Three Times
That was the number of times that house was broken in one week. The south ide of Fort Worth, at the time was home of a Coca-Cola plant, and minutes away from Tandy Corporation. Dad worked at Coca-Cola, well at least he thought he did, and mother she thought she worked for the Tandy Corporation. Inside that yellow house on Magnolia Avenue, siblings shared a room and at times a bed. I was the oldest of two, and was born in Wichita, Kansas.
“Hey kids come check out what they were throwing away at work,” my mom belted out at us as we sang songs into the black Radio-Shack tape recorder in our room. We come out of our room to see this machine plugged into the television, and on the television we saw our favorite Sesame Street character. Cookie Monster was eating numbers on our color television. We had a computer. …show more content…
At that age a parent’s warning is a mere dare to do. While playing outside to impress the older kids, we would talk about this computer. They didn’t believe us.
Three times that week the older kids became believers.
Big Yellow Bus
“Where did you niggers come from?” I stood at a bus stop by my school, to ride a bus to another school an hour away and this was the first question I was asked by this boy whose face was peppered with freckles. The educated folks called it desegregation, the community called it two-way busing.
I called it hot hell. The passage often involved fighting, singing of popular songs and plenty of yelling from the bus driver. It was hot, and it was even hotter when the bus driver had to pull over on the side of the road to stop a fight or argument amongst hot, stressed kids.
Arrival. Building where vastly different, clean bathrooms, books with white crisp pages. I would never fully understand until 15-20 years later why the books had crisp pages and covers, and why the desk where never tipsy or way you never caught splinters on your backside from sitting at this new