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Friday, March 05, 2021

First Impressions Matter

 One of my earliest memories:
standing in line 
with my parents
at some amusement park
or public place,
(that's how early this memory is),
and I was holding my father's hand.

I was so little
probably 2 or 3
and I was just immersed 
in the experience
so much

I heard my parents 
from behind me
say
"What are you doing?"

So I looked behind me
and there were my parents

so then whose hand
was I holding?

I looked up 
and saw a beatific 
face of a chuckling,
middle-aged 
African-American man,
just smiling at me,
amused at this mystery child
holding onto his hand.

That image of smiling grace
is fundamental to who I am.

All my life,
as a Mexican-American,
I've never felt anything
but kinship,
acceptance,
for African-Americans,

and I wonder if
that smile had something to do 
with it.

First impressions matter.

1 comment:

  1. Can't help but smile,at your recalling of this precious memory from your childhood, Mosk. I was about 6 years old, when I met my first African-Canadian. He was a classmate, in a small southern Ontario rural village. It was at his house, I was introduced to baseball and the Montreal Expos. Thank you, Tunis.

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