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Now I was walking in the hallway through the wax museum when I looked up at the wax figure of an Afro-American individual. He looked down at me, and his features came to life as he said–As I hope you realize, my name is Frederick Douglass, and I want to tell you about my life.
That would definitely be an honor. I tell you what–I am going to get out of the way and let you start talking about your early life. And please be as thorough as you want.
Thank you. I was born in Tuckahoe, about twelve miles from Easton, in Talbot county, Maryland. I have no accurate knowledge of my age, never having seen any authentic record containing it. By far the larger part of the slaves know as little of their ages as horses know of theirs, and it is the wish of most masters within my knowledge to keep their slaves thus ignorant. I do not remember to have ever met a slave who could tell of his birthday. They seldom come nearer to it than planting-time, harvest-time, cherry-time, spring-time, or fall-time. A want of information concerning my own was a source of unhappiness to me even during childhood. The white children could tell their ages. I could not tell why I ought to be deprived of the same privilege.
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