We didn't watch a lot of Good Times in the 1970's because my mom didn't approve of the way it portrayed black families as poor, uneducated and living in substandard housing. But for whatever reason, we did watch the episode when James Evans, the family patriarch, died. His wife Florida, true to the strong black woman trope, unflinchingly carried on with life. No tears, only work and shouldering the burden of children in mourning over the loss of their father. Until...until she broke. She broke not in tears, but in anger. I was too young to understand the many layers of Florida's anger bursting through the screen that night, but I could feel it; and I can still feel it even now, some forty-odd years later. Today, I felt Florida's anger when I heard that Prince died. It came to me as an overheard byline while I was about to scoop up the salad I brought for lunch. Internally, I broke down like Florida: "Damn, Damn, Damn!!" Bu...
Finding out everyday that sometimes, late is right on time.