the curse of being white
The other day I was sent on a call to a place called Rosebuds BBQ. It is in capital heights, right ont he border with south east DC. In fact I saw a bike cop checking out all the black youths hanging around on every corner. Here's the thing, the store is the center of the neighborhood, and the food is unbelievably good. I think it might be th ebest BBQ this side of richmond. I loved working there, hanging out with the old guys, the lady who owns it, and the younger guys clsoer to my age. They didnt seem to care that I was white, or even jewish. We had a good time exchaning words under copyright. I gave them shmutz and they gave me something but I cant remember what it it. We had a good time at the end playing blues, one of the old guys there was a harp player too. The place is a real success story, starting out of selling the food off the back of a truck mounted smoker, to a full catering business and caryout joint. I plan to go back there next tuseday to fix things and then all the time after that. I realized I was born the wrong color and age.