There was a time in Louisville, Kentucky when black people drank hard liquor out of glasses with ice, not red SOLO dixie cups, in the middle of the day. That was the last place I heard jazz being played loudly out of someone's house for the whole neighborhood. No objections. neighbor
neighbor
It was the transition between spring and summer. Weather sublime. I was there to help retrieve a 1989 Ford Taurus, then close to being a new car. neighbor
neighbor
The only thing louder that day was a glass, screened door slamming shut because of a domestic dispute. neighbor
neighbor
The old stomping grounds of Cassius Clay were a huge mix of military families who did not get along, displaced Honda and Ford workers with too much time on their hands and one belligerent neighbor who blasted Miles Davis in the middle of the day, instead of mumble rap. This was long before mumble rap. neighbor
neighbor
The experience felt like Spring cleaning, too cold yet for mosquitos to fly in, breath of fresh air with plenty tree coverage and no one having that common 'I heard that song before,' feeling because no one had heard that song before.