“How come the Negroes live in shacks?” I asked with the innocence of an ten-year-old.
“Because they are so poor,
“Why the poor?”
“Cause they don’t have any land.”
“Hey, I see lots of land,” I said pointing to towards a sprawling plantation with stately white pillars. “The whole town could fit in that house; it’s bigger than a hotel!”
At Piney Woods School, my brother and I played basketball with the black boys on a dirt court in a sun-baked paradise surrounded by pine and honey-scented pink and white magnolias. I thought I had died and gone to heaven