
I forget exactly how old I was. Maybe 9. Maybe 10. It was summer. A Sunday. Dad and I were preparing to spend the day at the hoop courts behind Reizenstein—him running full on the main court with the rest of the oldheads, and me doing Mikans and playing 33 on side hoops with whichever kids wanted to get clapped. We…
source https://verysmartbrothas.theroot.com/america-aint-better-than-this-1845227530
America Ain't Better Than This
Reviewed by Black America Press
on
September 30, 2020
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