The young, attractive, black,

female law student, who

just happens to be

a survivor

of sexual abuse, tried to make the

case for a society where

women don’t even

have to think

about having to carry a gun

in order to deter rape,

but rather to inform

and educate

the populace, and males

in particular, to respect

women.  She got

several death

threats after

being interviewed on

Fox News. She

refuses to be

bullied

into silence. Good for

her, but until we attain

the status of

being an

ideal pacifistic society, I

would suggest she

carry a canister of

bear spray.

He climbed over the railroad

Tracks from the parochial

School to home, from 108^th St.

Christian School and all the

Fights in the school yard

To 10633 S. Normal Ave.

And then to the public

School yard on the west

Side of Halsted St. and

One young, Black boy,

An elementary school

Classmate, who years

Later would become the

Human face that would

Influence the thinking of

That white boy who didn’t

Do very well in that public

System but who, in various

Other systems under very

Different circumstances,

Came into his own

Academically and ded-

Icated himself to racial

Equality.  He wondered

Whatever happened to

His grade school buddy

And if that buddy even

Gave him a thought, ever.

When Doris Day sang through

the night club smoke as it wafted

over her passing through her

flowing golden locks and chiffon

gown, but apparently not affecting

her voice, “The magic is my love for

you,” and it was the summer of

1953 and I’m eight years old and

standing in my underpants as the

wind blows through the open wind-

ows of the second floor of our

south side of Chicago home and my

mother, over the sound of the radio,

shouts up the stairwell, “Robert Edwin,

you better not be bouncing on your bed.”

Jeannie Hedstrom and I broke that up-

stairs make-do trampoline the week

before. I shout back, “I’m just standin’

here, mom,”  as I slip into the bathroom

and Doris Day gives way to Kate

Smith’s “God Bless America.”

When he awoke, he

Wondered

Why

He had dreamed

What he had dreamed

At the beginning of March –

No birthdays, no anniversaries,

And then he thought

About the death of his dog

Three weeks before.

Would it? Could it?

The death of a pet

Triggering a

Dream

About his wife of twenty-six

Years

Who died almost twenty years

Before?

This time

He told his wife,

Who, for the first time, instead

Of turning from him,

Wanted him to stay with

Her at her art exhibit,

That he had to go.

She had always left

Him

In his sweat as he

Had emerged

So very, very

Sad from sleep.

He wondered aloud,

“Had the dog

Meant that

Much?”