be.â
And now that Iâve found Utopia I am at peace . . . drinking the Jazz Series from Dogfish brewery : Brother Thelonious, Bitches Brew, Hellhound on My Ale. I have Utopia and if I were Egyptian I would be buried with it. I use it to start conversations and make friends. It is not for Mortals. Or Americans. Utopia is for Poets . . . or the Gods.
A SHORT ESSAY NOT ON WHY I DONâT ASK PERSONAL QUESTIONS BUT A BALANCING SHARING ON WHEN I FIRST DID
I went to the memory bank to see when it was that I last asked a personal question since we were talking and I said to you: I donât . When it got to be more than twenty years back I began to feel the journey wasnât worth it but then I said: Oh, put ten more years in . I still couldnât come up with a question. The last person I asked a personal question of, I think, is Sister Althea and I wanted to know why she became a nun. I must have been twelve or thirteen years old. Thank goodness she took it in the love it was given or I guess in this case Asked.
So I thought since I had asked a personal question of you, mainly: What were you like at 17? I thought I should answer it about myself.
I asked because my own journey begins not actually at 17 but events that would make 17 a mountain began to be put in place. My aunt Ann lived in Philadelphia and my grandfather wanted to go visit her. I was living with Grandmother and Grandpapa in Knoxville and was in school at Austin High. There are still memories I need to mine to see the how and why but I knew I couldnât live with my parents and my grandparents were kind enough to take me in. I think now the reason I went to Philadelphia with Grandpapa and not Grandmother is that we probably could only afford two tickets. I wasnât thinking about that then or maybe Grandmother had meetings (she was a committed club woman: Garden, Book, Deaconess, Bridge, NAACP among others). Grandmother was very popular so she may have had commitments. At any rate Grandpapa and I took the train to Philly. It was a day trip, change in DC and we were there that night. I learned the subway system the hard way: I got on and rode to Center City. I walked to the Liberty Bell and purchased a little copy for my mother which sits still on my dresser. I was very proud of myself because I am mostly adventurous in my head. I had lunch at the Reading Market and went back home by subway. I was thrilled that I could do it.
A day or so later we received a call from Grandmother. She said I needed to come back to Knoxville because she had talked with Mme. Stokes, the French teacher, who told her there was a test I should take. The Ford Foundation had a program called Early Entrant to College. You take a test, do well, and you go off to college. Grandmother was always thrilled when any of us did well so she thought I should come home and take the test. That would have meant Grandpapa would have to cut short his trip which didnât seem right. Uncle Haynes took me to the train station and gave me directions about changing in DC. I learned later he also asked the Pullman Porters to look out for me.
The first book I ever bought for myself was a biography of Clarence Darrow, Attorney for the Damned, but I doubt I was reading anything so useful. Most likely something trashy, since Iâve always been a fan of trashy heroes. I bought a small box of chocolate chip cookies and sat down. One of my good things is I can actually sit still for interminable lengths of time. I didnât do much between Philly and DC but be a bit nervous about making my connection.
After DC it was on to Knoxville. I no longer had to worry so I opened my book and my chocolate chip cookies. Two young white soldiers started to talk about me: She has those cookies; I wonder if sheâll give us one. I remember looking at them. They were as young as I was or so they seemed. I said: Do you want a cookie? And they laughed. They meant me no harm. They were, I
And now that Iâve found Utopia I am at peace . . . drinking the Jazz Series from Dogfish brewery : Brother Thelonious, Bitches Brew, Hellhound on My Ale. I have Utopia and if I were Egyptian I would be buried with it. I use it to start conversations and make friends. It is not for Mortals. Or Americans. Utopia is for Poets . . . or the Gods.
A SHORT ESSAY NOT ON WHY I DONâT ASK PERSONAL QUESTIONS BUT A BALANCING SHARING ON WHEN I FIRST DID
I went to the memory bank to see when it was that I last asked a personal question since we were talking and I said to you: I donât . When it got to be more than twenty years back I began to feel the journey wasnât worth it but then I said: Oh, put ten more years in . I still couldnât come up with a question. The last person I asked a personal question of, I think, is Sister Althea and I wanted to know why she became a nun. I must have been twelve or thirteen years old. Thank goodness she took it in the love it was given or I guess in this case Asked.
So I thought since I had asked a personal question of you, mainly: What were you like at 17? I thought I should answer it about myself.
I asked because my own journey begins not actually at 17 but events that would make 17 a mountain began to be put in place. My aunt Ann lived in Philadelphia and my grandfather wanted to go visit her. I was living with Grandmother and Grandpapa in Knoxville and was in school at Austin High. There are still memories I need to mine to see the how and why but I knew I couldnât live with my parents and my grandparents were kind enough to take me in. I think now the reason I went to Philadelphia with Grandpapa and not Grandmother is that we probably could only afford two tickets. I wasnât thinking about that then or maybe Grandmother had meetings (she was a committed club woman: Garden, Book, Deaconess, Bridge, NAACP among others). Grandmother was very popular so she may have had commitments. At any rate Grandpapa and I took the train to Philly. It was a day trip, change in DC and we were there that night. I learned the subway system the hard way: I got on and rode to Center City. I walked to the Liberty Bell and purchased a little copy for my mother which sits still on my dresser. I was very proud of myself because I am mostly adventurous in my head. I had lunch at the Reading Market and went back home by subway. I was thrilled that I could do it.
A day or so later we received a call from Grandmother. She said I needed to come back to Knoxville because she had talked with Mme. Stokes, the French teacher, who told her there was a test I should take. The Ford Foundation had a program called Early Entrant to College. You take a test, do well, and you go off to college. Grandmother was always thrilled when any of us did well so she thought I should come home and take the test. That would have meant Grandpapa would have to cut short his trip which didnât seem right. Uncle Haynes took me to the train station and gave me directions about changing in DC. I learned later he also asked the Pullman Porters to look out for me.
The first book I ever bought for myself was a biography of Clarence Darrow, Attorney for the Damned, but I doubt I was reading anything so useful. Most likely something trashy, since Iâve always been a fan of trashy heroes. I bought a small box of chocolate chip cookies and sat down. One of my good things is I can actually sit still for interminable lengths of time. I didnât do much between Philly and DC but be a bit nervous about making my connection.
After DC it was on to Knoxville. I no longer had to worry so I opened my book and my chocolate chip cookies. Two young white soldiers started to talk about me: She has those cookies; I wonder if sheâll give us one. I remember looking at them. They were as young as I was or so they seemed. I said: Do you want a cookie? And they laughed. They meant me no harm. They were, I
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