Have a Little Faith
A True Story
Mitch Albom
FINALLY, A BOOK FOR MY FATHER, IRA ALBOM,
IN WHOM I HAVE ALWAYS BELIEVED.
Life of Henry
At the same time I was growing up in the suburbs, a boy about my age was being raised in Brooklyn.
One day, he, too, would grapple with his faith. But his path was different.
As a child, he slept with rats.
Henry Covington was the second-youngest of seven kids born to his parents, Willie and Wilma
Covington. They had a tiny, cramped apartment on Warren Street. Four brothers slept in one room;
three sisters slept in another.
The rats occupied the kitchen.
At night, the family left a pot of rice on the counter, so the rats would jump in and stay out of the
bedrooms. During the day, Henry's oldest brother kept the rodents at bay with a BB gun. Henry grew up
terrified of the creatures, his sleep uneasy, fearful of bites.
Henry's mother was a maid-she mostly worked for Jewish families-and his father was a hustler, a tall,
powerful man who liked to sing around the house. He had a sweet voice, like Otis Redding, but on
Friday nights he would shave in the mirror and croon "Big Legged Woman," and his wife would steam
because she knew where he was going. Fights would break out. Loud and violent.
When Henry was five years old, one such drunken scuffle drew his parents outside, screaming and
cursing. Wilma pulled a .22-caliber rifle and threatened to shoot her husband. Another man jumped in
just as she pulled the trigger, yelling, "No, Missus, don't do that!"
The bullet got him in the arm.
Wilma Covington was sent away to Bedford Hills, a maximum security prison for women. Two years.
On weekends, Henry would go with his father to visit her. They would talk through glass.
"Do you miss me?" she would ask.
