What's remarkable is that he and I used to sit on his porch for hours and hours, drinking beer, and dreaming of having "a house paid for" and "$50,000 cash in the bank." "If we could just get that," we mused, "we'd be set for life!"
Well fast forward . . . he's got more rent houses than I do and I think most are paid for. I know the cash is no longer the issue, but ironically, we both still "bust our butts" every day at the grind of hard labor! What happened to the dream? Is it deferred? Did it dry up like a raisin in the sun? (Thanks, Lorraine Hansberry.)
I know, I know . . . now you're asking, "who's Lorraine Hansberry?" Well, you may remember a movie made from a Broadway play entitled "A Raisin in the Sun" starring Sidney Poitier which debuted in 1961. Lorraine wrote the stage play.
However, a poem that inspired her was entitled "A Dream Deferred" by Langston Hughes. It inspired me and made me ask the questions so many years ago:
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Pardon me while I get a bit sentimental . . . perhaps at lunch today we'll answer the question . . . or do I already know?
What happened to your dreams from yesteryear? What are they for tomorrow?