For The Working Class Black Parents Whose Lives We Will Not Save
3 min readMay 7, 2020
My uncle Roger died in 2017, well before coronavirus. For many years of my childhood, he worked on a garbage truck. He and my father were often up at the same ungodly, dark hour of morning, the former passing by the house on his garbage route while the latter left to work as a mechanic on emergency vehicles for the city.
