Free Music of the Swamp by Lewis Nordan

found it again, the coin was a wafer the size and color of a perfectly cooked pancake. Abraham Lincoln was as unfamiliar as a midget in the sideshow.
    And now, just hours before this bad meal, Portable Justice had arrived in Arrow Catcher in a van that looked like the Bookmobile.
    The electric chair was part of an exhibit sponsored by the State of Mississippi and hauled around to eighty-two county seats. It was happening, the State was telling us. The execution was real. A man would die in this incredible chair before Labor Day, and Mississippians were invited to lay eyes upon the instrument of his destruction.
    I stood in the air-conditioned van with other children and adults and looked at the chair. The van was brightly lighted. There were framed pictures on the walls—the president, the governor. Even a framed news clipping of the first man ever put to death by electrocution, a
New York Times
article dated April 28, 1898. The man’s name was there, and even his picture, with a starched collar and a silly smile.
    The chair itself was as big as a roadside fruit stand. It was hardly a chair at all, a horrible throne. It was made of oak timbers, it had a seat wide enough for three condemned men, arms wide enough to rest a dinner plate on. There were twoheavy-duty wires. One went to a steel beanie for the head, the other went to a steel cuff for the right calf. There were heavy leather straps that seemed darkened with sweat. Two straps came down from the top of the chair to hold the condemned man by the shoulders. There were straps for the wrists and the ankles and even a strap for the forehead. There was a heavy leather strap a foot wide that went across the condemned man’s waist. One of several high school boys looking at the exhibit said, “Buckle up for safety,” and the others snickered.
    The exhibit guide was a thin man with a narrow nose and thin lips. He gave the high school boys an evil look. He seemed to say, “You go on acting like that and it could be you sitting in that chair some day.” I agreed with the look. I was silent and respectful.
    The guide said, “The condemned man may choose anything he wishes for his last meal.” I thought, If he chose my mother’s rice, he wouldn’t need to waste the electricity. I thought I would choose steak and french fries. Or maybe I would just ask for suggestions.
    The guide said, “The top of the head is shaved.” He said, “The right calf is also shaved.” The high school boys said, “Woo-woo,” and pretended that sounded sexy. The weasely guide gave them another look and they shut up. The guide said, “A salt solution is applied to the shaved areas to insure perfect contact.”
    Suddenly I said, “Can I sit in it?”
    The guide looked at me. He said, “Suit yourself,” and stood aside to allow me to sit down.
    I looked back at the high school boys, who suddenly seemed quiet and afraid. I sat in the chair. Then I heard one of them say, “You’re sitting where many a grinning nigger died.”
    It was this same night that I was sitting at my parents’ table.
    My mother said, “More rice and gravy?” Speaking to my father.
    My father said, “Well, you bet.” My father loved my mother’s incredible cooking.
    I said, “I don’t want none, Mama.”
    My grandfather said, “Sugar don’t know what’s good. You go blind, you’ll appreciate good food.” He said, “I’m hungry, I’m so hungry I can’t see straight.”
    My mother said, “Hand me your plate, Pap. Some rice and gravy might help.”
    I said, “I’m taking the freight train to the execution.”
    My grandfather said, “Won’t nothing help. Won’t nothing cure blindness of the eyes.”
    I said, “Mock it down. I’m taking the freight train to see a man get the shock of his life.”
    My father said,