Our marriage and family relationship continued to evolve as the children grew older. While we both loved all the children, and they loved us, the bonds grew stronger between certain pairs. For example, Brittany and Shavonda had grown very close. And Ethan, while he was also close to Shavonda, felt I could do no wrong. Miracle also gravitated towards me more than her mother, spending as much time as she could toddling around me. I suspect that she was a little mad at Shavonda, who had been weaning her. Miracle was now drinking a lot of juice in bottles, and milk as well. We'd gotten her to drink cow's milk about a month back, and Shavonda had cut back on mother's milk even in bottles. TO be honest, at this point, I was probably drinking more of Shavonda's milk than the baby, and weaning me was going to be far more difficult.
One manifestation of our evolving family was our inclusion of the kids when we did the festivals this year. During the Ren fest, we had taken turns keeping the older children busy during the day. Even Tamika helped. She loved the kids as much as we did, and now that she was married was trying for one of her own.
But the real treat for them came at the Bedford Fall Festival. There were rides set up, and booths that sold cotton candy and funnel cakes. For them, it was like a trip to the amusement park. We had them the second weekend of the festival, and took their favorite toys with us. Between rides, they would play in the booth, much to the delight of the customers. Our sales those two days were significantly higher than the previous week when they weren't there. We chalked it up to the area.
Bedford was pure, conservative, small town America, a mountain town where family values mattered. And our family, while interracial, was obviously a happy one.
For the kids, especially Ethan, the highlight of the trip were the races at night. Though the nights were cold, the kids didn't complain as the cars raced around the track at the fairgrounds. Afterwards, Ethan decided he wanted to be a race car driver when he grew up.
With the festivals finally out of the way, our nomadic life returned to normal. We had a little breathing room now, with no more shows until the train show the weekend of Shavonda's birthday in November. The only thing we had planned during this period was Shavonda's long promised guest spot during church services.
The week after the festival, on Wednesday, Reverend Frazier showed up with the choir director and the church organist and drummer, to discuss Shavonda's performance. Since Kenny and Edie were also there, along with the rest of the crew for train night, we decided to put on a performance for everybody, so they could see exactly what we did. Shavonda had insisted that if she was going to sing for the church, she wanted me playing bass too.
Everybody gathered in the game room, and the four of us played a short set for them. Edie had, by now, acquired a tambourine and was providing us with what little percussion we used. She also sang many of our songs, but tonight since they were here about Shavonda, Edie sang backup. The only song we did that Shavonda didn't sing lead on was 'Love will tear us apart again.' As usual I sang that one. We'd included it because it showcased my bass more than most other songs. We also included 'Save Me' which had become Shavonda's signature song, and a couple others that showcased her formidable skills. Saving the best for last, we played the song we'd learned in anticipation of her performing it for the church, Macy Gray's 'I Can't Wait to Meet You.'
The songs went over well, especially the Macy Gray one, and with a better understanding of what we did we held a planning meeting with the church members as Kenny dispatched the trains in the other room. The Reverend had brought a copy of the planned service to the meeting, which detailed the hymns planned for the service. But he said he'd have to change that and include the Macy Gray song. The choir director agreed, and we set up a rehearsal with the full choir for Friday evening, with Saturday optional if we needed more preparation.
At the rehearsal, the drummer approached us. He'd been impressed by what we did, especially how we'd played the songs without a drummer. He liked the way I used the bass to play the drum parts as well as the bassline. We invited him to play with us some time, because we were all curious what we'd sound like with a drummer.
We managed to work 'I Can't Wait to Meet You' into the service, as it was a song about Jesus. With this as with all the songs Shavonda was to sing, the choir provided backing vocals, while I added the bass that was missing from the usual church services. While we did pretty well on Friday night, we wound up getting together Saturday afternoon to polish our performance. All in all, I was amazed how well we fit in with the choir and musicians. The two of us filled in some bare spots in the choir's sound. The best part was that since the church routinely recorded the services, and made them available to those who couldn't attend, we'd finally be recorded.
Saturday evening, we interviewed and hired two more people for the store, both female. Shavonda was totally serious about opening the third store, and had placed an ad looking for people who had a strong interest in African studies. The new store would be dedicated to items that celebrated her rich heritage, and we wanted people who understood the significance of the items in the store, who could explain their significance to others, and who could provide input on other items of interest. They were to start next week, Carmella training in Shadyside under Velma, and Dominique training in South Side under Tamika.
Shavonda had signed a lease on a store front in Penn Hills, not far from where we lived. She intended to pull stock from the other stores to starts with, and had also ordered quite a few books that were appropriate. We'd also decided on a selection of CDs. Music was a fixture in all the stores, with each one having a selection recommended by the employees. Since we had some pretty eclectic tastes among us, the cd racks contained music difficult to find elsewhere. For the new store, we'd concentrate on music by black artists, everything from Leadbelly and Muddy Waters to Jill Scott and Kanye West, by way of Aretha Franklin, Funkadelic and Tracy Chapman. In other words, the music celebrated the contributions of the musicians regardless of style.
We were shooting for a mid-November opening, just in time for the Christmas shopping season. Shavonda's hope was that sales would be enough to get us through the winter without too much of a loss. Unlike the other two stores, this one would not be selling items we and the employees handmade. Thus, our startup costs were much higher, though the cost of the lease was much lower than either of the other storefronts.
The plan was for Shavonda spend her time at the new store working with the new hires, and Nykole would be a floating manager who would rotate through the stores covering the other managers off days. The stores had always been staffed with two people whenever possible. Shavonda just didn't feel right about having others staffing the stores alone. None of the stores had ever been held up, but Shavonda felt that if they were having a second person there would add a margin of safety.
Shavonda's performance in church went well. In fact, she was a hit. I played along in the background, watching James, Althea, Barbara and the kids in the front row. Even though the kids were at their grandmother's house for the weekend, and Barbara was Catholic, Brittany had talked her into coming to see us in our little AME church.
After the service, we were surrounded by a crowd of people commenting on Shavonda's performance. Quite a few also commented on my bass [laying as well. I had tried to give the hymns a funky feel that complimented them.
But what really stood out to me was Barbara herself, and her comfort with the congregation. I'd mentioned it before but now I was certain: this woman was comfortable with black folks. Most white people, when put in a situation where they are in the minority, tend to become anxious. Their body language betrays their unease. Not Barbara. She was enjoying herself, totally at ease as though she'd know these people all her life.
On Tuesday, I heard from the Kenjerski family. I had a long talk with Mrs. Kenjerski about the situation with Shavonda, and she agreed to talk to her. We agreed for her to visit on Friday evening after Shavonda got home from work.
The next morning, I arrived at work to find my truck with a crushed cab sitting off to the side, and a rental tractor, complete with long distance cab, coupled to my trailer. I retrieved my cooler from the wreckage of my truck and got on the road. That evening, Nick told the night shift had tried to lift 20-foot rebar over my trailer. Why I don't know. It made no sense to me. The ends of the bundle caught the roof of the trailer, putting a long tear in it, and slipped off the forklift. One ton of rebar fell on the roof of my truck. It was going to be a long time until it got fixed, if ever. The company hadn't yet determined what they wanted to do, other than suspend the forklift driver for a few days.
That night, Shavonda was mentioning how she needed some "mountain therapy" so I told her to take the next day off. Since the rental had no drive cam, nobody would know if she rode along with me.
