Three cookie jars on a counter
Kathleen Franklin/Flickr

Let’s all thank God for the warm weather!

In my last article, I wrote about growing up in North Carolina. Those were the best years of my life because I had no adult stresses and I had a lot of friends and family.

My first recollection of a white person was my playmate, Kathy. My step-grandmother was a maid for Kathy’s parents. During the summer, Kathy and I would play in the fields and pick fruit from the trees. She also taught me how to ride her horse. I know someone took a picture, but I don’t have it. Or maybe I just can’t find it.

Kathy’s family was well-to-do in my town. Her grandfather, Mr. Manning, owned a store. Now I’m going to tell a secret about it. Kathy and I would go to the store and “steal” cookies from a big jar on the counter. Okay, we weren’t really stealing because Mr. Manning knew we were taking the cookies and he never stopped us. But Kathy and I sure had fun!

Living in this town gave me very fond memories of Kathy and her relatives. Just to remind ya’ll, there are some good white people in the South.

(to be continued)