My family and I were headed to Powells Bookstores, Chicago when my youngest son tripped and skinned his knee on the sidewalk.
There was a group of Black teens about half a block behind us and one yelled “Dayyyyamm!” While my son was crying. I shot them the most hostile look I could muster. As my wife and sons entered the bookstore, I hung back because I just couldn’t let that shit go.
As the youth reached me, before I could let loose with the curse words..and fist if it came to that, one of the youth asked; “Hey is little man OK?” Then the other said; “yeah, that looked like a bad fall.” I responded; “he’s cool, thanks.” Then entered the bookstore feeling like and old fool.
I was taught that I still have some growing to do.
