I spent part of my morning working on a post I just put up on the website. It seems that my AI Overlord isn’t happy with my writing style and wants me to be more “clerical”. Well I hate to tell my “all knowing buddy”, but that just ain’t my style. You see I’m southern born and southern breed. I grew up in a polite nice/nasty little town of Savannah, GA where compliments were often interwoven with snarky little remarks. So forgive me if my native tongue doesn’t translate well to more “sensitive ears”, but it’s hard to live above my raisin’.
Across the way I can hear an air compressor running over in the logging yard. Next door the once respectable Baptist (I’m still holding a grudge) are putting out their smokes to head inside to church. Meanwhile I’m sitting with my back to the sun enjoying a light cool breeze with a few brushed on white clouds paint above a plain blue sky. It appears everybody was a little naughty Saturday night judging by the number of cars parked next door. All while lowly old me, listens to the choir of chirping birds in the woods across the street.
Growing up in a port city I guess I have a different perspective on how life works. Back home I was surrounded by all kinds of people both black and white, gay and straight, rich and poor. Back then we all just seemed to get or at least be cordial towards one another. In the mid-1980’s I briefly lived in Chicago, I remember how overwhelmed I was by the pace of that city. But while it seemed a little dangerous, most people there were still friendly and personable.
But as the church bell rings calling the people to worship. I’m reminded of how alienating one can be made to feel when you are not welcome. It’s a suspicion you feel in your gut given off by those that dominant. It’s a feeling I felt when I was bullied as a kid. It’s the feeling one gets when despite your best efforts, your still considered less than. You see, it’s not so much a desire to live above my raisin’, but to overcome the prejudice that’s trying to keep me down.
Across the way I can hear an air compressor running over in the logging yard. Next door the once respectable Baptist (I’m still holding a grudge) are putting out their smokes to head inside to church. Meanwhile I’m sitting with my back to the sun enjoying a light cool breeze with a few brushed on white clouds paint above a plain blue sky. It appears everybody was a little naughty Saturday night judging by the number of cars parked next door. All while lowly old me, listens to the choir of chirping birds in the woods across the street.
Growing up in a port city I guess I have a different perspective on how life works. Back home I was surrounded by all kinds of people both black and white, gay and straight, rich and poor. Back then we all just seemed to get or at least be cordial towards one another. In the mid-1980’s I briefly lived in Chicago, I remember how overwhelmed I was by the pace of that city. But while it seemed a little dangerous, most people there were still friendly and personable.
But as the church bell rings calling the people to worship. I’m reminded of how alienating one can be made to feel when you are not welcome. It’s a suspicion you feel in your gut given off by those that dominant. It’s a feeling I felt when I was bullied as a kid. It’s the feeling one gets when despite your best efforts, your still considered less than. You see, it’s not so much a desire to live above my raisin’, but to overcome the prejudice that’s trying to keep me down.
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