Both of my parents were incredible storytellers.
My mom spins parables, wringing insightful meaning from the most mundane circumstances.
My dad was a fantasist who never let the truth get in the way of a good story. I loved the tales he told but I took them with a grain of salt.
So when he asserted that “You know that the Lone Ranger was a Black man, right?” I rolled my eyes.
Even though I’ve known about Bass Reeves for a while now, if he were still alive I’m sure he’d jab me with, “You didn’t believe me but you believe the white lady” upon seeing this post:
Snollygoster 