Yes, a touching mother’s day story for you all. It was 48 years ago, and I was an intern at a big city hospital on rotation in the emergency room. The ER entrance was half a block from an intersection with a bar on each corner. On a Saturday night, we knew better than to try to get some sleep before 2AM or until we’d put in 2 chest tubes (to drain blood from the lungs, which had been shot or stabbed). The bartenders were an intelligent lot — they had to be quick thinking to defuse situations, and we came to know them by name. So it was 3AM 48 years ago and Tyrone was trudging past on his way home, and I was just outside the ER getting some cool night air, things having quieted down.
“Happy Mother’s day, Tyrone” sayeth I
“Thanks Doc, but every day is Mother’s day with me”
“Why, Tyrone?”
“Because every day I get called a mother— “
Chemiotics II 
Comments
Well it’s 48 years later and appalling to see how little has changed. Black lives matter all right — except to other blacks.