Chapter 1 Morning Pickup
On a crisp fall day in September of 1959, a black four-door sedan drove up a gravel-covered red clay road in North Carolina, lined with tall pine trees on each side, up Maloney Hill to a small two-bedroom brick house to pick up a tiny package. The driver of this vehicle, although accustomed as she was to pickups, never felt comfortable about the task she had before her. This white placement worker from the Burke County Department of Social Services collected kids for placement outside of the county. This was the second and last pickup of the day before heading to the colored orphanage located in the rural town of Oxford, North Carolina. The orphanage housed kids who were in the Department of Social Services’ custody. The trip took about five hours.
Today was unlike any before. Usually her pickups were aware of what would happen upon her arrival. On this day the child she came to pick up was me, a seven-year- old boy who had no idea why she was there. She got out of the car and spoke briefly with my mother—a young, grieving white woman who tried desperately to withhold tears and signs of anxiety. My mother knelt down, looked me in the eyes and asked me to get in the car and leave with the stranger. I defied my mother’s request and ran through the nearby cornfield and pine trees as fast as my little legs would permit. The placement worker then asked for help from my angry, hurt uncle and other concerned relatives standing by, but none offered to help. My mother interceded again after a private talk with the placement worker. She embraced me, and then held my hand as we walked toward the car in silence. The social worker opened the rear door as I reluctantly climbed into the car.
Physically exhausted from running, and afraid of what awaited me outside of my comfort zone I became very sad as I left the woman I trusted more than anyone in the whole world. As we left Grandma Anner Maloney’s house, I wondered what awaited me beyond Maloney Hill, as I was now being forced to leave everything that was familiar to me. A whole new world awaited me.
Unable to release any more tears, I shifted my focus to the other kids in the car. The emotion of being alone turned to fear and shock as I saw for the first time much darker-complexioned kids. There in the backseat sat two brothers—Tim and Dan. They also appeared just as shocked and surprised to see me. Moments passed as we bonded in the stillness of the moment.
The car finally made its way to the main road, the Old James River Road. It has since been renamed “Powerhouse Road” and remains the main road in and out of Glen Alpine. Life on Maloney Hill changed over the years as new homes were constructed, new families moved in and the road was renamed “Maloney Avenue.” I had arrived at a fork in the road and a whole new world awaited me. Disassociated experiences that had been repressed and walled up could now be integrated with current awareness as it promoted the release and control of negative emotions, leading toward the road of empowerment.
On a crisp fall day in September of 1959, a black four-door sedan drove up a gravel-covered red clay road in North Carolina, lined with tall pine trees on each side, up Maloney Hill to a small two-bedroom brick house to pick up a tiny package. The driver of this vehicle, although accustomed as she was to pickups, never felt comfortable about the task she had before her. This white placement worker from the Burke County Department of Social Services collected kids for placement outside of the county. This was the second and last pickup of the day before heading to the colored orphanage located in the rural town of Oxford, North Carolina. The orphanage housed kids who were in the Department of Social Services’ custody. The trip took about five hours.
Today was unlike any before. Usually her pickups were aware of what would happen upon her arrival. On this day the child she came to pick up was me, a seven-year- old boy who had no idea why she was there. She got out of the car and spoke briefly with my mother—a young, grieving white woman who tried desperately to withhold tears and signs of anxiety. My mother knelt down, looked me in the eyes and asked me to get in the car and leave with the stranger. I defied my mother’s request and ran through the nearby cornfield and pine trees as fast as my little legs would permit. The placement worker then asked for help from my angry, hurt uncle and other concerned relatives standing by, but none offered to help. My mother interceded again after a private talk with the placement worker. She embraced me, and then held my hand as we walked toward the car in silence. The social worker opened the rear door as I reluctantly climbed into the car.
Physically exhausted from running, and afraid of what awaited me outside of my comfort zone I became very sad as I left the woman I trusted more than anyone in the whole world. As we left Grandma Anner Maloney’s house, I wondered what awaited me beyond Maloney Hill, as I was now being forced to leave everything that was familiar to me. A whole new world awaited me.
Unable to release any more tears, I shifted my focus to the other kids in the car. The emotion of being alone turned to fear and shock as I saw for the first time much darker-complexioned kids. There in the backseat sat two brothers—Tim and Dan. They also appeared just as shocked and surprised to see me. Moments passed as we bonded in the stillness of the moment.
The car finally made its way to the main road, the Old James River Road. It has since been renamed “Powerhouse Road” and remains the main road in and out of Glen Alpine. Life on Maloney Hill changed over the years as new homes were constructed, new families moved in and the road was renamed “Maloney Avenue.” I had arrived at a fork in the road and a whole new world awaited me. Disassociated experiences that had been repressed and walled up could now be integrated with current awareness as it promoted the release and control of negative emotions, leading toward the road of empowerment.
