If you are a regular reader of this column, you will remember how I gushed over my one-time neighbor Mary Lee Pinckney. When I was a youngster she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, for sure in the 900 block of Howard Street.
Feelings of sadness, anger, distrust and bitterness are like shards of glass slicing through America’s Black community. You witness that expressed by thousands of Black people in the streets protesting what they perceive to be unjustified killing …
Let’s get something straight. This is not an endorsement for Kamala Harris, the Democratic candidate for vice president. If you see it that way, you are wrong.
There was a time when I thought pecan trees waited for me to get up in the morning, then they would shed just enough pecans for me to easily fill a grit box for sale before 7 a.m.
Scrolling through my social media list a little over a week ago, I bumped into a live feed that stopped me in my tracks. There was a woman pacing, arms waving and speaking loudly to a small group of people. It was riveting. I couldn’t take my eyes…
You probably don’t know Mary Lee Pinkney. For the first 10 years of my life she was the most beautiful girl in the world which, for me, was mostly the 900 block of Howard Street in old South Baton Rouge.
It was a great mid-summer morning, lit with anticipation. My dad was going to take me fishing and we were going someplace that would take us over the Mississippi River Bridge.
There is great pain in the African American community right now. It’s searing through the hearts and minds from the streets in Baton Rouge to the sidewalks of Minneapolis, Minn., and all points in between.
My family recently celebrated the birthday of our 4-year-old granddaughter with a big multi-state get-together, thanks to some snazzy computer technology.
More and more these days, you just have to stop and wonder. You have to scratch your head when listening to some of the stuff rolling out of the mouths of some people. I’ve been dealing with a lot of that recently.
About two months ago, I was me. By that, I mean I was the guy who liked to have family and friends over to the house for barbecues, music and to have a good time. The more people, the merrier.
As this pandemic rolls on, the expected frustration from being cooped up for weeks, and the loss of jobs and income, has reached the boiling point.
My friend Calvin Beal died recently. He was well known around Baton Rouge for his willingness to joke, laugh and to continue talking. Beal, I never called him Calvin, was not perfect. But that line of perfect people is very, very short. I accepted…
As the number of cases and deaths mount, COVID-19, the coronavirus pandemic, continues to dominate our daily thoughts. Fear and panic are changing us. We ask the questions: When will this be over? What will life be like when this is over?
Panic and overreaction was the talk of the day on Wednesday. Folks were saying it seemed a lot of people and groups were overreacting to a bad situation. There was little real talk about how to stem the horrible problem that was staring us right i…
I saw a photograph of Hervis Rogers earlier this week on my news feed and when I saw what he had done, I almost shed a tear. He instantly made my list of heroes.
In the course of writing this column I have addressed racism, its roots, ravages and the long shadow it cast. Those columns always evoke the most responses, some with more racist vitriol than expected.
Now that we are in the heart of Black History Month, folks have read or watched presentations about the amazing stories of heroism, tragedy and pain that explain the African American experience in America.
A week ago, I had planned to go to a friend’s funeral. We were not extremely close, but we had crossed paths many times and had academic and friendly conversations. If nothing else, I would come early to speak to a couple of family members I knew …
So, I’m walking down the aisle at my neighborhood food market, searching for a certain brand of yellow cornmeal. Just then, I was startled by a guy walking my way with what looked like a .45 caliber gun on his hip. He stopped and turned to look at…
Over the past several years, some friends and I have brought financial gifts to high school students during the Christmas season.
Barreling out of the house recently, I had a purpose and destination in mind. I had to find a cake to bring to work for my office bake and crafts sale.
There was a great announcement at a recent news conference in Baton Rouge. Mayor-President Sharon Weston Broome proclaimed that the city no longer led the nation in something really bad.
In the anticipation of the fun and excitement leading up to Thanksgiving Day and the huge Southern University versus Grambling State Bayou Classic football game in New Orleans, this was not the news I expected.
If you’re a regular reader of this column, you’ve hared me mention this story before. But I still care about this issue because it was a tragedy and it was one the worst days of my life.
There is a Facebook photo post that I can’t shake. The first time I saw it, I stared at it for several minutes. It conjured up so much emotion. For a bundle of reasons, I had to put the heart-wrenching photo on my Facebook page.
OK, I am fed up again with the people who don’t give a hoot about anything but their own little world of cellphone dependence, especially those sitting at traffic lights.
Yes, it hurt. It still hurts. When President Donald Trump dropped the “L” word the other day, it resonated with me and probably millions of others, especially those who look like me. Trump compared the impeachment proceedings going on against him …
If you haven’t voted already, then you need to get to your polling place sometime today and the sooner the better. If you have to stand in a line a few minutes, it wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to you.
I saw something yesterday that I have never seen before. A woman being sentenced for murdering an unarmed man having hair rubbed and fondled by a court bailiff right there in the courtroom.
I recently went to a local media business where a couple of my longtime friends work. I go there a couple times a year, and it’s always the same thing. I do what I came there to do, and then we gather, and everything dissolves into a joke session.…
It started out as an easy assignment for my church: Cobble the 100-year history of New St. John Baptist Church from photos into a video.
I have joined that unenviable list of people who have surrendered their emotional lives to that device from hell — the cellphone. It’s the devil, I tell ya.
School started in East Baton Rouge Parish this week and most places around the state. The happiness and the trepidation are posted on social media.
It was a pleasant summer morning recently to be driving, but the threat of another roasting day was staring back at me on the dashboard thermometer. It was nearly 90 degrees — barely three hours after the rooster had crowed the day awake.
It all started the other day when I showed a co-worker a photo of a can of beef promoted as sitting in its own juices. I asked if she would consume it. As expected, she recoiled at such a hideous idea.
Many years ago, I was a college student trying to hustle a few dollars in tips at a Baton Rouge drive-in called Hopper’s, where I waited on patrons in their cars.
My friend Guy Reynolds, an award-winning photojournalist and former Advocate staffer, went toe-to-toe with cancer for more than two years. It was stage 4, one of the toughest to overcome, entailing dozens of treatments and the loss of his esophagu…
It was all I could take in recent days. The president of the United States called the Duchess of Sussex, Meghan Markle, “nasty” and then denied it, even though his words had been recorded.
I was 14 years old, about 5 feet tall, and all of 115 pounds soaking wet. I was a middle school ninth grader who wanted to be a cornerback on the football team.
“I’m proud of myself because, at first, I didn’t want to do this topic, but afterward, I was happy to be put in this group. And I was happy to have had this opportunity.”