Living Under a Shadow...

I remember back in the my hay-days of loving life lived in that little-o southern city that felt it shoulda, coulda, woulda been from the north that on the first day of summer almost each and every year on the front pager of the Sun would be found a smiling black child with a quarter of watermelon up to its cute little-o pickaninny mouth, like clockwork. Oh what is felt like living in the shadow of a past unknown yet still painful. What has come about living in the southwest is that blacks are not the only ones living under a shadow from the past.