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Looking out my Backdoor: The wiley side-hill gougers

 

January 30, 2020



My first husband was quite the — uh — storyteller. Some of you knew Harvey and can verify my statement. Some of his stories even had elements of truth. Others were pure fabrication, even when they sounded verifiable.

I was 18 when we married. A naïve 18. This was back in the day when the farthest most people ventured from home was the county seat for official business. Worldly, I was not.

I was well-read. However, the majority of books available to me in our little library in Harlem were Victorian literature. Sir Walter Scott was one of my favorite heroes. I tended toward a romanti...



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