Page 113 of Good Dirt

Legacy

T he Old Mo exhibit is a hit. The sign next to the jar reminds visitors that while they are invited to touch its surface, the piece is damaged, so they are kindly requested to refrain from hugging or leaning on it. But after reading the informational panel about Old Mo’s history, and after seeing the inscription on the bottom of the vessel, many people simply cannot resist.

By the end of the first several months, when the museum is forced to shut its doors for the third time due to the pandemic, Mo’s Selfie Bank is filled with rotating digital images of people with their arms wrapped around Old Mo. There are children, retirees, and people of various colors in all manner of headdress.

Someone has their face pressed against the side of Old Mo. Someone else is kissing the jar. In one image, someone has positioned framed photographs of their ancestors around Old Mo on the stand built to support the jar. That one makes Ebby laugh out loud. In another photo, three students, one of them in tears, hold up a large piece of paper with five words written out in large black letters. Ebby catches her breath. She recognizes the phrase. They are the words from the bottom of thejar.

They are the words that Moses wrote after Betsey lost her life. They are the words that Willis saw before he decided to make a run for freedom. They are the words that Ebby’s dad showed to her mom on the day that he led her into his family’s library. The students have written the words exactly as they appear on the jar:

The Mind

Cannot

Be Chained

Ebby nods as she reads the words again. At least, this, she thinks. At least, this.