My 83-year-old dad has been a Christian minister most of my life. I thought back to when I was a child, how even our neighborhood winos respected my dad; partly because he was a true man of God, but I believe mostly because dad respected them. Dad always greeted everyone with a smile and a cheerful, "Hello, how ya' doin'?"
Though well versed in the Word of God, dad's character and attitude were his greatest sermon. The winos would aggressively protect us "HEY, that's one of Reverend Moccasins (Marcus') kids, leave 'em alone!"
I was around twelve years old when our family, mom, dad, and four younger siblings, moved out of a Baltimore city government housing project into our home in Pumphrey, Maryland; a black suburban community.
Upon our arrival to Pumphery, the overgrowth in our back yard was at least six feet tall. My entire family tackled the jungle. An over six foot tall, powerful, leather skinned, hard hands, old working man appeared with a huge sickle. He introduced himself and led the charge in conquering the overgrowth. We later learned that our helpful neighbor, Mr Charley, was famed as the meanest man in the community.
- Sunday, June 19, 2011