The Peach Brandy Man

" San Diego."

He gave a slow, approving nod. "I once spoke at a ladies' club out there in Los Angeles. Hollywood, I think it was. What do you teach?"

"Sociology."

He nodded again. "That's real nice." He turned to my uncle. "Where do you stay now, Yella Hamma?"

"I'm still over in Lithonia, sir."

He shook his head sadly, a mild look of displeasure crossing his face. "You still over in Lithonia, huh. Well, I hear that's a pretty bad place now. They're messing around with that dope and stuff now. Way back in '33, over in New Orleans, I defended a boy that had been messing around with that stuff." He spread his thumb and index finger. "Them cigarettes."

"They call them 'reefers,' " my uncle told him.

He nodded. "Yeah, I know they do, Yella Hamma. Back then, they called them something else."

"Well, that stuff's still no good," my uncle said. He looked at his watch. "Well, Mr. Venable, we won't take up any more of your time. I just wanted my nephew to see you."

I shook his hand again before leaving. "Nice talking with you, sir."