Here is an eloquent self-portrait of several generations of a black family and its search for dignity within the American dream. It is a book about small but nevertheless promising futures-a book with the appeal that audiences found in Roots.
              Despite its initial promise, the north is no longer the Promised Land for blacks. In increasing numbers they are returning to the south, even at the cost of losing the economic security found in northern cities. Goin' Home is the story of one such family's migration, told in its own words.
               Mr. and Mrs. "Bud" Stanford live in the sleepy town of Eufaula, Alabama, where for fifty years they have surrounded them- selves with the fruits of their labors and loves. They have watched the changes in race relations but have remained isolated from their developments. However, for their sons, Hayward and twenty-four-year- old Arthur, times have changed, and both men set off for Boston with hopes of better opportunities. Arthur, during his six-year stay, finds his wife Alma, but the better life proves bitter. Boston, with its traditions of democracy and its symbols of freedom, is divided by racial problems of frightening magnitude, and its subtle forms of prejudice erode self-esteem and human dignity.
             Finally, Arthur and Alma leave Boston with their young son for Atlanta, and then ultimately to build a house on the Stanford land. Although they live in conditions bordering on poverty, they believe that, close to their roots, they may achieve the inner happiness that will be their version of the American Dream.
             Goin' Home is a poignant story that brings the plight and promise of a new generation of black Americans into sharp and dramatic focus.

ALMA

              The music is invariably by black artists. The one tape that's played over and over again is by the Staple Singers, and their favorite song is "Unlock Your Mind." Leading off the front room is the master bedroom. The window overlooks some trees in the backyard. Centered in the bedroom is a massive water bed. It takes up nearly two-thirds of the space.
The kitchen is spacious. It has a small, circular dining table, with straight-backed chairs to one side, and there is more than enough room left over to move around easily.
             Alma is trying to sort out what she is going to take on their move, and what to leave behind. The contrast between Arthur and Alma is striking. She is more confident, more extroverted. A slim striking woman, her face is heart-shaped with a strong jaw, prominent cheekbones, a pretty nose and an expressive mouth. She has a gold tooth: it is a broad shining incisor. It has been a long time since I've seen such a gold tooth. It belongs to another era when only the rich wore gold in their mouths.
Alma is twenty-four and has an engaging quality composed of both boldness and shyness. The shyness appears affected at times. When she's spoken to, she bends her head away and down, as if she doesn't want to face the person addressing her. Then she peeps up, studies the person seriously, and laughs before replying. From our earliest meeting she is much easier to talk to; though the blend of coquetry and outspokenness keeps me off balance. I am never sure whether she is amused or impatient with my questions. I imagine courting her must have been difficult. It took Arthur six months and only his patience could finally have interpreted the dips and turns of her moods.
            She speaks differently from Arthur. Hers is a Northern accent. The words are quick, clipped, yet she too comes from the South. Her parents live in Memphis, Tennessee, and she too, like Arthur, left home and went North the moment she was of age.
             "I had a sister here," Alma says, "so that's why I picked Boston." Her voice lilts. It drops and rises an octave. She is more nervous than she reveals and laughs between sentences. " All I wanted to do was just get away from the South. I didn't hear nothing about Boston. All I know is a city in the North, so I just came."
             Alma came to Boston in 1972. Unlike Arthur she was aware that if she was to do well she needed something more than a high school diploma. She enrolled at the ITT technical school and took a course as a nurse's aide.
             " Another reason I come here," Alma says as we move into the living room, "was because I got tired with down South. The only thing I could find as work was like farming, picking cotton, gardening, picking beans and stuff like that to make a living. I graduated from high school in 1971, and the only job there was picking cotton, and you could make like three dollars a hundred, so to make any money I had to pick. . I mean make any money. ..least pick three hundred a day which was only nine dollars still. So if like that was the only job you had for the week, you would bring home like thirty dollars or twenty-five dollars. Depends on how much cotton you pick. I used to pick two hundred and fifty and pull a nine-foot sack all day on my back."
            "What is a 'hundred'?"
            "Pounds," Alma says and laughs. "Don't you know anything? I was paid three dollars to pick one hundred pounds of cotton. I did it from six o' clock to six o' clock, with a nine-foot sack on my back."
As she is only five foot four and a half I can't visualize how she did it.
             "It's over your shoulder," Alma says, "and. ..you drag it on the ground behind you."
             "You drag it" Arthur says. "1 sure never did that. I have picked cotton, but nothin' like the way Alma picked. I never picked seven hundred pounds that whole week you know, and so I never did too well."