Last week, I posted a diary on a troubling experience, and promised a follow-up by Monday. Sorry to say work has kept me busy, but here it is.
To recap the earlier diary, last Thursday night my son Tyren, telling me about his day in first grade, happily and enthusiastically broke into this song:
Oh, Lordy, gonna pick a bale of cotton.
Oh, Lordy, gonna pick a bale a day.
Oh, Lordy, gonna pick a bale of cotton.
Oh, Lordy, gonna pick a bale a day.
Jump down, spin around, pick a bale of cotton.
Jump down, spin around, pick a bale a day.
Jump down, spin around, pick a bale of cotton.
Jump down, spin around, pick a bale a day.
All while putting his thumbs to his chest and turning them outward, which looked to me like he was hooking imaginary suspenders.
Why did this bother me? Well, here's my son:
More ...
Read More