Chicago Sun-Times

Stand as a man, but walk with humility

Thu, 02 May 2013 02:25:42 -0500

I stand as a man, no greater and no less than any man. And yet, as a black man I stand having to walk that fine line between tiptoeing and buck dancing, always being careful not to offend. I stand having learned that to walk like my grandfather — a good man who retired as a letter carrier — with shoulders square and head up is enough to make some label me a braggart. I stand wondering why the same attributes in men of other races make them “confident” but make me “cocky,” “conceited,” “pompous” to some. That to dream …

Parents always see the potential

Thu, 25 Apr 2013 02:32:21 -0500

My son’s primary school art teacher was about to catch our wrath. OK, so maybe not our full wrath. But his mother and I intended to get to the bottom of why, after scoring A’s on most of his second-grade art assignments a few years ago, he ended up each previous quarter with a big fat B — in art, of all things. “Does he have to be the second coming of Michelangelo to get an A?” I fussed. “Who does she think she is, Picasso? Sheesh.” Maybe I was overreacting. I have known parents to be concerned over a …

Dressing sharply transforms a man

Thu, 18 Apr 2013 02:20:02 -0500

It is my uniform: a brightly colored, solid silk tie against a starched white shirt with French cuffs and a dark, pinstriped suit. Black spit-shined shoes. Matching pocket square. A dimpled knot in my tie. Check. A dash of cologne — icing on the cake. Clean-shaven or beard neatly trimmed, my bald head glistening, I step into the professional world dressed to impress whether as professor, journalist, speaker or author. Mine is a heritage of men of the suit. Black men who worked as sharecroppers and field hands or in menial jobs, but who found a certain salvation in putting …

As dads disappear, moms hold it down

Thu, 11 Apr 2013 02:21:20 -0500

I have seen her, moving with a certain determination and fearlessness in the glowing light of dawn, walking with her children in tow. Holding it down. Come rain or shine, I have seen her, wearing that 9-to-5 face. Standing at bus stops, at train stations, or rushing to schools or nurseries early in the morning to deposit her babies then kissing them goodbye and hurrying out the door. Bartenders, baristas and businesswomen. Secretaries, schoolteachers and CEOs. Juggling the duties of home, childrearing and work, they punch the clock. At workday’s end, they’re off to pick up the children from the …

Life moves along outside my window

Thu, 04 Apr 2013 12:08:55 -0500

From a downtown cafe window, I inhale the ebb and flow of life up and down Michigan Avenue 30 minutes before noon. A Lay’s Potato Chip truck inches toward Madison Street for a right turn, followed by two taxis. Smiling, a group of three ladies wearing long, dark coats, one clutching a camera, passes. Inside, the music blares — the sounds of 1972. “…Papa was a rolling stone.” The Temptations take me back. Back then I was 12. But this is now — a new season, a priceless moment in time that may itself someday crackle and pop in the …

I haven’t found any perfect people yet

Mon, 29 Apr 2013 11:51:55 -0500

‘True character shines through men of faith like you . . . ” These were the words on the front of a handsome greeting card. I had retrieved the envelope addressed to “Prof. John W. Fountain” from my mailbox at work. The message inside the card — from Hallmark’s Mahogany collection — made reference to great biblical men: Daniel, Joseph, Abraham . . . “You’re the kind of man others admire and look up to,” it concluded. “Wishing you a very blessed Father’s Day.” I was moved by the card and also by the thought of the sender, who happened …

I stand cold over Jonylah’s coffin

Mon, 22 Apr 2013 12:04:23 -0500

Cold. I felt only cold, standing over the tiny casket, bearing the body of Jonylah Watkins, who, four days shy of turning six months old, was murdered by a cold-hearted, cold-blooded killer. Cold I felt, standing inside Leak & Sons Funeral Home with the knowledge that the killer, in all likelihood, is a black man and that instead of lying in eternal sleep, Jonylah ought to be resting soundly at her home in a crib. Numb I stood, facing the truth that we as African Americans have become our own worst enemy. That we must hate ourselves. That we seem …

Declare war to stop babies from dying

Mon, 15 Apr 2013 11:18:07 -0500

“If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.” 2 Chronicles 7:14 The solution is not complex. Our current state is one of chaos — of murderous bloodstained, streets filled with heartless sons who gun down even 6-month-old infant girls. But it is solvable. We are at war. It is not at its core a natural war but a spiritual one. A war against good waged by raw evil. …

Keeping that light on in my son’s eyes

Mon, 08 Apr 2013 07:42:17 -0500

I was staring into my son’s brown eyes, proud of his accomplishment, and yet offering my critique of his performance during sparring for his black belt in taekwondo. That’s when I noticed a certain darkening in his eyes that moments earlier had shone like the sun on polished chrome. I suddenly caught myself and thought, “Man, are you stupid? What are you doing?” I have vowed never to become one of those parents who vicariously lives through their children, especially where sports are concerned — the kind who morph into barking criticizers who can make a kid feel real small. …

‘Man laws’ say men don’t share dessert

Mon, 01 Apr 2013 11:49:59 -0500

So, a good male friend and I are sitting at a restaurant bar when he orders dessert — ice cream and pie, my Facebook posting went. “Would you guys like an extra plate to share?” the waitress asks. “Uh-h-h, no,” I say. “I’m good.” “Would you guys like two spoons then?” Huh? “No,” I say again to the waitress. “I’m good.” “Aww c’mon bro, have some,” my friend insists in the bass-thick voice of the 200-plus pound man that he is. “Man Law 278,” I say to my friend, “A brother does not spoon a dessert from a plate with …

Our nicknames for our children can have a bigger impact than we think

Fri, 22 Mar 2013 10:25:47 -0500

There was “Horsehead” — “Horse” for short. And “Blue Moon.” “J-Rat” and “Huckey.” A girl some of the boys teasingly called, “Wiggity-Wigs.” An older dude we all called “Cookie.” There was the big fat kid we called “Meat.” There was “Pokey.” “Pig.” And “Oink-Oink.” Such were the nicknames of boys — and girls — that grew up in my ’hood, where a kid’s street handle back then was sometimes the only name you knew. Some names were crueler than others. There was Crypto (a hybrid of “Cripple”), so named because he walked with a limp. Someone must have figured Horsehead …

How many victims will it take to prove we value human life?

Fri, 15 Mar 2013 13:20:30 -0500

Hadiya Pendleton, 15, was fatally shot Jan. 29 while standing underneath a canopy at a South Side park. This is another in an occasional, yearlong series that looks behind the number of murders in Chicago. If it were Sasha and Malia, instead of Heaven and Hadiya, would this nation then mourn? Will we remember through the years, after all shed tears, candlelight vigils, marches and time, our little girls who lived and prematurely died? In time, will we even remember their names? Or will we ensure that they died not in vain? If little rich girls from suburban plains were …

Aunt Mary’s lessons never get old

Fri, 08 Mar 2013 07:39:33 -0500

We stood at the front door in a circle, holding hands — a dozen or so children, watched over by my Aunt Mary, like a mother hen. This was our morning ritual on school days after a hot bowl of oatmeal, buttered cinnamon toast and fruit juice. “May the Lord watch,” one of us led the prayer as the chorus of mostly cousins repeated in near perfect unison. “May the Lord watch . . . ” “Between me and thee . . . “While we’re absent . . . “One from another . . . Aaaaaa-men!” After prayer, we hurried …

Obama should lead fight for safe Chicago streets

Sat, 02 Mar 2013 07:41:21 -0500

I am almost too angry to write. Angry about the killings. Angry at this city I love. Angry at my people — fellow African Americans — over our nonchalant acceptance of the senseless murder of our children in the streets like dogs, and our defeatist, kneejerk, shoulder hunching. I am angry about the murder of another child — Hadiya Pendleton, 15 — fatally shot this week while standing under a canopy in a South Side park. I am angry that we still are not up in arms. That we have not yet declared, “Enough is enough.” A state of emergency. …

Murder tally’s biggest number: one

Mon, 25 Feb 2013 12:42:45 -0500

One. One bullet. One gun. One hot summer’s night. One death. One city. One dream. One funeral. One father’s grief. One community’s scourge. One mother’s tears. One child’s fears. One. One last kiss. One pastor’s plight. One hope. One fight. This is the first in an occasional, yearlong series that looks intimately behind the number of murders in Chicago, which in 2012 totaled 506 — more than one a day, nearly 10 a week, about 42 a month. The numbers tell only part of the story in a city with a deadly brew of guns, gangs and brazen gunmen with …

Parents can’t ward off all danger

Tue, 19 Feb 2013 13:58:18 -0500

When things go bump in the night, I arise. Usually, it is the settling sounds and creaking of the house that make me climb out of bed to investigate. On the way, I look in on the kids — my teenage daughter and pre-teen son. Sometimes I pull the blanket up around their necks tightly, kiss them on the forehead, whisper a prayer. I have always done this, ever since they were babies. I don’t think this makes me a “good” father necessarily, and I certainly am not writing about it for any kudos. It just is. And it is …

Spirit of revival where it is needed

Mon, 11 Feb 2013 07:25:54 -0500

The summer night breathed with the sounds of a tent revival in the open air. Beneath the glowing big top a few years ago, members of the black Baptist congregation on the West Side sat in folding chairs. A fiery preacher spewed the word of God. Nearby a blue light camera also flickered high above a light post — a symbol of the times and also an effort to help sanctify these streets. The amens and hallelujahs rose like the illicit rap music that poured from passing cars with pulsating bass that made them rattle. I remember wondering: Is the …

The world’s ‘end’ is time to make a fresh start

Mon, 04 Feb 2013 14:45:09 -0500

On the day the world was supposed to end, I found myself near the Caribbean coastal town of Xcaret, Mexico, not far from where ancient Mayan ruins stand — blue waters gently rolling. I hadn’t necessarily planned to be here on Dec. 21 — the prophetic doomsday date that some believed had been foretold by ancient Mayans. Though largely dismissed by experts, the notion of the world ending in 2012 — of fire falling from the sky or a tidal wave eclipsing all dry land — was not lost on everyone else, even if you didn’t exactly believe it. I …