The soulful monkeys22

Yesterday around noon, I was walking down the 150th Street hill with my weighted shoes on. When I was coming back up, I saw four little boys — three black and one white. One of the black boys stood in front of me, practically blocking me, with folded hands. There was no joke involved. So I looked at him very soulfully. I couldn’t believe my eyes: the other three monkeys were silent. For them to even remain silent was something. Three of them just looked at me, but the other one folded his hands.

When I passed by them, I didn’t hear anything, so I knew that they were not cutting jokes. This kind of experience I very seldom get. I was very, very deeply moved to get that kind of treatment from those monkeys.

RB 567. 26 June 1982