Sherman reaches out…

I got another letter in the mail today from George. I really feel sorry for the guy, but don’t know what to do. He once again pleaded for me to send him some money for the commissary. He also asked me to go see about Mrs. Jones, his mother. That I can do.

I drove over to Mrs. Jones’ house this evening leaving Carolyn in the bed.

“Hey baby,” She said as she hugged me as I stood at the door. “I’ve been wondering where you have been.”

I sat and read Sherman’s latest letters to her as she has trouble seeing to read. She is in her eighties. She then got in the kitchen and started to fix her some supper. I stood beside her and watched her as she cooked. She is a wonderful old southern style cook. She fried some cubed steak, made a pan of biscuits, and boiled a pot of rice.

“I am trying to get up some family members to help with the money to get a lawyer,” She told me as I stood there.

“Don’t waste your time or that money,” I replied. “George is not getting out until his parole. Johnny Cochran couldn’t get him off. He has already had his court date.”

We then sat at her kitchen table as I ate a few wonderful biscuits with butter and strawberry preserves. I know the neighbors must think it is so odd for a young white guy to come over to this elderly black woman’s house. It is in a vast majority black neighborhood.

“Mrs. Jones, I will see you next week,” I told her as I got up to leave after eating.

“Honey, you start coming by every week and I will fix us supper,” She replied.

“That sounds wonderful,” I said. “I will see you next Monday.”

I hugged Mrs. Jones goodbye and drove on home. It was good seeing her. It is the least I can do for Sherman seeing I can’t send him any money at the moment. I arrived home to find Carolyn still sick as a dog. I am starting to wonder if I need to take her to the hospital. I am worried she is getting dehydrated.