My mother's mother, Beady Davis Howell, was the granddaughter of slaves and the daughter of sharecroppers. They lived in the area that is now known as Goldsboro, North Carolina. My grandmother, a beautiful woman, who had she been born a few decades later would have been sought after by the fashion magazines and the top model agencies.

She was slim, tall, had high cheek bones and was a very fashionable woman. My grandmother made a living from picking cotton and tobacco when she was younger. And then, during the  time I knew her, she made a living by taking in washing and cleaning other people's homes. I don't remember having long conversations with my grandmother . . .

My grandmother's funeral would have been normal if the woman driving the car we were in had not burped.