How and why I choose my reading material can be pretty random. In this case, I had a line in my 1978-era novel about gangs, and while editing it I suddenly wasn’t sure when “modern” gangs became active. This query led, as most lazy queries do, to Google and then on to good old Wikipedia. Which led me to an autobiography written by one of the co-founders of the Crips.

Tookie Williams’s book is a damn entertaining read. I’m only 50 pages or so into it, but I look forward to diving back in tonight. His description of public school as an intelligent, incorrigible black male in South Central sounds nothing at all like my own experience as an intelligent, bookish white chick. And while I keep coming across anecdotes that strike me as far-fetched, I have to remember that eastern Long Island ain’t exactly a hotbed of universality.

The part that struck me the hardest, though? Tookie’s description of his grandmother, who at 5′0″  weighed “around 90 pounds.” Yep. I’m reading about the birth of the Crips and the part that keeps me up at night is a throwaway line about the family matriarch.  How is it frigging possible, I want to know, that I’m nearly ten pounds heavier than a Louisiana native who consumed gumbo and sweet potato pie on a regular basis?

This woman endured unspeakable racial prejudices, growing up in the deep south.  Her grandson was put to death in 2005. But I would still consider trading places for that ten pounds worth of sweet potato pie.

Guess my own dys-education is showing.

Sorry, Tookie. I’ll pay closer attention to the meaningful stuff when you start brandishing handguns….