“We never had a chance, man, never. Not to this day. We were pickers, man. My grandmother, my aunts, my uncles . . . We only earned a little over fifty dollars in a whole year. That’s how it was, in the forties.” Dad whistles, shakes his head, and looks at me. “You see, Jason, fifty fucking dollars . . . If that ain’t slavery, I don’t know what is.”
