A Taste of Honey

Do you remember when you’d play games with the neighborhood kids and there was that kid who’d get mad when things didn’t go his way, grab his ball, stalk off home, and end the game for everybody?

How about that kid who was always picking on somebody…a straight up bully…who just never let up with the attacks?  That kid who’d have a meltdown when the person he was picking on finally and deservedly gave him a taste of his own medicine?

Ever encountered that kid who is totally out of control and has no parental discipline?  The kid whose mom can’t do anything with him and his dad doesn’t care enough to even try?  Yeah, that kid.  The one who makes your fingers twitch to pinch.  That one. 

Here are my personal takeaways from my latest listening session of Mary L. Trump’s book:

• The TRUE heart of the author’s uncle for my people was revealed in 1973 when he was sued for racial discrimination in housing.  Before that lawsuit—which he fought for two years…two, no black people could rent homes in his developments.

• Cheating seems to be second nature.  Isn’t it illegal to pay someone to take the SAT for you? I always thought so.  The author left room for verification of the validity of this charge:  She named names.  Yes, she did.

• The following words cycled through my mind repeatedly:  cold, callous, unempathetic and amoral.

• It’s sad when the kid I talked about earlier becomes a man and still has the same horrible traits.  If that kid would’ve had just a taste of Honey (my mom’s nickname was Honey) and experienced one…just one…of her back hands, I believe he would’ve become a better person.  At the very least, he’d be very clear on the differences between right and wrong.

I’m still listening…