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We Eloped from I am a Dirty Immigrant

Let’s backtrack a little and let me tell you how I met The Coal Miner’s Daughter in early September nineteen eighty-six. I was sitting outside the student centre, homesick and unhappy, when she walked by with two of her friends. I started talking to them. Well, I was talking to her friends; she stood there saying nothing. Just before they left I asked her why she was so quiet. She responded, but to tell you the truth, I barely heard what she said. I somehow suggested that we hang out and to my surprise the next night she showed up at the student centre. I was sitting there surrounded by women, none of which I knew. Bloody women were like vultures when it came to ballplayers. She sat for a while but did not say much, then suddenly got up and said she was going for a walk. It was dark out so I suggested that I go with her and that was the beginning of a long friendship.

She had dark brown hair, brown eyes, caramel complexion and a beautiful smile. Quite frankly, she had an island personality so I immediately felt comfortable with her. The first time we kissed was in front of the little chapel in the middle of the campus. I remember her looking shocked and then said, “Look what you went and done.” We were inseparable from that day. She always found a way to make me laugh. She was and still is a good person. Our wedding was completely crazy. No one knew about it but my friend from Ethiopia and another friend from Zambia who brought her best friend who now hates me I guess because I am so bloody good looking.

We left the campus and drove three hours to Richmond in The Blue Grass City. When we got to the courthouse I was told I had to have identification, so we drove the three hours back to the school and low and behold the bloody car broke down. We borrowed my friend’s car and drove the three hours back to Richmond. We got married at the house of a preacher, an older black man, with his aging mother in attendance. When all was done we drove back to the school, I went to the gym and got dressed for a ball game. I played the game and afterwards I saw her for about ten minutes, then went to my dorm. Yes my friend I spent my wedding night sleeping on the top of a bunk bed that was about five inches too short for me.  

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

Culture Shock, Not Mine From Im am A Dirty Immigrant

Anyway, The Melting Pot City was day as much as The Blue Grass City was night. It was The Coal Miner’s Daughter’s turn to face some culture shock. She was the only white person for blocks. Now let’s take into consideration that I was the first black person she had ever spoken to. Luckily for us, the people on our block thought she was Puerto Rican. She was tanned and had dark hair and eyes. That was fine with me because at the time, racial tensions were running a little high in the city. To my surprise, this great melting pot city was segmented into different ethnicities. I remember one night we got lost. Believe me, when you are new to the city, it’s no fun. The way we found out we were going in the wrong direction was when we saw a white kid walking down the street holding a boom box, his baseball hat backwards and his head bobbing awkwardly. We turned around right away and drove for a few blocks until we saw black faces.  

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

The Coal Miner’s Daughter(Eloping) From I am a Dirty Immigrant

Let’s backtrack a little and let me tell you how I met The Coal Miner’s Daughter in early September nineteen eighty-six. I was sitting outside the student centre, homesick and unhappy, when she walked by with two of her friends. I started talking to them. Well, I was talking to her friends; she stood there saying nothing. Just before they left I asked her why she was so quiet. She responded, but to tell you the truth, I barely heard what she said. I somehow suggested that we hang out and to my surprise thenext night she showed up at the student centre. I was sitting there surrounded by women, none of which I knew. Bloody women were like vultures when it came to ballplayers. She sat for a while but did not say much, then suddenly got up and said she was going for a walk. It was dark out so I suggested that I go with her and that was the beginning of a long friendship.

She had dark brown hair, brown eyes, caramel complexion and a beautiful smile. Quite frankly, she had an island personality so I immediately felt comfortable with her. The first time we kissed was in front of the little chapel in the middle of the campus. I remember her looking shocked and then said, “Look what you went and done.” We were inseparable from that day. She always found a way to make me laugh. She was and still is a good person. Our wedding was completely crazy. No one knew about it but my friend from Ethiopia and another friend from Zambia who brought her best friend who now hates me I guess because I am so bloody good looking.

We left the campus and drove three hours to Richmond in The Blue Grass City. When we got to the courthouse I was told I had to have identification, so we drove the three hours back to the school and low and behold the bloody car broke down. We borrowed my friend’s car and drove the three hours back to Richmond. We got married at the house of a preacher, an older black man, with his aging mother in attendance. When all was done we drove back to the school, I went to the gym and got dressed for a ball game. I played the game and afterwards I saw her for about ten minutes, then went to my dorm. Yes my friend I spent my wedding night sleeping on the top of a bunk bed that was about five inches too short for me.  

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

The Brothers From the novel I am a Dirty Immigrant

Let me tell you about some of the encounters I had with the brothers. Though not as negatively profound, there still was an attitude of “you are not one of us”. One thing I learned real quick is that if a black man dates a white woman, some black men assume she is a “brother lover” so they did everything to conquer her.

In the fall of nineteen eighty-six, The Coal Miner’s Daughter and I were standing in line at the cafeteria of the school. One of the football players, Specs I will call him, decided to “Mac” on her. I guess he thought there was no better time to try. Hell, I was standing right there, so I guess he was trying to make a fool of me because he occasionally turned to his jock buddies laughing. They wanted to teach the immigrant how it was done. The second time he turned to his friends, The Coal Miner’s Daughter handed me the tray and walked off. He stopped talking to his friends turned around with this stupid grin on his face. “What time you want me to ……….,” he asked as he turned around and stopped dead in his tracks when he realized he was talking to my chest. I could see the disappointment in his eyes when he he saw that he was not looking into the chest he wanted to. “Is seven good for you?” I asked, then blew him a kiss. His glasses almost fell off his face as laughter filled the cafeteria as his friends dogged him.

I was called every name in the book by some of these gentlemen. African booty scratcher, dirty Jamaican, starving Ethiopian – of course none of the above applied because I am a frigging Spice Islander. I was not mad about the way they treated me. I knew that people who felt like they were being oppressed usually deflected their lack of security on others; been there, done that. Now you may derive from my tone that I am a little perturbed with the brothers. Well to a certain degree I am. Where the hell were they when a white president ordered the invasion of a black nation? Did they take to the streets? Did they express solidarity? As a matter of fact the army that invaded the island was sixty percent black. Now there is a perfect example of keeping people separated by culture. The only brother that showed interest in our plight was Harry Belafonte. Thank you my friend; it was the humane thing to do.  

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

The Coal Miner’s Daughter (From the novel I am a Dirty Immigrant) last day free use code KC63J

The Coal Miner’s Daughter had dark brown hair brown eyes, caramel complexion and a beautiful smile. Quite frankly, she had an island personality, so I immediately felt comfortable with her. The first time we kissed was in front of the little chapel in the middle of the campus. I remember her looking shocked and then saying, “Look what you went and done.”  We were inseparable from that day. She always found a way to make me laugh. She was and still is a good person. Our wedding was completely crazy. No one knew about it but my friend from Ethiopia and another friend from Zambia who was with her best friend, who now hates me, I guess because I am so bloody good looking. We left the campus and drove three hours to Richmond, Kentucky: The Blue Grass City. When we got to the courthouse I was told I had to have identification, so we drove the three hours back to the school and low and behold the bloody car broke down. We borrowed my friend’s car and drove the three hours back to Richmond. We got married at the house of a preacher, an older black man, with his aging mother in attendance. When all was done we drove back to the school, I went to the gym and got dressed for a ball game and then I played the game. Afterwards, I saw her for about ten minutes, then I went to my dorm. Yes my friend, I spent my wedding night sleeping on the top of a bunk bed that was about five inches too short for me. 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/344979

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

The Coal Miner’s Daughter (From the novel “I am a Dirty Immigrant”)

Jenny had dark brown hair brown eyes, caramel complexion and a beautiful smile quite frankly, she had an island personality so I immediately felt comfortable with her. The first time we kissed was in front of the little chapel in the middle of the campus. I remember her looking shocked and then said, “Look what you went and done.” We were inseparable from that day, she always found a way to make …me laugh, she was and still is a good person. Our wedding was completely crazy, no one knew about it but my friend from Ethiopia and another friend from Zambia and her best friend, who now hates me, I guess because I am so bloody good looking, was also there. We left the campus and drove three hours to Richmond Kentucky. When we got to the courthouse I was told I had to have identification, so we drove the three hours back to the school and low and behold the bloody car broke down. We borrowed my friend’s car and drove the three hours back to Richmond. We got married at the house of a preacher, an older black man with his aging mother in attendance. When all was done we drove back to the school, I went to the gym and got dressed for a ball game, I played the game and after I saw her for about ten minutes then went to my dorm. Yes my friend I spent my wedding night sleeping on the top of a bunk bed that was about five inches too short for me.