I thought I’d drop in with a short story that made me smile – as most of y’all know, my cousin was friends with Joey and dated him for a few years, so when he was in town, he’d come by the house to say hi. Yesterday morning, in the kitchen, my grandmother said, “That’s such a shame about Joey, he was so young – what was his last name?”
“Ramone,” I said.
“Yes, ” she said, “Joey Ramone. He was a nice boy.”
And that made me smile. It’s nice to know that there are people who just miss that nice boy from New York – the one who didn’t expect sugar to automatically be in the tea, and didn’t like to go in the backyard because there might be who-knows-what hiding in the grass.
by Kenyata Sullivan
