My earliest childhood memory occurred when I was around five. We lived in a rural area outside Memphis in a big white shack with a fig tree in the front yard. That tree produced delicious figs that kept our hungry bellies full. My oldest brother, Tippy, was ten years older than me and was known for speaking his opinion. He was a very smart, talented artist, musician and public speaker. One day I remember Dad, other men, and our older cousin standing in the dirt driveway of the house, near the road. It was customary for men to discuss their business out of earshot for fear others’ would hear and tell what they were talking about. It was not uncommon for some black men to hide under the house at night to hear the conversation inside and tell the white landowners. Shortly after this discussion, he went to live with an older cousin in Memphis. I wanted to know why but didn’t get an answer.
Read more in my memoirs. They’re available at Simply Best Reads Bookstore or on Amazon.
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