When we sit down to eat, we inhale the briny aroma, then inhale the food. We are so busy eating, we hardly converse.
My kids consider southern gospel the soundtrack for segregation the same way they consider freedom songs the soundtrack for the civil rights movement.
Unlike my children, I was born in a segregated Canada, by which I do not mean a country racially divided. My country, politically speaking, was white-and I grew up in it.
They notice the music. 'Mother! What are we listening to!' they exclaim. 'How can you be so Black and militant and still listen to these white southern hymns?'
I change the music to something we can all enjoy: Mahalia Jackson's 'Take My Hand, Precious Lord,' perhaps, or some classic Bob Marley.
#cultural-identity #generational-differences #food-and-family #music-and-memories #race-and-politics
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