The Owl Who's Foot Wouldn't Fit the Limb

By Ernestine King

The Owl Whose Foot Wouldn’t Fit the Limb tells of a defenseless little girl who, at age two years, was left alone in the famous Howard Theatre in the Nation’s Capital. It’s a story filled with hate, love, hope, forgiveness, and second chances. It follows her journey of enduring hardships, feelings of abandonment, sins of the soul, and encounters of the unknown—all to prove there is a Light called Redemption.

Ernestine King, a.k.a. Ernie K. and the Owl, is a devoted Mom, Nana, Grandmother, Great-grandmother, and die-hard friend to many. She resides in Springdale, Maryland, with her daughter Roni and son-in-law Joel and is the matriarch of a close-knit family of six. Ernie is an avid reader, published poet, and the author of a debut novel Tears Fall Hard Like Diamonds. To learn more about Ernie K.’s future writing projects, email her at [e-mail].

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781636307350

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Foreword

Acknowledgments

The Owl

Ode to the Wise Owl

Prelude

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Beautiful Things

Epilogue

Taking My Turn

Special Achievements of the Owl and Unforgettable Memories of the Past

About the Author

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The Owl Whose Foot Wouldn't Fit the Limb

Ernestine King

ISBN 978-1-63630-733-6 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63630-734-3 (Hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-63630-735-0 (Digital)

Copyright © 2021 Ernestine King

All rights reserved

First Edition

(Note: No copyright infringement is intended

anywhere in this book.)

There will be some profanity that is included in this memoir.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books, Inc.

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

This book is dedicated in memory of my great-grandmother, Betty Walker; Charlie Walker, my beloved grandfather; great-aunt Ida Flack (aka Mama Coot); great-aunt Gabby Butler; to my knight, Cousin Ronnie Galloway (a.k.a. Horse); and to my niece, Crystal LaShawn Daniels, who was another little wise owl whom God gave wisdom and chose at an early age and made one of His special angels. My earthly father, Earnest (Reverend Daniels), I thank you for acknowledging me and giving me your name. To my other mother, Celeste DuBois (a.k.a. Mama 'Les), who stood up for me whenever I needed a confidant and friend. You all believed in me when I was a little wise owl and even after I evolved into an adult owl. I will remember and cherish all your love, teachings, guidance, patience, and understanding. You are all a part of me that will never change. I count you among the heavenly stars.

Cousin Mattie, you became like the motto of the Virginia Slims cigarette, you came a long way.

My biological mother, Gladys, forgiveness is a part of God's master plan. I love and miss you, Mom!

My one and only daughter, Veronica (Roni) Price; son-in-law, Joel; and my two beloved grandchildren, Brandon (Boo Bear) and Noelle (Tink), Nana loves you; you are all very special in my life, and through you my legacy will live on.

Jace, my adorable little great-grandson, Nana does not need to tell you how much I love you (this wide), our little arm-stretching game.

Myounna (Bookie), you came to me as an infant not yet walking or talking. You have grown up into a beautiful young lady. Mom loves you.

I did not forget you, Cousin Elaine; you can tell your story and let it coincide with mine.

To my nieces, Yolanda and Ebony Burgess, and my nephew, Lewis Anthony Jr., I dedicate the thought, You can be whatever you want to be; just don't give up the fight.

My sister, Reverend Marcia Burgess, our pop would be so proud of your following in his footsteps.

Foreword

Dear Reader, thinking back on the first time that I ever heard the full details of my beloved mom's riveting life story, I recall moments of shock, anger, laughter, sorrow, and joy. Why joy, you ask? Because the existence of the book you now hold in your hand tells me that my mom overcame her demons and the past that haunted her for most of her life. She is now able to share her story with the world, after many years of trying to find a place where she belonged.

My prayer is for this book to touch someone who may be going through some of what my mom experienced and be encouraged to find their own family tree limb that was created just for them by God. You are loved, you matter, and you are someone of worth.

Read and be blessed,

Veronica Roni L. Price

Daughter of Ernie K.

Acknowledgments

First of all, I wish to thank Almighty God, my creator and mentor. You have all of my heart. Thanks for creating me and blessing me with this gift of writing to share with my brothers and sisters.

If you have purchased this book, many thanks for your support.

My friends, you know who you are; you've been there for me through the good times and bad. Thanks, from the bottom of my heart.

I know my dear departed cousin Ronnie would want his daughter, Rhonica, and wife, Carole, to be remembered; so I thank you for acknowledging me as a sister and aunt respectively and for allowing me to tell his story along with the Owl's. If he could be here today, he would be so proud of you both.

My gratitude goes to the publishers, my agent, and the friends who made it possible and gave me the incentive to tell you, the reader, my story. If I have left your name out, please don't be dismayed; just blame it on my mind and not my heart. I still love you too.

The Owl

There once was an

Old owl

Who lived in an oak.

The more he heard

The less he spoke;

The less he spoke,

The more he heard.

Oh, if men were all

Like that wise bird!

(Unknown)

Ode to the Wise Owl

With feet firmly planted

On tangible wings of prayer

I call out the night message

That I've dreamed during the day

All goes quiet

As Nature makes her call

In different sounds for all to hear

Who; who; who; who

Breezes gently blowing, branches swaying

Moonbeams drifting, showing the way

My knowing eyes seeing all

And

Remembering the past,

Knowing the present

And

Waiting for the future

The sun will rise again

Silently escaping

From the night

Allowing me to once again

Sleep and wait for the night dreams

To begin a new awakening…

(Ernie K., the Owl)

(Note: This poem received an Outstanding Achievement Crystal Pyramid for Poetry from the International Society of Poets.)

Prelude

Some people can't remember when they were just two years old, but I can. It was like a nightmare. It must have been springtime, sometime after my second birthday in April 1949, because I can remember rain and a slight chill in the air. My mother had an umbrella to keep the rain off us, and I was a little chilly. I don't remember what I had on at that time, but I do remember the awful chill. Was it a premonition of bad things to come?

My mother had taken me to a tall building; she said it was a theater. Later in my life, I came to realize it was the largest colored theater in the world—the famous Howard Theatre, a place where Black performers could get a foothold in their professional skills. It was located between Seventh and T Street, Northwest, in the nation's capital, Washington, DC. It is now a historical landmark.

I can't remember what my mother looked like, only that she was kind of nervous and impatient with me. She sat me in a seat next to the aisle very close to the stage. I was given a bag of popcorn and a large white handkerchief in case I spilled some. You sit here and be very quiet, she said to me, and I'll be right back. Don't you cry now, because you might disturb the other people. There is nothing to be scared of. Mommy will be back in a little while. I don't recall a hug, pat, or kiss, only her saying, If I am gone longer than I plan to, I will send a nice lady to get you for me. You go with her, and Mommy will see you later, okay? I must had said okay because she left me there all alone in that old dark place with strange people moving around and whispering to each other.

I couldn't tell you whose stage performance it was because I was hungry with my stomach growling for lack of real food. The place was spooky with the lights down low. I just ate my popcorn and waited like she told me to. I sure was scared and missed my mommy.

A nice old gray-haired lady came and sat in the empty seat next to me.

She knew my name. Ernestine, she said, your mommy sent me to get you because she knew you were probably afraid being here all alone by yourself. She said you were a big girl and a good girl too.

Where is my mommy? I must have asked because she said Mommy had to go away for a little while. You are to come with me, your aunt Eliza. I will keep you until your mother comes back. She took me by the hand and said, Come along now. I won't hurt you. Because she knew my mommy's name was Gladys, I, in my innocence, trusted her and went off to what later became the beginning of my hell.

Chapter 1

Spring turned into summer because I was allowed to go out in the barren backyard of the old three-storied red brick house to play by myself each day. My mommy hadn't returned for me. I wasn't too scared in the daytime, only at night when Eliza took me out to the shed to take care of my needs. There were big old rats out there. Sometimes they even clawed their way into the basement flat where she and I shared our home.

I remember crying a lot for my mommy, but I was always told to shut up along with a brutal slap or knockdown onto the floor. Your mommy will be back. Be grateful I took you in for the slut (at the time I didn't know what a slut was). You're going to be here with me until she pays me my money. I didn't know anything about no money owed Eliza. I didn't even know what money was. But I learned quickly to keep quiet and stay in the shadows.

Oh yeah! Eliza drank a lot of water, which I later discovered was bootlegged gin. I always thought it was water because it was clear in the glass. The numerous times she drank her water, I knew it was safer not to ask about my mommy or to cry when I was scared at night. One learns quickly to not want a slap in the face and that slaps caused lots of pain. It was best to retreat within myself and keep quiet.

You know what was so strange? I was forbidden to climb the stairs to the second or third floors of the humongous old house. I knew people were up there because I heard voices and music mostly at night when Eliza thought I was asleep. Up the stairs was off-limits to me, but she would climb them quite often. I was told something bad would get me if I climbed the stairs. She said that the bogeyman was up there and that he would eat a little nappy-head girl like me and I would never see my mommy again.

Well, wouldn't you know it? The day would come, and I would climb those old stair steps. Eliza was going away for a while, and I was told to stay put until she returned. She left me alone in that creepy basement apartment many times. I was used to her going away, but she always came back, not like my mommy who hadn't been heard from since she left me in that dark theater. I remember Eliza holding my little arms and saying, Don't go up the stairs, stay in the basement flat. My child's mind could only think that it would be just like Mommy left me that night so long ago. But as I said, Eliza always returned.

Time meant nothing to me because I didn't know a day from a month or a year. I didn't know how long I had been with Eliza. It was now real cold outdoors now because she used to burn the old potbellied coal stove to keep us warm at night. Maybe it was wintertime. I did not know. Anyway, wouldn't you know it? I had to use the shed in the dark backyard. I was scared to go out there without her; besides, there were those big old hairy, scary rats out there and other creepy things. It was getting darker out there, and nature was calling to be released. I knew if I soiled my undies, Eliza would beat me silly. I truly was afraid.

Then I remembered I had heard voices upstairs. Soft music was playing, and I could hear the soft murmur and laughter. There were people up there. They seemed happy, not scared and frightened like I was. So wouldn't you know it? I sneaked up the forbidden steps one by one and kept peeping behind myself for her, but she hadn't returned yet. Nature was hurting my stomach really bad, so I kept climbing up and up until I reached the top step.

The door was closed, and I turned the knob and entered the dimly lit hallway. There was some kind of fur on the floor (it was a carpeted floor runner), all soft under my bare feet. There was laughter from the men and ladies. I saw them hugging each other and drinking gin or dark tea from their glasses.

They appeared to be having so much fun. Some of them were going into rooms and closing the door. I wasn't afraid of them at all. I wanted to laugh too, but I was on a mission to relieve my hurting stomach.

Hello, said a smiling lady in a long flowing white robe. Don't be afraid. Aren't you the little girl that Eliza keeps downstairs? What is your name, honey, and why are you up here all by yourself? You ought to be in bed, she asked again where Eliza was.

She's gone, I must have answered while looking at her through a lonely child's eyes. I'm scared the rats will get me in the backyard. My tummy hurts. Can you call my mommy to come get me?

She must have known my mommy because she looked at me sadly. She never asked what my mommy's name was either. She said that she would take me to the bathroom and for me not to tell Eliza. She sat me on the toilet, told me to hurry up and get back downstairs before Eliza found out I had been up there where I should not have been.

If she told me her name, I don't recall; however, she and a few other ladies who had gathered around said I was a cute little thing and wasn't it shameful. I didn't know what they meant by that, but I must had been good because they each hugged and kissed me before I was told to hurry back down the steps, and they reminded me not to tell Eliza I had seen them.

Chapter 2

I can clearly remember crawling backward down the steps one by one. My stomach didn't hurt anymore. I didn't hear Eliza yet. Fate has always been against me even at such a young age because before I reached the bottom step, she opened the front door to the flat and caught me dead in my tracks. I can't recall the names she called me, but I do remember the open-handed slaps across my little face and her shaking my trembling shoulders. I felt like my head would leave my frail body.

Didn't I tell you not to go up those steps? she yelled while still shaking the day lights out of me. I was crying and really, really scared. She looked awful.

The bogeyman wasn't up the stairs; he was here slapping and shaking me silly. I remember trying to tell her of my stomachache and of being afraid to go out into the dark backyard alone. My biggest mistake was when I told her the nice lady took me to the toilet. Why did I have to tell the truth? She shook me even harder. She continued raging at me and calling me names. Then I was no longer held in her tight grip. I was on my back on the cold floor by the entrance door to the front room of the flat. The back of my head was in terrible pain and bleeding badly. I had fallen and hit the back of my head on a big red brick she used to keep the door propped open. My screams could be heard over the whole house and apparently throughout the neighborhood as well.

She yanked me up by my arm. There was a lot of commotion on the stairs. Some of the men and ladies had run part of the way down the stairs to see what was making that god-awful noise. It was me. The pain was terrible, unbearable, and there was blood running all over me from the wound in the back of my head. Eliza shooed them back up the steps with the assurance I had only taken