Excerpt from Foxy: My Life in Three Acts
I was thrilled when Daddy Ray gave me a dime one Saturday so I could go to the movies with a few of my friends and cousins. My aunt Mennon, my mother's sister, had four children, and I recall my excitement when we headed off to the neighborhood movie theater to see Godzilla, a film clearly chosen by the boys.
The truth is that the film could have been about anything under the sun. I wouldn't have cared. It was my first movie, and I was ecstatic over the darkened theater and my very own nickel bag of popcorn that I didn't have to share. There were no segregation restrictions for the kiddie matinee, so we were free to frolic, scream, and munch on candy and popcorn. It felt like an indoor playground where kids could bounce on the seats, yell, giggle, laugh, and play with abandon, reacting to what was on the movie screen.