Time for You and MeThe taunts from neighbors hurt more than the reality that this was his third emergency move in six years because he didn’t fit. The chants of “troublemaker” and “you never should have come here” cut deeply, but “you don’t belong here—go back to your people” stung the most. Who are my people? I thought I found them in Greenwood. Jimmy picked up the framed poem he wrote in college and recited it out loud,
Life in the Middle, by James Montgomery III
My father died in a penthouse.
My mother lives in a shack.
Can I live in the middle?
I’m neither White nor Black.
He placed the frame in the trunk and sat down on his couch with his shoulders slumped. Eventually, he dozed off, thinking about Dorothy Montgomery, classmate John Anderson from Columbia, the Southern professor
