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  • It was a sweltering summer day, the kind that you stumble upon in 'anywhere USA' where winding roads wave from the distance with rising cloaks of heat, and even the bumble bees try and find some place to hide before they cinge their wings. The sprinklers were on, and bikes whizzed by with children scented with the unique concoction of sun block, sweat and baby powder. Even more kids were running, tossing balls of all shapes and kinds, or swinging their legs under brightly colored hoola-hoops, when the whiff of something quickly edible and utterly magnificent instantly narrowed the focus of one child in particular.

    As he approached his father's grill he could hear his stomach growl and then tighten into a small knot the size of fist, as he slid his dirt smudged hands into a pristine bag of chewy hotdog buns, and eyed his father with an expectant grin. With little response, his father chuckled, and with his hand lightly caressing his back, he moved him back from the grill and placed a well-deserved hotdog into that newly contaminated bun, leaving him with the first prize of the summer.

    At this age, his immediate thoughts will be ketchup, ketchup and mustard, or ketchup, mustard and relish? However the persistant announcement that he can not read nor understand which is blaring in the background, will change all of that. Accusations that our 'American' president, the son of an African immigrant and a bi-racial upbringing was not and could not be truly 'American' would set him on a different path in the eyes of some.

    He too the son of an African immigrant and Latino mother would also be judged in that moment and possibly for the rest of his life.

    Despite the same childhood and a slightly different experience, he would lick his lips over the same 'hot dogs and apple-pie' only to reach adulthood and discover that through some inconvenient means, that he never knew that he wasn't really 'American'.
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