Happy New Year!! 🎈🎈
The Friday 56 is a weekly meme hosted over at Freda’s Voice. The rules are simple and go something like this.
1. Grab a book, any book.
2. Turn to page 56 or 56% in your eReader (If you have to improvise, that’s ok.)
3. Find any sentence, (or a few, just don’t spoil it)
4. Post it.
5. Add the post url, not your blog url to the Linky.
6. Tweet it #Friday56 (not an official Freda’s Voice rule)
I don’t usually read memoirs/autobiographies, but this story caught my attention. It’s been in my TBR pile for a couple of years now and since I’m dedicating the first quarter of the year to reading books in the TBR pile with the TBR Tripe Dog Dare, I thought I’d give this one a go.
Synopsis: How can two kids named Wes Moore from similar Baltimore neighborhoods who were fatherless, had difficult childhoods, hung out on street corners, and ran into trouble with the police end up with such different lives? One a Rhodes Scholar, White Fellow, decorated veteran, and businessman and the other serving a life-sentence for murder.
. . . Mayor Schmoke was lambasted for say, “I started to think, maybe we ought to consider this drug problem a public health problem rather than a criminal justice problem.” Most people heard this as a cry for drug legalization in Baltimore. But Schmoke was desperate. He knew that unless someone figure out some way of controlling it, the drug trade – and the epidemics of violent crime and untreated addiction it left in its wake – would stifle any hope for progress in the city. (p. 56)
The boys found a spot under a bridge near the Morgan State University campus. Since Wes had been the one to discover the smoke, he was granted the privilege of the first hit. Wes knew all about week but had never actually tried it. He cautiously put the rolled-up joint to his mouth and inhaled. he broke out into a spastic fit of coughing almost as soon as the joint passed his lips. The older boys laughed. But Wes kept at it. With each inhalation, the smoke passed more easily, and by the third toke, he was taking deep puffs and holding them in his lungs for several seconds before blowing a white cloud back out through his nose and mouth.
But after a few hits, Wes was disappointed. “I don’t see what the big deal is, man.”
“Just wait a little while. You’ll feel it,” Woody said.
The Other Wes Moore: One name Two Fates by Wes Moore