Malcom
I just found out yesterday that my friend Malcom died in July 29th. And I found out that he had a memorial service the day before that. He always wore a barret and sat in his wheel chair. He had one and a half legs. He was born in 1947 and fought for his rights in the Black Panther movement and was a union organizer. Nearly every day I would see him, and he would ask, "How you doin' darlin?" And we would tell eachother how our lives were going that day. For Christmas I gave him a nice blanket, but it was stolen two days later. I didn't give him another one. Instead I left the country. We were planning to do a performance when I got back. I bought him burritos for lunch a lot, and we always made plans to have lunch so I could hear his story, but we never got around to it. His brother, "Jokey Man," told me that he died. He said that he couldn't tell jokes for a whole week, but he's pulling through now. I am so sad that I never got to hear his story. I was so excited to see him when I got home, and now I miss him still. I'll never forget you Malcom.