My life after foster care

JEANETTE RICHARDSON

Artist/Vendor

I would like to share a story about my dark past life when I was a foster child and afterward, and being in and out of problems.

Nobody really cared about me. The government markets Black children when their parents reject them. Foster parents only care about the checks they get from the government to take care of them.

I came back to D.C. after high school and our parents were not there, so I stayed with my sister and her boyfriend. I found a job at a family health food store. It was a nice area to work and the people were nice. Then I started meeting people and also meeting male companions. We dated for a little while, but I found out they were married and that’s not right to do. You are not supposed to do that, because God commanded it as a law of righteousness of everlasting life — thou shall not commit adultery.

LATICIA BROCK

Artist/Vendor

I want to take your life. I’m not your friend. Why would your brother give you something when I might want to see you again this weekend?

I’ve counted over 50 ambulances. Every time I turn around, you’re taking what’s mine. I’ll take your shoes off your feet to sell and leave you with socks. As soon as you sleep I’ll empty your pockets.

Dog, I thought you were my man, fifty grand — I know you overdosed but I’ll sell you Fentanyl again. I’ll take your shoes and all your clothes.

Mr. Fentanyl meets an overdose.

To my wife Rosé.

Lefty and I slid out of the Childe Harold, he bought a pint of his favorite Old Grand-Dad at the all night liquor shop off Dupont Circle. Finally, my permissive 22-year old self let Lefty drive the Chevy back to the Hotel Brighton up the hill. “Stop, John,” the meister commanded. “I have to meditate.” At dawn, Lefty opened the side door, nodded silently, and disappeared into the hotel. Needless to say, I ran off six months later and temporarily joined Lefty’s southside Chicago circus.

A word of clarification: with my Mom and Dad’s blessing, I roomed on South Greenwood, hosted by Koko Taylor’s drummer Vincent, got baptized in olive oil at his mother’s church, and helped Lefty emcee at the Chocker Board Lounge on South 43rd Street (with “Sleigh Ride” by Lloyd Glenn on the house juke box).

P.S. My Japanese-made Teisco solid body guitar was never far from my side.

ROCHELLE WALKER Artist/Vendor

M is for all men.

E is for the Earth we stand on.

M is for all the memories of soldiers.

O is for all over the freedom we know.

R is for all the races brought to us long, long ago.

I is for inner peace.

A is for all those who sacrifice their lives

L is for fighting on foreign lands.

D is for Memorial Day — it’s a day of honor.

A is for all who are going to fight in a war and die for all.

Y is you, me and us, remembering all who serve.

Happy Memorial Day!

MELODY BYRD Artist/Vendor

Memorial Day is a celebration. Many people come to a safe place and there are big crowds. It’s a nice day.