the 60’s

In the early sixties, my mom’s water   broke, signaling my upcoming arrival nto the world. My parents eagerly headed a hospital, but, was denied access. it was the sixties and no black child was going to be born in this lily white hospital. My father was in military uniform and had vowed to lay down his life for his country, but, it was the sixties and rules were rules. My father, violenty rearranged the funiture in the hosiptal before tenderly helping my mother back into the car where he drove across town to the free clinic, the colored clinic where I was born.

In the mid- sixties, when my mom was a single parent, she found it exhausting to find aadequete housing for her and her two sons. It was the sixities and no lanlord was required to house a single mother with kids, especially a black one. So my brother and I lived with relatives during the week and we visited, stayed with our mom on the weekends only if we rembered to called her auntie, in order not to arouse suspition by the landlord.

In the late sixties, Neal Armstrong stepped on the moon saying , “One small step for man, one giant step for mankind.” He wasn’t the only one stepping into the future, blacks were stepping out from under their secound class citiizenship all across the america. It was the sixties and blacks were stepping with a determined, defiant swagger . As Sam Cooke sung, “a change is gonna come.”

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