The more I witness the vast gap between how some folks live in this country, the more I am grateful that I grew up in North Philadelphia with a strong father, mother and family.
We sang with a muscled verve never to be denied. It thumped through the small Oakland house like the drums of an anthem-and in a way it was. The song was "The Three Caballeros," and we were three indeed, a soldier and two Marines, and we were brothers. We sang it on Thanksgiving Day.
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