My grandparents had one son. His name was “Bobby,” and he was my dad. Although, he was an only child, my grandparents served as surrogate parents for cousins and any others needing love and care. One such person was my Aunt Melba. She was a young teenage white woman, who was widowed with two children. At the time she crossed paths my grandma was in the 1960s, when racial bias in the South was still a lot more blatant than it is now. Grandma could see that Melba needed care. From that time, my family became their “village,” and we all love each other dearly. Click the link below to read the brief story Helaine Williams published in the Arkansas Gazette: https://www.nwaonline.com/news/2015/oct/18/love-that-knows-no-
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