We went through your things, Momma, and put on the dresses you never wore, the dresses the rich white folks gave you. And then we went outside to play. The people laughed at us when we went outside in your dresses, pointed and slapped their legs. We never played so good as we played that summer, with all those people watching us. when we came off the porch those Negro doctors and lawyers and teachers waiting to get into White's Eat Shop across the street would nudge each other and turn their heads. And when the streetcar stopped on the corner, right in the front of our house, the people would lean out the windows and stare. Presley and I would wave at them. We did it all that summer, and after a while nobody bothered us. Everybody got to know that the Gregory boys didn'thave clothes so they wore their mother's dresses.
