Lonely on Facebook

My daughter put me on facebook about a week ago. Now, I have a hard time keeping up with this blog, emails and even personal calls to family and friends, and knew I would never keep up with what's going on facebook either. The strange thing about the facebook is everytime someone posts a comment on your page it comes thru the email also.

What I absolutely don't like about facebook is having to ask people to be your friend. I'm sure most of these people didn't care what I did last night or what I had for dinner or what I may or may not be allergic to. I did get in touch with my cousin in New York....that was fun so I guess it was worth it in the end.

One summer I found a friend at my grandmother's. A little girl my own age. Only problem was she was the daughter of one of the families who worked for my uncle. I don't know if sharecropper is the correct term or not, but they had a house (tiny frame shack) down the road from the "big house" and helped barn tobacco.
I remember we were playing as two little girls would, running around the farm, riding bikes and laughing. We both had to go to the bathroom, and since we had a "two seater" I said come on we can go together. My grandmother must have been watching from the window, because no sooner had my hand touched the door of the outhouse she screamed.."don't let that ..... go in there, tell her to go in the woods". I couldn't believe what I was hearing, more that I didn't understand what I was hearing. I was young and had no concept of different skin color. All I knew is that I had a friend. We decided to go to her house down the road. I remember it was small and hot and we were playing and jumping on her bed when out of nowhere came my brother. He told me I had to go home.
As we walked down the road to my grandmother's house he kept taunting me that grandma was mad at me and she was going to whip me. I asked him what I had done but all he could say was she's mad and you're going to get it. Now, that leather strap hanging in the kitchen was not just for show or to sharpen my uncle's straight razor. When we walked inside my grandmother was angry and said that I was not to go into that little girl's house again and what would my mother think if she knew I was down there playing.
We didn't play much after that. I'm sure her mother explained the facts of life to her.
We would often take the train from Richmond to Rocky Mount and when we got off the train the shopkeepers' signs pretty much told it all. "White Only" "No Coloreds" I didn't understand those signs either til much later.