I'm Major Jackson and this is the slowdown.

Growing up, I was that kid who put off going straight home after school.

And St. Elizabeth's elementary school day ended.

I went to the Cecil B. Moore branch of the free library of Philadelphia.

It's still there.

I recently drove by and it seemed so tiny after all these years.

Back then, I loved the airiness, the formality and orderliness of the space so different

from my home.

A touted mosaic greeted everyone who walked through its glass doors.

If I close my eyes and concentrate, I can smell the books, see the wooden carols and card

catalog files, and of course, recall the kind librarians who set as if one thrones

behind the circulation desk.

I can see schoolmates with older siblings doing homework together, head to head.

I delayed going home because my parents argued and yelled and sometimes became physical.

Those days of shouting shaped me as did my neighborhood where conflict was settled

violently.

Often, some family members were at the center of it, which pushed me in the other direction

to be quiet and non-confrontational.

I could not have felt any more different from my immediate and extended family.

But we were family, still.

And we were inclined to protect and look out for each other, which I appreciated.

I was a target for anyone who wanted to find someone to bully.

...