One of my father’s best friends was his roommate John Forester. John was one of my dad’s pall bearers and cried like a baby through the whole service. It broke my heart even more.
John used to be in the Negro Baseball League. He told us stories about his team traveling through the south in their bus. It could be scary, but there were funny moments.
There was sign at one small town that read, “If you’re a nigger, get out of town. If you can’t read this, get out of town anyway.”