Extemporaneous musings, occasionally poetic, about life in its richly varied dimensions, especially as relates to history, theology, law, literature, science, by one who is an attorney, ordained minister, historian, writer, and African American.
I remember standing in my crib when a jar of molasses exploded on the iron stove on the farm. Scared the dickens out of me. I remember bouncing in the bed, when my sister, Schleria, was a baby and she bounced onto the floor and began crying. I remember getting my hand slammed in a car door, as we were leaving church one night. I have other memories too. In each of those described, I was no older than 3, if that.