A Juneteenth celebration at Franklin Park in Boston's Roxbury neighborhood in 2014. Zack Wittman/The Boston Globe via Getty Images“Visiting Comanche Crossing on Juneteenth felt like freedom,” my father said as we pulled into Booker T. Washington Park, the site near what used to be known as the historic Comanche Crossing on Lake Mexia in Texas. “Listen, Bobby, this place would be full of Black folks cooking, dancing, and playing music. It was a big festival with fireworks and a party.”
It had been more than six decades since my father had visited the park in the summer of 1965. But he sounded like a little kid again as he breathlessly recounted all the food: “We would have barbecue ribs, chicken, brisket, blood sausage, raccoon, armadillo, fried chicken, potato salad, beans and yellow meat watermelon, and we had to have that Big Red Soda – you know it was created in Waco, right? – banana pudding, peach cobbler, pecan pie, white coconut cake, German chocolate cake, berry cobblers, pies and homemade ice cream.”
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