Bud, Not Buddy

Bud walks to the public library on the north side, hoping to sleep in the basement and get help from Miss Hill the next day. When he arrives, however, he finds the basement windows barred. He sits beneath the pine trees alongside the library and removes his blanket from his suitcase. After checking his flyers and tobacco bag of rocks, determines they did not take anything. He holds his photo of Momma in the light and thinks about the conversation they repeatedly had about it. In the photo, Momma is about ten years old like Bud is now. Her father arranged for a photographer to take her photo sitting on a miniature, sway-backed horse. Momma holds prop six-shooter pistols and wears a cowboy hat that is exaggeratedly tall. Her expression is moody and angry. Momma told Bud that her “hardheaded” father forced her to wear the hat despite how filthy it was.

Bud remembers Momma as a high-energy, intense woman: “[…] she was like a tornado, never resting, always looking around us, never standing still” (41). In addition to the story about the photo, Momma often repeated three other important things to Bud. The first regarded his name: “I knew what I was doing, Buddy is a dog’s name or a name the someone’s going to use on you if they’re being false-friendly” (41).