Chapter Six

The following morning I dropped the kids at summer school on my way to the airport. Jannie is eight; Damon just turned ten. They're really good kids, but they're kids. You give them a tiny advantage, they take a lot, and then they take a little more. Someone, I don't remember who, said that'American children suffer too much mother and too little father.' With my kids, it's been the exact opposite.

'I could get used to this,'Jannie said as we pulled up in front of the Sojoumer Truth School. Helen Folasade Adu - Sade - was singing softly on the CD. Very nice.

'Don't get used to it. It's a five-block walk from our house to school. When I was a little boy in North Carolina, I used to walk five miles through tobacco fields to school.'

'Yeah, right,' Damon scoffed. 'You forgot that you used to walk barefoot. Left that part out.'

'I did. Thanks for reminding me. I used to walk barefoot through those nasty tobacco fields to school.' The kids laughed and so did I. They're usually good to be around, and I'm always videotaping them. I do it in the hopes that I'll have nice movies to watch when the two of them go bad in their teenage years. Also, I'm afraid I might get CRS someday - the can't remember shit disease. It's going around.

'I have a big concert on Saturday,'Damon reminded me. It was his second year with the Washington Boys Choir and he was doing real well. He was going to be the next Luther Vandross, or Al Green, or maybe he was just going to be Damon Cross.

'I'll be home by Saturday, Damon. Trust me, I wouldn't miss your concert.'

'You missed quite a few already,' he said. It was a sharp little dig. 'That was the old me. This is the new and improved Alex. I've also attended several of your concerts.'