There was a party, just a bloody knife hanging from the man's arm, eye level, His Mom and Dad were holding hands, running.  Three years old child, in Brooklyn.  This memory stands, forty years later.

He is stetted behind a pegboard desk in the middle of a furniture less living room, his lives on 41 Bartlett Street, Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and his neighbor Mrs. Ashell lives nearby, and his Dad is walking in with a roll of linoleum.  A three year olds memory of affluence: but a step up from the storefront flat.

He is walking from Bartlett to Jogn Lee's hand laundry, but alone.  He is about four rears old.  He is walking from Bartlett to somewhere near the Myrtle Ave el.  He was the shortest person on the street corners.  He was the only one eating for the light to turn green.  He can't recall of anyone asking where his Mommy is.

Pg. 201 An American of Color.
IF I the mode of entering is voluntary, then it shouldn't be that great enough because its a threat to a group of people the majority.  My race should become a factor, and the numbers can be legally controlled by the man.

Minorities are more looked down because of their color of their skins.  In which some have grown up in towns were they have been looked down or not acknowledged at all.  This story is talking about a boy that had troubles in Brooklyn a city in New York.  He was an "A" student, he talks about languages.  They are not American but no Puerto Ricans their because of the color and not growing up in there on area.