“Finally one afternoon he came by where she was selling church dinners and asked Ma, ‘Do you go to the movies?’
‘Yeah’ she said. ‘But I got eight kids and they go to the movies too.’
‘You got enough for a baseball team,’ he said.
He married her and made the baseball team his own, adding four more kids to make it an even twelve. He made no separation between the McBride and the Jordan children, and my siblings and I never thought of or referred to each other as half brothers and half sisters…”
“I myself had no idea who I was. I loved my mother yet looked nothing like her. Neither did I look like the role models in my life—my stepfather, my godparents, other relatives—all of whom were black. And they looked nothing like the other heroes I saw, the guys in the movies, white men like Steve McQueen and Paul Newman who beat the bad guys and in the end got the pretty girl—who, incidentally, was always white.”