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Good morning. I heard that the men coming to visit were black. I was about two and a quarter then, a time in life when quarters mean so much. I was also shuffling around on my bottom as I had still not learned to walk. <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

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My father was explaining to us all, a young family of four, how we had to be on our best behaviour and help our Mammy. When my father came home from work that evening he was bringing two guests from Nigeria.

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As the day progressed the tension in the house mounted. My mother wanted everything to be clean, neat, and proper. Her four children wanted food, play, and attention. My poor mother’s nerves were torn to shreds. Stuck on my bottom, I was the most useless member of the tribe on this day as the house buzzed around me.

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And then a commotion outside as the whole street in our small Irish town turned out to look at the black men – a very new phenomenon. The front door opened and there were voices in the hall, deep men’s voices. My mother did a quick sweep, adjusted everything she could, and gave us all the if-you-embarrass-me-now look. I sat facing the door and two very tall, very black men walked in, and I projectile vomited. I missed, my mother freaked, my father smiled, the black men laughed, and I cried.

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Its a true story of a day in the life, it could have been anyone’s life, with the circumstances, characters, and relationships which make some outcomes inevitable. Like so many days, there was no right or wrong. All I know, Lord, is that every day we play our small parts in life's drama, to claps & boos. I pray that today I may perform well, and if not that I may learn well for tomorrow. Hare Krishna