The Old South

I was reading on the web last night, could not sleep again, and I ran into a post on Quennie's site. It was about a little black boy at a store in South Carolina, the owner called him a nigger and told him to leave and never come back. That was very mean for that old man to cuss that boy out, he was just a kid. My mama was an American Indian, she always had black ladies working for her, not only did they work but they were also friends of the family. My mama always had money and gave it to many a stranger, she use to bury those old black people that were kin to her help. She always had a bill at the black funeral parlor, two blocks away. I use to play with small black kids. That is the way it was in our neighborhood. All blacks are not niggers and all niggers are not black, I hope you understand that. I did not start hating some blacks until I was older, the reason for that is, they stole from me, broke into my house, always hit my car and had no insurance.  I use to hate and hear the Kennedy's say so many good things about the blacks, hell, they never had to work with any, go to school with any, the only blacks they were ever around were the higher educated ones and the very rich blacks. I have some very good black friends, better than some of my white ones.  Just writing about my life and times in Savannah, when I was growing up. And that blog post kinda made me mad, take care and have a good day, Cat