Daddy Registered Republican in 1931 ,
but I learned about politics the year Mother called Mamie Eisenhower a frump . “ The papers can say whatever they want ,” she said , “ but those silly bangs and her stupid hat don ’ t do it for me .” ( She said this as she crushed my shoulders between her knees , hot-combing my kinky school- girl bangs .) “ Didn ’ t her husband have an affair during the war ?” I took it as a sign that Republicans should not be living in the White House .
At first , Daddy , immersed in the copy of Life magazine I ’ d seen him linger over more than once in the last six months , didn ’ t respond . On its cover , a snapshot of the first Negro woman ever to appear there — Dorothy Dandridge — one bronze shoulder exposed , a red rose high-lighting her hair , a smile that made men . “ I agree ,” was Daddy ’ s peculiar reply , “ Dorothy is one god-damned fine-looking woman .”
© 2017 Lynne Thompson
My Life According to Brenda M . Osbey
Made of dry rot and tenpenny nails pressing roots of ginger underfoot on my daddy ’ s land
My grandmother dead and buried flowers on the altars cinnamon out the back door
I could tell you they died one after the other and a longer time no one will speak of
I sit on my front porch into the night The night a bastard gleaming
© 2017 Lynne Thompson
24 african Voices