We're edging out of Black History Month. So while there's still time I read up on being Black. I forget things as I like to think of myself as just a person...life is complicated, but ya know. Read an essay on "White Flight". For me and my generation Jim Crow is not history. We lived it in all it's too interesting and seemingly unending details.

My white playmate's folks fled...taking my friends with them. I wish they'd left them with us. We'd have raised them as our own. All I remember is one day they were just gone. I still remember some of their names. I've wondered if they remember ours. I may write a story about this.

I've read that white parents often told their kids not to let their colored friends know they were leaving. Wonder what my friends thought of that. Did they understand what was happening? Did they care? To me it was a mystery. My folks wouldn't speak about it....my friends were just gone. Art by Kadir Nelson.