my sister went for my mom to get my mom’s purse. The great thing about my mom’s purse is that no matter what you need at any given moment, she has it.
When I was little, I used to call it the “first-aid kit” because that’s all we needed back then.
I still can’t figure out how she does it. After primping, my sister followed the trail of graduation caps to the field,
and we all found our way to the bleachers. I sat in between my mom and brother since my dad was off getting a better camera angle.
And my mom kept shushing my grandfather, who kept talking about how many black people were in the school.
When she couldn’t stop him, she mentioned my story about the TV news sports man talking about my brother.
This made my grandfather call my brother over to talk about it.
This was smart on my mom’s part because my brother is the only person who can get my grandfather to stop making a scene
because he’s really direct about it. After the story, this is what happened… “Jesus. Look at these bleachers.
How many colored people—” My brother cut him off.
“Okay, Grandpa. Here’s the deal. If you embarrass us one more time, I’m going to drive you back to the nursing home,
and you’ll never see your granddaughter give a speech.” My brother is real tough.
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