“The children in the neighborhood didn’t have radios; they didn’t have television—but they had my Uncle Charlie, who was a wonderful storyteller and who enjoyed children very much. Every evening they’d gather on our stoop, and Uncle Charlie would tell his stories, which he made up as he went along. When it came time for the children to go home, and that was when the lights would go on, the streetlights; Uncle Charlie would end the story for the evening by saying: ‘And this character stepped on a piece of tin. The tin bended and the story ended.’ And, everybody would protest: ‘No, it didn’t end—it didn’t end!’ ‘Well, it will be continued in our next….”
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