She doesn’t get it. Even if she did, she wouldn’t appreciate it.
He grew up in Homewood. That’s the ghetto to you. A long way from Mr. Rogers’ mansion on Squirrel Hill, where he would yell at the kids to get the heck off his lawn. A roof that caved in every other year, you could set your calendar by it. Baptist churches where they sang for one more cut down, lying in the street. Crack or smack, take your pick. The curse of the 90s. He got out while he could.
Choice don’t grow up in the ghetto. Poor folk don’t have the luxury of plotting their path. They don’t make plans. They react to what comes.
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2 comments:
Thanks a lot for saying this -- a lot of people never understand. It's important to remember that for a lot of us life isn't an opportunity to be used to full advantage; it's a burden to be endured on a moment-by-moment basis.
I'm working at and making progress toward the first attitude and I've come a long fucking way; but it ain't easy. It just ain't.
I think it's a work in progress for us all. Myself included by far.
That's why I want to make a point of it in The Project -- so much of it is the narrator (okay, me) whining and bitching about Why Me? I want to show her (me) from an external perspective, preferably from that of a shaking head.
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