in the sordida, i was saved. and i was able to draw from human thought, human disappointments and triumphs, enough to triumph myself. i'm obliged to tell you about an uncle of mine, uncle willie, in a little town, little arkansas town not far from this site, about as large as this side of the room. my uncle raised me. i was sent to him when i was three, from california, and he and my grandmother owned the only black-owned store in the town. and he was obliged to work in the store, but he was severely crippled. so he needed me to help, and my brother. so at about four, he started us to learn to read and write and do our times tables. and he used to, in order to get me to do my times tables, he would take me behind my neck, my clothes, and stand me in front of a pot-bellied stove, and he would say, "n-n-now, s-s-sister, d-do your sixes." i did my sixes. i did sevenses. even now, after an evening of copious libation, i can be awakened at eleven o'clock at night and asked, "will you do your elevenses?" i do my eleven