“One night I took her to see a new play by a black playwright. It was a very angry play, but very funny. Typical black American humor. The audience was mostly black, and everybody was laughing and clapping and hollering like they were in church. After the play was over, my friend started talking about why black people were so angry all the time. I said it was a matter of remembering—nobody asks why Jews remember the Holocaust, I think I said—and she said that’s different, and I said it wasn’t, and she said that anger was just a dead end. We had a big fight, right in front of the theater. “When we got back to the car she started crying. She couldn’t be black, she said. She would if she could, but she couldn’t. She could only be herself, and wasn’t that enough.”

Folks, My fellow Americans, read “In Dreams From My Father.”  Does anyone remember “Mein kampf”  Let’s not repeat history, or we are for sure, condemned to repeat it.  By the way, don’t buy it for god sake, if u know what I mean, get it from your local library, who knows maybe u can find it online.  GOD BLESS AMERICA!