I read something on Facebook today that reminded me of this song my dad used to play, carefully positioning the needle in just the right place above the record, anxiously awaiting the familiar, static-filled tune. Growing up in the 1970s in our little three-room house on Union Street it wasnt easy to escape the pain that enveloped the Black generation of that time. This is when I first learned about pain and color and the differences in the hues of Blackness. I learned that it was tough to be dark Black, hard to be light Black, and great to be White. Many things have changed since then, but not enough it seems. The pain still seems to be alive and well. Can we all stop for a moment, and give a collective thanks, and love one another... https://youtube/watch?v=inFDgCSGWDs
Posted on: Thu, 27 Nov 2014 19:40:04 +0000