Page 2: ut I keep getting asked to do more, be at more places. I didn’t think I’d be running back with my tail between my legs after six months, but I truly never imagined things would feel so familiar. It feels good. On Sundays, after helping out with the breakfast program, Virginia and I go to Gerald’s to listen to music and have dinner with him and his wife, Marie. I honestly don’t know how she puts up with him everyday but they seem happy. And it’s the only time he calms down...mostly. Get enough scotch in him and it’s back to “We need to take action! Our big brothers in the Panthers need to stop taking pictures with those rifles and USE EM.” Josie, they got me drinkin scotch! With nothing but ice and a cigarette in the other hand. I feel like one of those rich ladies in the city who get picked up in cars. And it’s every Sunday. Marie always jokes about smoking and drinking and listening to Ray Charles’ records. “We pray Sunday morning and sin Sunday night.” But it never feels like sinning to me. It feels like family. Family minus one, obviously. I got people. And they make me happy. And I can feel your face scrunching because I haven’t mentioned the news or the papers or the stories that you told me got to you and nana. Mary Poppins said a spoonful of sugar, girl. I’m getting there. “Tensions are high. Just be on your guard.” That’s how Gerald ends most meetings. We not even doing anything violent or loud. But we’ve pledged ourselves to the Black Panthers, and we’ve agreed to protest when they protest and help out when they need us. And that’s enough. Enough for a target on our backs.