Memoirous

Here I am on vacation writing up a blog post on my Kindle which consistently wants to auto-correct Ta-Nehisi Coates, so forgive me if I neglected t to keep writing the name. I have finished reading Between the World and Me . On the same day  news leaks out about another Chicago police shooting "under investigation" . The difficulties of blogging on a Kindle have gone out the window. But, with Coates words in my head and the news headlines before my eyes I cannot help asking some of the same questions raised in this thought-provoking book. Virtually one long essay written to his teenage son. Of how to save himself, and still not be safe. That there is no safety. I'm questioning so much. Yet, like Coates I feel a great distance between the world out there and the world inside of me, they have never jived. Perhaps this misunderstanding is normal for thoughtful, curious kids. The world of difference is color: I did not have to fear for my life while other writer-type ki...

Yesterday, Sunday, instead of services, my church joined with other groups across the city and country to protest the recent grand jury decisions and, in general, the increase in aggressive policing tactics. I attend a multi-generational, multi-ethnic church so there are always lots of opinions—in this instance we were on the same page.   I was proud of us and the energy that went into the message. There was art, singing, and performance; we certainly got people’s attention. The most powerful demonstration was when we put “bodies”—clothes stuffed to look like bodies out in the middle of the road with sheets covering them. The sheets had names (representing several recent policing fatalities) painted on them in black lettering.  Now for a self-revelation: I was really uncomfortable during the protest. I didn’t want to walk in the road, stop traffic, or perform civil disobedience. It wasn’t that I was afraid because in a heart beat I’ll speak up or unwisely...