Six years ago I was walking down a street near a junior high. There were three young boys walking behind me in sagging jeans, baseball caps, and backpacks talking loud enough for me to hear every word they were saying.
One boy said, “That lady is really pretty. That’s how I want my wife to look.”
Even though they were young enough to be my own sons, the comment made me blush. As I was approaching my car, I heard one of the boys say,
“Oh hell naw! She don’t make enough money for me!”