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　　My mother was the one who always beat me．I always cried loudly to let the neighbors 　　1　　 she was killing me．For example, if she acted as though she was about to 　　2　　 her hand to me, I would open my 　　3　　 and let the world know about it．If anybody was passing by out on the road, 　　4　　 would either change her mind or just give me a few light touches．

　　Thinking about it now, I feel certain that just as my father supported me for being 　　5　　 than the other children, my mother gave me more shout for the 　　6　　 reason．She was very bright herself, but she liked the ones who were 　　7　　．Jimmy, my eldest brother, I knew, was especially her 　　8　　．I remember that he would tell me to get out of the house．“Let the sun shine on you so you can get some color．”He went out of his way 　　9　　 to let me have a sense of color－advantage．

　　I learned early that crying out in disagreement could finish things．My older brothers and sister would sometimes come in from school and 　　10　　 a biscuit with butter or something．My mother impatiently, would tell them no．But I would cry out and make a big noise until I got what I wanted．I remember well how my mother asked me 　　11　　 I couldn’t be a nice boy like Wilfred．But I would think to myself that Wilfred, for being so nice and quiet, often stayed 　　12　　．So early in life, I had learned that if you want something, you had better make some noises．

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