Durga McBroom

Red Blood, Black Skin and The Blue Sweep

Red blood, Black skin, and “The Blue Sweep”. My big sister was my hero. Back in those days when I still literally looked up to her, she was my Fearless Leader in our summer exploits. Five years my senior, it took a long time for me to pass her by 3 inches in height, as well as miraculously close the intellectual gap by finally meeting up with her in the faraway land of “grown up”. But back then I idolized her. When she would deign to break away from her fascinating older friends who talked about boys (what on earth did they do with THEM? It all sounded squishy and complicated) to come out into the sunshine to play silly childhood games with me, my heart would soar. I was 8, she was 13. I would happily be her Robin if Batman would only come out of her groovy teenage Batcave. Today, she did, despite the fact that these days our number one focus was on survival. We rarely played anymore. Survivors don’t have time for child’s play.