Name and age?

“Franklin Thompson,” she said.  “Twenty-one.”

These answers got Emma Edmonds into the Civil War on April 25, 1861.  She wanted to be a Union soldier.  Would they learn her secret, that she was a girl?  She prayed not.

Emma, as Franklin Thompson, worked and lived in army tent hospitals.  She loved her job as a soldier.  Then she wanted to become a spy soldier to gather information from the Confederates (the other side).  When she had to take tests, she wondered if her secret would be safe.  Would her officers find out she was a girl?  Luckily for her, they only checked for bumps and curves on her head.  They said she could be a spy.

How would she dress as a spy?  Then she remembered that the Confederate armies had slaves.  Black skin would be her disguise.  She got old men’s clothes, a black wig, and covered her face, arms, and hands with silver nitrate.  Emma, as Cuss the black slave, was good at finding important information from the Confederates.  She took notes and hid them in the soles of her shoes.

Her last spy assignment was to find Mr. Hall, a spy for the Confederates.  Emma, this time disguised as Charles Mayberry, dressed in a suit and attended dinners and dances.  Emma hoped she could get near Mr. Hall.  She had good luck.  Mr. Hall was to accompany her.  Mr. Hall was captured and Mr. Mayberry (Emma) was released. 

Next she worked in an army hospital again.  But Emma got sick with malaria and needed to be a patient.  To keep her secret, she ran away to a civilian hospital in Illinois.  She recovered and wanted to go back to her soldier job.  But she read in a newspaper that Private Franklin Thompson had run away from the Union Army and was a deserter.  She was very upset.  If she protested, there would be an investigation.  Her secret would come out.  So she went to Washington, D.C. and worked in a regular hospital as Emma Edmonds. 

As the soldier Franklin Thompson, Emma made eleven spy trips into enemy lines.  She kept her secret the whole time.  But she didn’t like that Franklin Thompson was known as a deserter.  She asked the War Department to review the case.  That’s when people found out that Franklin Thompson was a girl.  She kept her secret until she was ready to tell it.

A special act of Congress gave military rights to Emma Edmonds and granted her an honorable discharge.  When she died September 5, 1884, she was buried in a cemetery with other Civil War soldiers. 

Published in Hopscotch Magazine

Reflections and Memories
by

Gordon Parks
as told to

Ann Parr

How did you meet Malcolm X?

     I found Malcolm X on a Harlem street corner one night, pointing at white policemen in the back of the crowd.  “We Muslims defy you!” he shouted.  That’s one crazy man, I thought.  He’ll be lucky to live out the winter. 

     For three months, I followed Malcolm, visited mosques, attended rallies and secret ceremonies, and watched judo experts train elite guard units.  I wrote a feature about him for Life’s May, 1963 issue and another feature when he was killed, published March 5, 1965, called “The Violent End of Malcolm X.”  Life magazine was viewed as white, and therefore, I was in a peculiar place, walking a thin line.  Yet Malcolm didn’t get caught up in questions like that.  He never wavered from what he believed.  He said in his autobiography, “[Gordon Parks’s] success among the white man never has made him lose touch with black reality.”  I take that as a compliment from my friend Malcolm.

What was he like?

     He was his own man.  Different from anyone else I ever knew.  He said what he thought.  And he didn’t say anything he didn’t believe.  He was completely loyal to Elijah Muhammad.  He could sway crowds more than any other Black Muslim leader.  Perhaps he became too powerful, and that’s why they killed him.

     I remember when Malcolm called me “brother” for the first time.  We were returning to New York on an airplane.  “It’s the first time you’ve called me brother,” I told him.  “You earned it,” he answered with a smile.  “You’ve traveled the fire with me.”

     Then he said, “Quibila (his daughter) needs a godfather.”  I told him I would be honored.  He put his head on my shoulder and went to sleep. 

You were friends when Malcolm X left Elijah Muhammad’s group. 

     When he lost faith in Elijah Muhammad, we would have tea, and he would share his ideas.  Malcolm said he had learned that not all white people are racists.  He wanted blacks to unite and ask for what we deserved.  He was forming a new organization to remedy the extremes of Elijah Muhammad’s way.  I admired him.  We had good times together.  He was smart, alive, and jovial. 

When was the last time you saw Malcolm X?

     His car drove slowly down my driveway, February 19, 1965.  “I guess you know,” he said.  “Elijah Muhammad’s out to get me.” 

     I told him I knew there was a problem.  His house had been firebombed.  I asked if his family was all right.  Then I asked about police protection.  He told me only another Muslim could protect you from a Muslim.  “I know,” he said.  “I invented many of their tactics.”

     Two days later, he was dead – killed by his own people.  He always thought he’d be hunted down by racists, not fellow Black Muslims.  I lost a special friend.

Published in Footsteps Magazine

Kansas Sunflowers
by
Ann Parr

     If you live in Kansas, someone might say, “Oh, you’re a sunflower.”  In 1903, the Kansas legislature chose the sunflower as the state flower.  Since then, the state has learned how to grow acres and acres of sunflowers used for food.  That’s why Kansans are called sunflowers.

     During September and October, you will see hundreds, even thousands of bright yellow wild sunflowers popping up alongside Kansas roads.  They nod every which way as the wind blows through them.  Then you will know why it is known as the Sunflower State. 

     During earlier summer months, sunflowers bloom in long, straight rows across Kansas fields.  These are domestic sunflowers, grown for food, not like the wild sunflowers whose seeds are inedible.  They are heliotropic, which means their bright yellow faces follow the sun, turning east in the morning and west at night.  When the flowers ripen and become heavy, they face east until farmers drive their combines up and down the rows, harvesting the flowered heads.  The seeds, removed from the center of the flowers, are pressed to make oil or dried to make yummy treats. 

     Sunflowers did not start in Kansas.  Or maybe they did.  Using sophisticated radioactive measuring methods called carbon dating, scientists have concluded that Native Americans throughout the central states grew sunflower seeds more than 3000 years ago, long before they produced corn, squash, or beans.  They tended the plants with bone hoes and antler rakes.  When the flowers ripened and dried, they grounded the seeds into a meal for thickening soups or making seed balls, which they nibbled on during their travels.  They roasted the hulls to make dyes for basket weaving, clothing, and face paint.  They boiled the juices from the stems to treat cuts and bruises, even snakebites and poison ivy.  They dried the stalks to build their lodges or kiva prayer houses.  They smoked the leaves like tobacco or boiled them to make a coffee-like beverage.  They didn’t waste a single part of the plant.  To them, the sunflower symbolized strength and endurance.  They honored the sunflower for its beauty, purity, and wild spirit. 

     Modern day Kansas farmers, along with farmers in North and South Dakota, plant and harvest more domestic sunflowers than any other states.  The seeds are the ideal food for songbirds.  But most of the seeds are pressed for oil.  Its light color, mild flavor, low level of saturated fat – and good taste – appeal to health-conscious eaters.  The oil is also used to make soaps, paints, candles, cosmetics, and varnishes.  Sometimes it is added to diesel fuel.  Instead of being used for building materials, the leftover stalks are put into feed for horses, cattle, and sheep.  Or they may be compressed into fireplace logs. 

     Next time you bite into your favorite snack or baked goods, check the ingredients.  It might be more delicious because it has sunflower seeds in it.  Then you can thank your old friends, the Native Americans, and your new friends, Kansas farmers.

Published in Hopscotch Magazine