A BEAUTIFUL RESISTANCE
As a child, I never went to sleep at bedtime. I loved to hear them laugh.
I stayed up late, reading pages of Norton Juster and listening to the grown folk in the other room laugh from their spirit and their bellies. Happy howls. They played backgammon and spades and listened to old records by Rick James and Donny Hathaway.
The smell of weed wafted beneath the cracks of my bedroom door. And I could hear the clink of their glasses. Some nights, theyâd drink Crown Royal and Coca-Cola. But what I remember most is they never touched the bottle of Dom Perignon. Or maybe it was Perrier.