We, my parents and I, moved to many places because of discrimination. My dad had one arm, and no one would hire him. It was cut off by a tractor when he was 12, and all he could remember was having to walk home alone from the hospital, thinking, “now no one will choose me for their baseball team.” Then my mother died when I was six, in childbirth. And yet I was fortunate.
Continue reading...TS Murphy
an artist, writer, educator who lives, loves, and creates in New Jersey
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