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  1. “My neighbor growing up was a survivor. I remember seeing her number once. Strange.”

    I had 2 Hungarian relatives (my father’s cousins) with numbers on their arms. One of those stories where their spouses were each killed in Auschwitz, they met, and married after the war.

  2. jessi, I should add that I’ve been to the former West Germany, and a number of cities there, and I had no problem with that.

    (Although I did almost get pummeled on the ferry back from Germany to Denmark when my Danish friend muttered “Unconditional Surrender” under his breath while we were waiting on line behind a group of Germans.)

  3. To follow up on MM’s post (which is spot on btw), blackness is not a commodity that can be bought and sold in stores. My blackness does not exist in the ‘Hip-Hop/R&B’ aisle of the local cd store. My blackness can not be found on sale at the RocaWear/FUBU/Baby Phat racks on Fulton Street. My blackness is not seen in low-hanging pants and any particular way of speaking. My blackness is a lifetime of experiences that shape my thoughts, my actions, my beliefs. It is a family, a community of experience, a culture, a history, a future. It cannot be copied. It cannot be co-opted. It bears no price tag.

  4. “i think if i had to have a mother i would want one of those pursey lipped waspy ones who dont like to talk.”

    That style of parenting has its own drawbacks, rob. Otherwise, Philip Larkin would not have written this poem (right, etson?):

    They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
    They may not mean to, but they do.
    They fill you with the faults they had
    And add some extra, just for you.

    But they were fucked up in their turn
    By fools in old-style hats and coats,
    Who half the time were soppy-stern
    And half at one another’s throats.

    Man hands on misery to man.
    It deepens like a coastal shelf.
    Get out as early as you can,
    And don’t have any kids yourself.

    –Philip Larkin

  5. “My mother, stepfather and grandmother were apoplectic when they had an unscheduled landing in Frankfurt once”

    Wow. That’s something else.

    My neighbor growing up was a survivor. I remember seeing her number once. Strange.

  6. MM, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. After all, this is a guy who won’t walk near the projects, and crosses the street when he sees a couple of Black kids coming. Most white kids that want to be ‘down’ have at least paid those dues.

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