Maybe You Never Cry Again by Bernie Mac Read Free Book Online Page A

brother. But it was time to move on.
    Â 
    My mama was always tired in those days, but she never cranked or whined. We’d have dinner and sit in front of the TV after. Sometimes she’d nod off, and we’d cover her up and let her lie there, and we’d watch shows well into the night. I couldn’t get enough TV. I watched everything. Lost in Space. Gunsmoke.Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. The Fugitive. Marcus Welby. Perry Mason. The Twilight Zone.
    I saw television as a form of higher education. I learned all about structure from those shows. Structure and pacing and plot. I learned the difference between suspense and surprise. I learned how to make stories unfold. I tried to beat Perry Mason at his own game, and a lot of times I did pretty well.
    But comedy and comedians had a special place in my heart. I used to study Bill Cosby, check out his moves, practice them in front of the mirror. Man was smooth. Even white people liked him. He had what they called “crossover appeal.” Of course, back then, I had no idea what that meant. My world was black. Hell, I didn’t even know any white people.
    Flip Wilson had a show, too, starting back in 1970. And Redd Foxx got his show in ’72, after thirty years of standup. Redd had a real edge to him. I liked him more than either Cosby or Flip. Redd was raw. Redd told it like it was, took chances.
    Many years later, I actually met Redd Foxx, and he gave me a piece of advice that helped put my career on the right track. But I’m getting ahead of myself; let’s get back to my mother.
    Â 
    Like I said, she was sick. Within a year of moving into the new house, she got too sick to work. One day I happened to be coming down the street just as she was getting home with my aunt Evelyn, and I saw from afar the way Aunt Evelyn had to help her out of the car. She was so weak she couldn’t lift her own legs. I ran over to see if I could help, but she was on her feet by now, leaning on Aunt Evelyn for support, and she acted like it was nothing and disappeared into the house. Aunt Evelyn gave me a sorrowful look, then followed after her, and that’s when it finally hit me. I walked off, thinking terrible thoughts, and by the time I reached the park I was in tears.
    Billy Staples saw me and hurried over. “Bernie,” he said, “what the hell’s wrong with you, man?”
    â€œI think my mother’s dying,” I said.
    In a matter of weeks, my mother had turned into a skeleton. I don’t think she weighed more than ninety pounds. But still she didn’t crank or moan. Weak as she was, she tried to make herself useful. She’d putter around the kitchen, getting dinner together. Or tidy up. Or catch up on the bills.
    When the weather was good, she’d sit in the backyard and try to get a little sun.
    One day, as she was crossing toward the deck chair, the bathrobe slipped from her shoulders. She had a huge bandage on her back, and the robe caught an edge and pulled it down. I just about died on the spot. Her skin was like paper. It was so thin I could see clear through it, to her beating heart.
    She readjusted the tape with one thin arm and lifted the robe back onto her bony shoulders. That’s when she saw me standing there, watching her. She looked at me with terrible sorrow. “Go back in the house, son,” she said. “Fetch me some water.”
    I did as I was told. I went and got her a glass of water and took it outside and set it next to her. She had a terrible smell about her in those days. The cancer was eating her up. To this day, I can see her lyin’ there, the sun on her thin little shoulders, and I can smell that haunting smell.
    â€œDon’t stand there lookin’ at me like that, boy,” she said. She was weak, but she said it hard and hurt my feelings.
    I went inside. My grandpa was just getting off the phone. “That was your father,” he said.
    â€œMy father? What does he