by Alexa Marshall, age 15
( Ft. Washington MD)
Dad-- "D'ya see those balled clouds peaking over those mountains? D'ya understand what yer doin'? This m'boy is beauty; this is your legacy. My grandfather fought to get us here! And like rubbish you're tossen it aside!"
Son-- "This is fer you dad, but it's not fer me. I don't wanna work the dirt. I wanna go some place where they don't look at me like they do! Every where I go I hear 'em whisper savage."
Dad-- "That bother you? Ya ashamed of your mother, boy? You gonna let them steal away yer legacy, 'cause they call ya names? Thought I raised a man."
Son-- "It's not like that! I wanna go some place different and I can get an apprenticeship t' the smithy of a knight! Think of the pounds, you'd never have to worry 'bout those negro runnin' s'called farmers, I could--"
Dad-- "Don't pretend yer doin' this fer me. (Sigh) I raised ya good, on country air, with a clean mind, and God in yer heart, and what do want to do with it? Ya wanna go to London. When you get there, if you make it, ya better remember the names they called ya here cause yer gonna pray for those days, when they're stonin' you in London and I'm not there t' help."
Son-- "If I don't come back, yer gonna be makin' the same mistake you did when mom passed."
Dad-- "I only got one son, you just 'member yer an American and ya got no betters."