Hello there! I’m Amber Tamblyn, and I’m excited to share a wonderful story with you today. It’s called “White Socks Only,” written by Evelyn Coleman and beautifully illustrated by Tyrone Geter. Let’s dive into this amazing tale together!
One hot summer day, a little girl asked her grandma if she could walk into town by herself. She knew her grandma would tell her a story, her favorite one. Grandma smiled and began her tale.
“When I was a little girl like you,” Grandma said, “I sneaked into town all by myself. It was a scorching hot day, and I had two eggs hidden in my pockets. I wasn’t planning on eating them; I wanted to see if what people said was true.”
Grandma put on her best Sunday dress, shiny black shoes, and clean white socks. She felt very grown-up as she walked down the road, singing to herself. It was so hot that she wanted to see if she could fry an egg on the sidewalk!
As she walked, she saw the Chicken Man sitting on his porch. People said he could do amazing things, like heal the sick and even turn people into chickens if they weren’t doing right. Grandma was a bit scared, so she hurried past him, holding her eggs carefully.
When Grandma reached town, she saw many people she didn’t know. She hid from her mom’s friend, Miss Nancy, and accidentally broke one of her eggs. But she still had one left for her experiment!
She found a big building with a statue and cracked her egg on the hot cement. At first, nothing happened, but then she saw the egg start to cook! She was so excited that she danced around. It was true—you could fry an egg on the sidewalk!
Feeling hot and thirsty, Grandma spotted a water fountain. It had a sign that said “Whites Only.” She took off her shoes, leaving only her clean white socks on, and stepped up to drink. But a big man saw her and got very angry.
He yelled at her and tried to punish her, but Grandma was confused. She thought her white socks meant she could drink there. A crowd gathered, and she started to cry.
Then, an older woman from Grandma’s church stepped up, took off her shoes, and drank from the fountain too. More people joined in, taking off their shoes and drinking, even though the man kept yelling.
Suddenly, everyone got quiet as the Chicken Man appeared. He took off his shoes, revealing the cleanest white socks, and drank from the fountain. The man with the belt stopped, and the Chicken Man helped Grandma up, telling her she did all right.
The people hugged Grandma and took her home. Her mom laughed and said she was now old enough to go to town by herself because she had done something good. The “Whites Only” sign was never seen again, and the man who was mean to them disappeared.
And that’s the story of how Grandma learned that sometimes, doing the right thing can change everything. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did!
Egg Experiment at Home: Try the egg experiment at home with an adult’s help. On a hot day, find a sunny spot outside and crack an egg on a flat surface like a sidewalk or a driveway. Observe what happens to the egg. Does it start to cook like in the story? Discuss why the egg might cook on a hot surface. What does this tell you about temperature and heat?
Role-Playing Kindness: Gather some friends or family members and act out the scene where people took off their shoes to drink from the fountain. Discuss how it felt to stand up for someone else and show kindness. Why is it important to be kind and help others, even when it’s difficult?
Observation Walk: Take a walk around your neighborhood or a local park with an adult. Look for signs or rules posted in different places. Discuss why these signs are there and what they mean. Are there any signs that you think are unfair? Talk about how you can make sure everyone feels included and welcome in your community.
Here’s a sanitized version of the transcript:
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Hello, I’m Amber Tamblyn, and welcome to BookPALS Storyline Online, sponsored by the Screen Actors Guild Foundation. Today, I’m going to be reading “White Socks Only,” written by Evelyn Coleman and illustrated by Tyrone Geter.
“Grandma, can I walk into town by myself?” I asked one hot summer’s day. I knew what she was going to say. She was going to tell a story—my favorite story. I watched her turn toward her spit can. The sound of it hitting the bottom was like a chime. She rocked back and forth a couple of times, her eyes closed, and then she looked up at me.
“You know you aren’t big enough to walk into town alone, girl. I don’t know why you’re asking me that. You aren’t big enough until you can do some good there.”
I smiled and sat down on the step. She was about to begin the story. Grandma laughed. “You know, when I was a little girl, like you, I sneaked into town once. Yep, all by myself. I wasn’t planning on doing any good. I had just been waiting for a scorching hot day. I had two eggs hidden in my pockets—not to eat, but to see if what folks said was true.
I slipped on my finest Sunday dress, my shiny black shoes, and my clean white socks. I pulled my hair back with a bow. I thought I looked pretty grown-up. You should have seen me strutting, the dust flying behind me! I had to hold my arms steady so I wouldn’t break the eggs.
Now that I think about it, I must have looked quite funny. I sneaked up that road singing to myself. And child, was it hot! I was feeling pretty fine until I spotted the old Chicken Man sitting on his porch, smiling. I looked down at the dirt. My mama had told me how the Chicken Man still practiced traditions from Africa, things his grandmother taught him. Mama also said he could heal the sick by laying on hands and that one time he made a blind man see just by looking deep into his eyes. Folks said he turned people into chickens if he didn’t feel they were doing right. That’s why he was called the Chicken Man.
I was a bit scared he might think I wasn’t doing right, so I started walking faster, still holding my arms out steady to protect the eggs. When I got to town, I didn’t see many people I knew. I wandered around, looking at the white women in their fancy hats. That’s when I saw Mama’s friend Miss Nancy turning the corner. I knew I would be in trouble if she saw me, so I took off running toward the first big tree I saw and hid behind it. I stayed there for a minute until I saw Miss Nancy walk out of sight. Then I tiptoed out.
But in my rush, I burst one of my eggs, and it was dripping down my dress and legs. I figured I better do what I came to do and get back home. I was standing in front of a big old building with a statue of a soldier on a horse. I read what it said on the building: “Cole County Courthouse, Mississippi.” I carefully pulled my egg out of my pocket and cracked it against the horse’s leg. The egg’s insides dropped to the hot cement. I knelt down to watch it closely. For a minute, I thought it wasn’t going to do anything. Then I saw it—one little bit turning white. Next, the white spread wider, and the yellow began to bubble. I was frying an egg on the cement just like folks said! I jumped up and started dancing. It was time to go home now. I had done it. It was true—it could get so hot you could fry an egg on the sidewalk.
I started walking, wiping sweat from my face, with the eggy part of my dress sticking to me. My mouth was dry, and I was thirsty. That’s when I spotted the water fountain. It had a little stepstool for children to climb up to drink, but there was a sign that read, “Whites Only.” I knew what that meant. So I sat down in the grass and took off my shiny black shoes. Now I only had on my clean white socks. I stepped up on that stool with those white socks hugging my feet. I was drinking the water quickly when a big man with a bandana around his neck grabbed me off the stool and pushed me to the ground. He pointed to the sign and yelled at me, “Can’t you read, girl? I’m going to punish you.”
His big fingers fumbled with his belt. I began to cry as a crowd gathered around. Seeing all those people made me scared, and I cried louder. I couldn’t understand why he was so angry. I was wearing my white socks.
An older woman from my church stepped through the crowd. She wasn’t wearing anything white, but she took off her shoes and stepped up to the fountain to drink. I thought the man would yell at her, and he did. But then other people started coming over, removing their shoes and drinking from the fountain. They had on clean-looking socks of various colors. The man kept yelling, and his face turned red. Other people joined in, yelling at us too. By that time, the man had taken his belt out. He was hitting me and everyone else nearby. None of the people moved; they just covered their faces. I sat there sobbing, holding my arms over my head.
Suddenly, everyone got quiet, like they were going to pray in church. I peeked out through my arms. The crowd parted, and the Chicken Man was coming through. He tapped his way toward me. When he got close, he stopped and looked at me from head to toe. Then he bent over and took off his shoes, revealing the cleanest white socks you ever saw. He stepped up on the stool and drank from the fountain for a long time. I held my breath, and so did everyone else.
The Chicken Man lifted his head, turned around smiling, and stepped down off the stool. Without a word, he pointed at the man. The man stood still, his belt clasped tightly in his fist. The Chicken Man helped me up, wiped my face with a handkerchief, and said, “There, there now, child. It’s time for you to go home. You did all right.” He handed me a chicken feather from his hat and hobbled away.
All the people surrounded me, crying and hugging me. Then they took me home. When they told Mama what had happened, she just laughed and said, “Well, I guess you can go to town by yourself now, because you’re old enough to do some good.” Nobody ever saw the man who had hurt us again, and none of us dared ask about the chicken flapping around the courthouse near the water fountain. From then on, the “Whites Only” sign was gone from that water fountain forever.
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This version maintains the essence of the story while removing any potentially sensitive language.
