Mississippi 1950's, where I was living

(excerpt from chapter 4 of

King of Soul)

By 'n by many of the black folks down south, inspired by the legality of recent innovative challenges, got busy as bees while the whites, unfortunately, got mad as hornets. But the times they were sho'nuff a'changin'.

Heretofore, the sleepy ole antebellum way of honky life would lay low and submit to a new master, whose visage was was darker, with features more universal and inclusive, and whose newly renovated integrity would ultimately endow the good old boys and gals with a rectified blend of African charm, and a revolutionary new testament of grace. But the racist honkies had not yet figured this part out, so they were in for a long, hard lesson. Black folks knew the lesson would be hard, because they'd been living it for over 200 years, but it took them awhile to figure just how stubborn and contrary the whites could be when they got that deer-in-the-headlights look in their eyes. But that's neither here nor there. Things got serious after Brother Medgar Evers was assassinated in his own front yard.  King of Soul