Rosa Parks’s Tale

“Grandma, tell me the story again.”

“Well, child, settle down and get cozy. The story is long and happened many years ago. It is a story about segregation, keeping people apart because of the color of their skin.”

“Please tell me again.”

“The shift at work had ended late, my feet were tired, and my mind was spent. Taking the bus home was the only way, because my husband and I did not have a car.”

“Go on, Grandmother. What happened next?”

“At the bus stop, I waited for the right bus. When it arrived, I climbed on board and paid the driver the 25-cent fare to ride the bus. ‘Colored folk in the back,’ he said in a monotone voice.”

“The back of the bus was crowded and full, but there were seats in the front of the bus that were still empty. Confidently, I walked to one of them and sat down.”

“Go on, Grandmother.”

“The bus screeched to a halt, and a policeman was called. He pulled me off the bus. Boy, was he mad! He was saying all kinds of stuff . . . words I don’t even want to repeat.” “Please finish, Grandmother.”

“Well, they took me to jail, charged me a $10.00 fine, and $4.00 for court. It wasn’t too much fun sitting in that jail cell, but I had made my point. I was a citizen, just like the white folks. We all should be sittin’ together.”

“Grandmother?”

“Yes?”

“Did it do any good?”

“Yes, child. Today we walk down the same side of the street, go to the same restaurants, attend the same schools, and drink out of the same fountains. It was worth it.”