BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 28
You may have noticed “the „n‟ word” used above. I‟ll tell you about it from the
point of view prevalent at that time, in the 50s and 60s. Our street was six blocks from
Consumers Power Company, the local utility for gas and all that stuff. That area became
a small population of what were then referred to as “colored people”. That‟s kinda
stupid, since “white” was a color, last time I looked. Almost every house in that area,
three blocks in all directions, was inhabited by those folks.
The first black people who moved in were pretty nice, although I never got to
know anyone too well. Mom wouldn‟t let me go that far from home. Not until I was
around nine or ten. However, after a few years, the quality of people living there went
way downhill.
I‟ve met people all my life who use that phony BS line, “Why some of my best
friends are ________.” Oh, yeah? When‟s the last time you had that person over for
dinner at your house? Went to his/her house? Socialized?
Uh-huh. I thought so. You lying, bigoted bastard.
Well, when I later got to high school, I not only had quite a few black friends I
hung with, I had a few black girlfriends. I‟ve only been able to keep tabs on one of „em.
Her story wasn‟t too pleasant, so I‟ll call her Debbie “Smith”.
She was cute, perky, nice boobs, a round little butt, and very nice legs. She was
also half nuts. She‟d run toward the foyer where we gathered before class each day, drop
to her knees and slide across the lobby. She was a lot of fun, and a great kisser. She was
also very good at more intimate contact, but the details will stay with Debbie and me,
thank you. Unfortunately, she did those things for a living after she was an adult. She
became a crack whore. Her life was on a downward spiral last I heard, quite a few years
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