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Crooked Hearts in the 'Hood

My baby sister and her husband live in the ‘hood, that area off of Pike Avenue in North Little Rock, Arkansas, where the pizza man won’t deliver. The ‘hood is believed to be overrun with criminals, drug addicts, and illegitimate families (whatever that is). My sister isn’t a criminal, or a drug addict, and I’m certain our parents were married when she was conceived. She doesn’t fit the stereotype, but she is usually treated by the authorities as though she is all of the above. She and her husband, like many others in the ‘hood, are hardworking people who are just trying to live their lives in peace.             Recently some really nice people came from a local church to conduct a clean-up project. They got some positive publicity about their good deed in the newspaper. My sister said she watched an armed policeman patrol on foot around the block before the church members got out of their cars. He didn’t find it necessary to shoot anyone. She and her husband chatted with them and thanked them for what they were doing. One lady told her that she was thinking about investing in the area, buying some houses, and cleaning them up. Wonderful!            My sister walked to her back yard and was briefly out of sight. She overheard one gentleman say to another: “I don’t know why we’re down here. It’s just a bunch of n****** and white trash.” Geez. Guess the gentleman didn’t realize that when he walks out of his church, he is the church.             My baby sister, being much more charitable than I am, wrote a nice thank you letter to them. I wrote a letter to the editor of the local paper who gave them all of the nice publicity.