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Article: The River Jericho. (short story)
- Article from:
- African American Review
- Article date:
- September 22, 1994
- Author:
CopyrightCOPYRIGHT 1994 African American Review. This material is published under license from the publisher through the Gale Group, Farmington Hills, Michigan. All inquiries regarding rights should be directed to the Gale Group. (Hide copyright information)
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"I remember this river," the old man began most of his stories. His hand, blackened by the Jericho sun, would be raised above his brow to shield his eyes. "It cuts through these hills like the smooth strokes of a swimmer and splinters off like them tiny veins on the back of your hand. Lord, I remember this river." He'd lower his hand and look down at me to see if I was paying attention. At ten, I was much too young to comprehend the significance of anything my grandfather said, but I liked to hear him talk. His stories, his voice, gave me a sense of security in an otherwise confusing world.
In the summer of 1950, my father sent me down to Jericho from ...