My first pet was a dog. I confess that I’ve never lived with a cat. To having never spent more than a few uncomfortable minutes around a furry feline.
John W. Fountain
We must never accept this scourge as normalcy. Never be resigned to allowing evil to reign or afraid to confront it.
Time and space won’t allow me to even scratch the surface.
Even after all these years, the memory is unsettling. “Al The-Shoeshine Man” meandered through the newsroom, offering reporters and editors a shine.
Let the church cease from treating “outreach” like an hors d’oeuvres. Let it become the main course.
Who was convicted of the murder of Eugene Williams that sparked the Chicago Riot of 1919?
I have grown accustomed to the journalistic bumps, bruises and slights that accompany my inescapable blackness.
The true measure of a man is not what he gives from his abundance but from his lack, even as he stares face to face at his own mortality.
Converse was cool, a status symbol to a ghetto boy — crown jewel to a hoops ensemble of thigh-high basketball shorts and a T-shirt.
One thing I have learned for certain: Haters gonna hate. And this brand of hate splinters far too many families.
A cry for a church that the young man inside me once knew and still remembers.