And to make it worse, everyone loved me for it. It was as though I was carrying out his advice in spite of myself. And whenever things went well for me I remembered my grandfather and felt guilty and uncomfortable. It became a constant puzzle which lay unanswered in the back of my mind.
Grandfather had been a quiet old man who never made any trouble, yet on his deathbed he had called himself a traitor and a spy, and he had spoken of his meekness as a dangerous activity. It had a tremendous effect upon me, however. I was warned emphatically to forget what he had said and, indeed, this is the first time it has been mentioned outside the family circle. It was as though he had not died at all, his words caused so much anxiety. But my folks were more alarmed over his last words than over his dying. " Learn it to the younguns ," he whispered fiercely then he died. The younger children were rushed from the room, the shades drawn and the flame of the lamp turned so low that it sputtered on the wick like the old man's breathing. I want you to overcome 'em with yeses, undermine 'em with grins, agree 'em to death and destruction, let 'em swoller you till they vomit or bust wide open." They thought the old man had gone out of his mind. I never told you, but our life is a war and I have been a traitor all my born days, a spy in the enemy's country ever since I give up my gun back in the Reconstruction. On his deathbed he called my father to him and said, "Son, after I'm gone I want you to keep up the good fight. He was an odd old guy, my grandfather, and I am told I take after him. They stayed in their place, worked hard, and brought up my father to do the same. About eighty-five years ago they were told that they were free, united with others of our country in everything pertaining to the common good, and, in everything social, separate like the fingers of the hand. I am only ashamed of myself for having at one time been ashamed. I am not ashamed of my grandparents for having been slaves. I was in the cards, other things having been equal (or unequal) eighty-five years ago. But first I had to discover that I am an invisible man! And yet I am no freak of nature, nor of history. It took me a long time and much painful boomeranging of my expectations to achieve a realization everyone else appears to have been born with: That I am nobody but myself. I was looking for myself and asking everyone except myself questions which I, and only I, could answer. I accepted their answers too, though they were often in contradiction and even self-contradictory. All my life I had been looking for something, and everywhere I turned someone tried to tell me what it was. It goes a long way back, some twenty years.
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