One Sunday afternoon in the mid 1970's my crazy aunt forced all us kids into her station wagon and drove us up to Harlan, Kentucky so that we could meet some distant relatives of hers who had the misfortune of living in that hell hole. On the way up there her son, Cousin Psycho, said, "I don't want to go to Harlan." His mother screeched, "Why not honey?" He said in all the seriousness his small violence addled brain could muster, "I don't wanna go there because there's too many black people there."
I started laughing. I said to him, "You're thinking of Harlem. There aren't many, if any, black people in Harlan."
Of course he punched me and said, "Shut up queery. You're not as smart as you think you are." And then he punched me again.
His mother then told me to stop 'causing trouble,' and to leave her son alone.
To this day I have never been back to Harlan.
11 comments:
You should write a book or a comic about that childhood. Might be cathartic.
I've heard lots of songs about going to Harlan. Makes me not want to go there. I'm kind of afraid to be around too many white people at once.
Ah, childhood memories.
I agree: Write a book, Dr.!
Don't worry, the marshal from Justified is taking care of it. And by the looks of it, you didn't miss anything
You should have said you didn't want to go because there were too many banjo players there.
I hate Cousin Psycho. What a dork.
Was he calling you queery because you asked so many questions?
He called me 'queery,' 'queer,' 'faggy,' and 'fag' all the while we lived in the same house because I was 'book smart.' He hated people who were 'book smart' XUP.
So, I guess the song isn't true....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uv3CW41CMu0
you did leave Harlan alive.
Canadian version:
Goin' Back to Harlan
as sung by Emmylou Harris.
Yeah, but how many times have you been back to Harlem?
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