The Water Tastes the Same

I grew up during the bleak days of segregation in America. Some of my earliest memories of reading were sounding out the terms “Whites seat from front. Coloreds seat from rear.” while boarding the bus as just a small child in Atlanta, Ga. I can recall vividly the separate entrances, seating and water fountains.

In a recent interview, I was asked to describe these circumstances that painted the backdrop for my childhood.  I remembered a particular afternoon of mischief with my brother, Thurman, and how it solidified my view of race forever.