ALVIN S. SIMPLETON IS A HAPPY MAN

“Today is a glorious day for old Alvin,” said Alvin referring to himself in the third person.

“Did you win the lottery,” asked Leroy.

“No, I did not win the lottery, Obama did,” crowed Alvin.

“Alvin,” said Jabo, “you were for McCain, so how come now you a Obama man?”

“Yeah, Alvin,” I added, “how come you jumping on the bandwagon?”

“Look here, you turkeys, am I not black? His winnin makes me a part of a histrionic event.”

“You mean historic,” I corrected.

“Whatever. You’ll member when we were in school, our teachers taught us we could do anything but we would have be twice as good and try twice as hard as the white folks. Now, grant you they would’ve never encouraged us to try to become the president of these United States, but they pushed us,” Alvin was on a roll.

“Well, Obama spent more money than Clinton or McCain and for almost two years, he tried damn hard to attract voters of all nationalities and races. I tell you the boy is good.”

“I feels kinds good, myself,” Leroy said.

“Yeah, Alvin, you gotta point. No matter who we were for, for us, it is truly a historical moment.” Jabo tried to sound profound.

I added my dime’s worth: “I thought it wouldn’t happen in my life time, I surely did.”

Alvin puffed out his chest. “Ain’t this a great country or what, huh? Now little black boys and girls—are we still calling ourselves black—any way little African American boys and girls can now dream of being president of the United States of America. Ain’t that something.”

Leroy got in the last word. “Lord, God almighty is surely smilin on us black folks today.”

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