I was playing Scott's song from his MP3 website for Mom to hear because she's a captive audience here. I played 151 and Kathy, which are just two of my favorite songs of his, (please go to his journal if you haven't already, and then click the link to his MP3 site,) and Mom said,
"Oh, he's trying to talk coloured."
"Oh my God, Mom, I can't believe you just said that!"
"Well, I don't mean anything by it, should I have said black?"
"He's not trying to sound like anything, that's just his voice."
"Well, I'm just trying to say it's a good thing, because if he sounds buhllllack he'll sell more records."
Last night she went off again about Jews in the media.
It's so upsetting because this is MY MOTHER, but I try to make myself feel a bit better by remembering that she's eighty-four and is so stuck in the forties and fifties, she's just too brainwashed and set in her conservative thought patterns to change. Maybe I'm just making excuses for her.
She's like a little conservative wind up doll. You pull the string in her back and she says, "Blah blah blah communists, blah blah blah Nixon, blah blah blah the coloureds will riot in the streets and take our houses away from us, you watch we'll all be living like communists, they'll put five families in this one house and all we'll have to live in will be the bathroom."
I think she doesn't mean to be racist, but the word coloured just makes me shivver and think of Natchez Mississippi in the 1950s.