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The Monday Morning Memo

In 1955, a young man from Chicago was visiting his cousins in Money, Mississippi. He went to the corner grocery store, bought some Bazooka Joe bubblegum, and dropped the money directly into the hand of the white lady behind the counter instead of laying it on the counter for her to pick up. He died for that. Today I saw a fascinating 15-second aerial video of that grocery store.  It was sobering, captivating, and haunting.

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Random Quote:

“…He had decided that the German retreat across the Ruhr meant the war was over, and he was not interested in counter-argument. He dismissed Diddens’s halfhearted insistence that in fact they were still enemies, saying he could not speak for Diddens but that a priest could not have enemies any more than a hog butcher could be a vegetarian.

He had gone half the distance to the gate of the churchyard when he seemed to remember something, a possible difficulty. He turned back to the jeep, considering the three Americans. He pointed to my grandfather. ‘You will find a shovel in the toolshed,’ he said. ‘An excellent shovel with long experience.’…”

- Michael Chabon, Moonglow, p. 142. Chabon is one of those authors where you can turn to a page at random and immediately begin reading passages like this. Which is, in fact, what I did. - RHW

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