I Ain't Said Nothin' But A Word...

Roxboro, NC is one of those sleepy communities that is reminiscent of another era. Back in the day I’m sure it was considered a one-horse town and despite the growth, it is still a community where time feels as if it is standing still. Little happens in Roxboro and the residents are happy to keep it that way. There was little fanfare when a convoy organized by the Klu Klux Klan paraded through town in 2016 to celebrate President-Elect Donald Trump's win. Only a few of the town’s citizens were dismayed by their presence. Local police blocked several intersections along US Highway 501 as they waved their Confederate flags, moving through and exiting the city. Sadly, racism in Roxboro is one of those things that time has held onto tightly. Law enforcement and local politicians have become proficient at keeping attention off the small community. But anyone who lives there, works there, or who has contact with the town knows that racism is as prevalent now as it was some fifty years...

Mr. Ben, one of my most favorite guys, succumbed to his old age recently. He wished his nurse a good night, copping one last feel of her ample bosom, then drifted off to sleep. He never woke back up. He hadn’t been well for the last year or two, everyone predicting his demise when it seemed expected. But as was his nature, he never did what was expected of him. After a while we’d all become convinced that he would outlive each of us so the finality of his life has left us breathless, our hearts completely devastated. Mr. Ben was one of my favorite people. He was a dirty old man who could be cantankerous and ornery, flirtatious and loving, comical and humorous. He was charming and annoying and he touched a piece of my heart like no one else. The last time I saw him he didn’t remember my name but he blessed me with his magnificent smile and winked a grey eye as if we shared a secret. Mr. Ben was not his real name. That name was a private joke between the two of us. It seemed fitting to u...

It's hard to fathom any loss, but when we lose one of our own, it is particularly heartwrenching. Best-selling author E. Lynn Harris has died. He was 54. Harris was on tour, promoting his 11th novel, 'Basketball Jones,' which involved an NBA player and his gay lover. His personal assistant confirmed that his health had declined but would not provide details as to what caused his death. A cheerleading sponsor and coach at the University of Arkansas and a passionate Razorbacks fan, Harris' books dealt with black gay culture. More recently, the Detroit native served as a visiting professor in the English department at the university.The former IBM executive had just celebrated his 54th birthday on June 20. I had the pleasure of meeting him years ago as he was thoroughly enjoying the fruits of his success. At a local booksigning, in a room packed with fans, I was able to ask him a question, wanting to know his advice to aspiring authors who wished to garner the success he h...

He’d been 13. I’d been 10 and I was head over heels in love. So much so that when he and his brothers were playing Madison Square Garden just weeks after my birthday, my parents purchased tickets for us all to go. At the last minute my father was unable to get away from work. Without a ride those precious Jackson 5 tickets were doomed to go to waste. I’d been devastated until my mother discovered that one of the local churches was taking a busload of its congregation to the concert. Finagling three seats for her, my sister, and I, we headed for New York. This was a true feat because my mother was NOT a bus riding woman. I wore a new dress and was excited when my grandmother volunteered to take me to the hairdresser to get my hair done. That was a first because I hated to go to the beauty shop with a passion but I would have done anything in the world to look good for my guy. I had it all planned out, too. During intermission I would head to the little girl’s room. He would be headed to...

Yesterday, Exodus Tyson, the 4-year-old daughter of former heavy-weight boxer Mike Tyson died at a hospital, one day after her neck apparently got caught in a treadmill cord at her Phoenix home. I can only begin to imagine her poor mother's heartbreak. I don't know about tears in heaven, but I know there is a wealth of tears being spilled down here on earth. We'll never know why God calls us home when he does. I can only hope that he had great need for such a little angel in his hallowed halls. My condolences to the family for their loss.

Eartha Kitt, the sultry-voiced songstress, actress and dancer who went from the South Carolina cotton fields to international award-winning stardom, has died at the age of 81. During her lifetime, Ms. Kitt, a self-proclaimed “sex kitten”, purred her way into the hearts of many with versatile performances that won her two Emmys and a third nomination. She had also been nominated for several Tony Awards and two Grammys. The woman was pure fire and ice, outspoken and unapologetic for her opinions and sexy as hell without even trying. She was the picture of vitality and I once heard her described as a woman who every man wished he could have and every woman wished she could be like. Don’t tell, but Eartha Kitt ignited my love of most things European and inspired my own deep, alto intonation and sultry swagger as I strived to emulate her grace and elegance. Many of our young starlets today could learn a thing or two from Ms. Kitt. She will be sorely missed by many. Goodbye, Ms. Eartha....

Most in my inner circle know that my tastes tend to be very eclectic. My musical tastes in particular run the gamut from old school to hard rock. It all just depends on my mood of the moment what might be blaring from my stereo speakers and on occasion there are some strange things blaring. Lately I’ve been keeping my youngest child challenged with my musical selections as he strives to keep my ZUNE player up to my standards. Sadly, one of my favorite performers, Miriam Makeba, the South African singer with the sultry voice that was at times like liquid gold passed away. Ms. Makeba was 76 years old and a true product of her environment. Her music reflected her experiences and it has touched my spirit many times since I discovered her some twenty years ago. She was banned from her home country for more than thirty years under apartheid but she persevered, building a phenomenal musical career that touched millions. Nelson Mandela has said in a statement that, "her haunting melodies ...

Missing You I'm saddened by the news that comedian, Bernie Mac, and soul legend, Isaac Hayes, both passed away this weekend. May they both rest in peace.

“Welcome, baby!” Phillis Wheatley exclaims as Dorothy West wraps her in a warm embrace. “There is a seat for you here,” Lorraine Hansberry calls out from the table where they have all gathered, each holding court when it is her turn. As Zora guides her to a cushioned throne between Audre and Octavia, she smiles her brilliant smile. “Young, gifted, and black,” Lorraine chimes as she leans to pat the back of her hand gently. “Joining us much too soon,” Ann Petry intones. “Not for us to say,” Alice Dunbar-Nelson muses, sipping from a heavenly cup of tea. “But it’s being said none the less,” says Audre. “Where am I?” she asks, in awe of the mothers and daughters who had come before her. They all smile. Zora chuckles softly. “In a room full of free women,” she answers. “Where the beauty of your words will continue to light the stars of heaven,” Octavia adds. “Heaven,” they all chime in unison. “Won’t you share something you’ve written?” Ann asks. “I do believe it’s your turn.” “And introduc...