Earlier this year, out of the blue, I received a most unusual query about the cover of Caste — and its landmark photo of hundreds of real-life people from all walks of life. A woman in California, Linda Sokolnicki, reached out wanting to know where the photo was taken because she saw her father’s face in it. The photo shows some of the quarter million people gathered at the 1963 March on Washington where MLK delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech. I asked her which man was her father, and she sent me an image of the book with a circle around a man with a heart-shaped face in a priest’s collar. She said her father, Gene Curry, was a retired Episcopal priest in Michigan, a gentle and humble man who was up in years now at 88 and that his health and memory were not what they once were. The discovery began with his wife, Ruth. A friend of hers, a principal, had told her that “if I only read one book this year, this is the one I should select.” So Ruth ordered Caste. “When I got it, I saw Gene‘s picture on the cover. That is how it all started.” Rev. Curry sent a group text to his children about being on the cover. The daughter ordered the book and immediately spotted him. Her husband happened to hear an interview of mine and told her, “I just heard this interview, and I’m thinking about getting this book called Caste.” Linda said, “That’s the book I was telling you about with my Dad on the cover!” Gene Curry, born in 1936, worked as an engineer and served as a priest at a church in Detroit, whose rectory doors were always open to the poor. When the first black residents moved to their block, the Curry family befriended them while other whites fled. During Covid, he placed blessed ashes on the foreheads of motorists in a snowstorm at Lent. The discovery was a gorgeously full circle moment. Had the photo not wrapped around the back of the book and been positioned just so, his face would not have been visible. Had his wife not ordered the hardcover, they would never have seen his face — it was cropped out of the smaller-sized paperback. This is the time of year to honor miracles, and the things that are meant to be.
Earlier this year, out of the blue, I received a most unusual query about the cover of Caste — and its landmark photo of hundreds of real-life people from all walks of life. A woman in California, Linda Sokolnicki, reached out wanting to know where the photo was taken because she saw her father’s face in it. The photo shows some of the quarter million people gathered at the 1963 March on Washington where MLK delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech. I asked her which man was her father, and she sent me an image of the book with a circle around a man with a heart-shaped face in a priest’s collar. She said her father, Gene Curry, was a retired Episcopal priest in Michigan, a gentle and humble man who was up in years now at 88 and that his health and memory were not what they once were. The discovery began with his wife, Ruth. A friend of hers, a principal, had told her that “if I only read one book this year, this is the one I should select.” So Ruth ordered Caste. “When I got it, I saw Gene‘s picture on the cover. That is how it all started.” Rev. Curry sent a group text to his children about being on the cover. The daughter ordered the book and immediately spotted him. Her husband happened to hear an interview of mine and told her, “I just heard this interview, and I’m thinking about getting this book called Caste.” Linda said, “That’s the book I was telling you about with my Dad on the cover!” Gene Curry, born in 1936, worked as an engineer and served as a priest at a church in Detroit, whose rectory doors were always open to the poor. When the first black residents moved to their block, the Curry family befriended them while other whites fled. During Covid, he placed blessed ashes on the foreheads of motorists in a snowstorm at Lent. The discovery was a gorgeously full circle moment. Had the photo not wrapped around the back of the book and been positioned just so, his face would not have been visible. Had his wife not ordered the hardcover, they would never have seen his face — it was cropped out of the smaller-sized paperback. This is the time of year to honor miracles, and the things that are meant to be.
Earlier this year, out of the blue, I received a most unusual query about the cover of Caste — and its landmark photo of hundreds of real-life people from all walks of life. A woman in California, Linda Sokolnicki, reached out wanting to know where the photo was taken because she saw her father’s face in it. The photo shows some of the quarter million people gathered at the 1963 March on Washington where MLK delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech. I asked her which man was her father, and she sent me an image of the book with a circle around a man with a heart-shaped face in a priest’s collar. She said her father, Gene Curry, was a retired Episcopal priest in Michigan, a gentle and humble man who was up in years now at 88 and that his health and memory were not what they once were. The discovery began with his wife, Ruth. A friend of hers, a principal, had told her that “if I only read one book this year, this is the one I should select.” So Ruth ordered Caste. “When I got it, I saw Gene‘s picture on the cover. That is how it all started.” Rev. Curry sent a group text to his children about being on the cover. The daughter ordered the book and immediately spotted him. Her husband happened to hear an interview of mine and told her, “I just heard this interview, and I’m thinking about getting this book called Caste.” Linda said, “That’s the book I was telling you about with my Dad on the cover!” Gene Curry, born in 1936, worked as an engineer and served as a priest at a church in Detroit, whose rectory doors were always open to the poor. When the first black residents moved to their block, the Curry family befriended them while other whites fled. During Covid, he placed blessed ashes on the foreheads of motorists in a snowstorm at Lent. The discovery was a gorgeously full circle moment. Had the photo not wrapped around the back of the book and been positioned just so, his face would not have been visible. Had his wife not ordered the hardcover, they would never have seen his face — it was cropped out of the smaller-sized paperback. This is the time of year to honor miracles, and the things that are meant to be.
Earlier this year, out of the blue, I received a most unusual query about the cover of Caste — and its landmark photo of hundreds of real-life people from all walks of life. A woman in California, Linda Sokolnicki, reached out wanting to know where the photo was taken because she saw her father’s face in it. The photo shows some of the quarter million people gathered at the 1963 March on Washington where MLK delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech. I asked her which man was her father, and she sent me an image of the book with a circle around a man with a heart-shaped face in a priest’s collar. She said her father, Gene Curry, was a retired Episcopal priest in Michigan, a gentle and humble man who was up in years now at 88 and that his health and memory were not what they once were. The discovery began with his wife, Ruth. A friend of hers, a principal, had told her that “if I only read one book this year, this is the one I should select.” So Ruth ordered Caste. “When I got it, I saw Gene‘s picture on the cover. That is how it all started.” Rev. Curry sent a group text to his children about being on the cover. The daughter ordered the book and immediately spotted him. Her husband happened to hear an interview of mine and told her, “I just heard this interview, and I’m thinking about getting this book called Caste.” Linda said, “That’s the book I was telling you about with my Dad on the cover!” Gene Curry, born in 1936, worked as an engineer and served as a priest at a church in Detroit, whose rectory doors were always open to the poor. When the first black residents moved to their block, the Curry family befriended them while other whites fled. During Covid, he placed blessed ashes on the foreheads of motorists in a snowstorm at Lent. The discovery was a gorgeously full circle moment. Had the photo not wrapped around the back of the book and been positioned just so, his face would not have been visible. Had his wife not ordered the hardcover, they would never have seen his face — it was cropped out of the smaller-sized paperback. This is the time of year to honor miracles, and the things that are meant to be.
Earlier this year, out of the blue, I received a most unusual query about the cover of Caste — and its landmark photo of hundreds of real-life people from all walks of life. A woman in California, Linda Sokolnicki, reached out wanting to know where the photo was taken because she saw her father’s face in it. The photo shows some of the quarter million people gathered at the 1963 March on Washington where MLK delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech. I asked her which man was her father, and she sent me an image of the book with a circle around a man with a heart-shaped face in a priest’s collar. She said her father, Gene Curry, was a retired Episcopal priest in Michigan, a gentle and humble man who was up in years now at 88 and that his health and memory were not what they once were. The discovery began with his wife, Ruth. A friend of hers, a principal, had told her that “if I only read one book this year, this is the one I should select.” So Ruth ordered Caste. “When I got it, I saw Gene‘s picture on the cover. That is how it all started.” Rev. Curry sent a group text to his children about being on the cover. The daughter ordered the book and immediately spotted him. Her husband happened to hear an interview of mine and told her, “I just heard this interview, and I’m thinking about getting this book called Caste.” Linda said, “That’s the book I was telling you about with my Dad on the cover!” Gene Curry, born in 1936, worked as an engineer and served as a priest at a church in Detroit, whose rectory doors were always open to the poor. When the first black residents moved to their block, the Curry family befriended them while other whites fled. During Covid, he placed blessed ashes on the foreheads of motorists in a snowstorm at Lent. The discovery was a gorgeously full circle moment. Had the photo not wrapped around the back of the book and been positioned just so, his face would not have been visible. Had his wife not ordered the hardcover, they would never have seen his face — it was cropped out of the smaller-sized paperback. This is the time of year to honor miracles, and the things that are meant to be.
Earlier this year, out of the blue, I received a most unusual query about the cover of Caste — and its landmark photo of hundreds of real-life people from all walks of life. A woman in California, Linda Sokolnicki, reached out wanting to know where the photo was taken because she saw her father’s face in it. The photo shows some of the quarter million people gathered at the 1963 March on Washington where MLK delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech. I asked her which man was her father, and she sent me an image of the book with a circle around a man with a heart-shaped face in a priest’s collar. She said her father, Gene Curry, was a retired Episcopal priest in Michigan, a gentle and humble man who was up in years now at 88 and that his health and memory were not what they once were. The discovery began with his wife, Ruth. A friend of hers, a principal, had told her that “if I only read one book this year, this is the one I should select.” So Ruth ordered Caste. “When I got it, I saw Gene‘s picture on the cover. That is how it all started.” Rev. Curry sent a group text to his children about being on the cover. The daughter ordered the book and immediately spotted him. Her husband happened to hear an interview of mine and told her, “I just heard this interview, and I’m thinking about getting this book called Caste.” Linda said, “That’s the book I was telling you about with my Dad on the cover!” Gene Curry, born in 1936, worked as an engineer and served as a priest at a church in Detroit, whose rectory doors were always open to the poor. When the first black residents moved to their block, the Curry family befriended them while other whites fled. During Covid, he placed blessed ashes on the foreheads of motorists in a snowstorm at Lent. The discovery was a gorgeously full circle moment. Had the photo not wrapped around the back of the book and been positioned just so, his face would not have been visible. Had his wife not ordered the hardcover, they would never have seen his face — it was cropped out of the smaller-sized paperback. This is the time of year to honor miracles, and the things that are meant to be.
Earlier this year, out of the blue, I received a most unusual query about the cover of Caste — and its landmark photo of hundreds of real-life people from all walks of life. A woman in California, Linda Sokolnicki, reached out wanting to know where the photo was taken because she saw her father’s face in it. The photo shows some of the quarter million people gathered at the 1963 March on Washington where MLK delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech. I asked her which man was her father, and she sent me an image of the book with a circle around a man with a heart-shaped face in a priest’s collar. She said her father, Gene Curry, was a retired Episcopal priest in Michigan, a gentle and humble man who was up in years now at 88 and that his health and memory were not what they once were. The discovery began with his wife, Ruth. A friend of hers, a principal, had told her that “if I only read one book this year, this is the one I should select.” So Ruth ordered Caste. “When I got it, I saw Gene‘s picture on the cover. That is how it all started.” Rev. Curry sent a group text to his children about being on the cover. The daughter ordered the book and immediately spotted him. Her husband happened to hear an interview of mine and told her, “I just heard this interview, and I’m thinking about getting this book called Caste.” Linda said, “That’s the book I was telling you about with my Dad on the cover!” Gene Curry, born in 1936, worked as an engineer and served as a priest at a church in Detroit, whose rectory doors were always open to the poor. When the first black residents moved to their block, the Curry family befriended them while other whites fled. During Covid, he placed blessed ashes on the foreheads of motorists in a snowstorm at Lent. The discovery was a gorgeously full circle moment. Had the photo not wrapped around the back of the book and been positioned just so, his face would not have been visible. Had his wife not ordered the hardcover, they would never have seen his face — it was cropped out of the smaller-sized paperback. This is the time of year to honor miracles, and the things that are meant to be.
Earlier this year, out of the blue, I received a most unusual query about the cover of Caste — and its landmark photo of hundreds of real-life people from all walks of life. A woman in California, Linda Sokolnicki, reached out wanting to know where the photo was taken because she saw her father’s face in it. The photo shows some of the quarter million people gathered at the 1963 March on Washington where MLK delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech. I asked her which man was her father, and she sent me an image of the book with a circle around a man with a heart-shaped face in a priest’s collar. She said her father, Gene Curry, was a retired Episcopal priest in Michigan, a gentle and humble man who was up in years now at 88 and that his health and memory were not what they once were. The discovery began with his wife, Ruth. A friend of hers, a principal, had told her that “if I only read one book this year, this is the one I should select.” So Ruth ordered Caste. “When I got it, I saw Gene‘s picture on the cover. That is how it all started.” Rev. Curry sent a group text to his children about being on the cover. The daughter ordered the book and immediately spotted him. Her husband happened to hear an interview of mine and told her, “I just heard this interview, and I’m thinking about getting this book called Caste.” Linda said, “That’s the book I was telling you about with my Dad on the cover!” Gene Curry, born in 1936, worked as an engineer and served as a priest at a church in Detroit, whose rectory doors were always open to the poor. When the first black residents moved to their block, the Curry family befriended them while other whites fled. During Covid, he placed blessed ashes on the foreheads of motorists in a snowstorm at Lent. The discovery was a gorgeously full circle moment. Had the photo not wrapped around the back of the book and been positioned just so, his face would not have been visible. Had his wife not ordered the hardcover, they would never have seen his face — it was cropped out of the smaller-sized paperback. This is the time of year to honor miracles, and the things that are meant to be.
Earlier this year, out of the blue, I received a most unusual query about the cover of Caste — and its landmark photo of hundreds of real-life people from all walks of life. A woman in California, Linda Sokolnicki, reached out wanting to know where the photo was taken because she saw her father’s face in it. The photo shows some of the quarter million people gathered at the 1963 March on Washington where MLK delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech. I asked her which man was her father, and she sent me an image of the book with a circle around a man with a heart-shaped face in a priest’s collar. She said her father, Gene Curry, was a retired Episcopal priest in Michigan, a gentle and humble man who was up in years now at 88 and that his health and memory were not what they once were. The discovery began with his wife, Ruth. A friend of hers, a principal, had told her that “if I only read one book this year, this is the one I should select.” So Ruth ordered Caste. “When I got it, I saw Gene‘s picture on the cover. That is how it all started.” Rev. Curry sent a group text to his children about being on the cover. The daughter ordered the book and immediately spotted him. Her husband happened to hear an interview of mine and told her, “I just heard this interview, and I’m thinking about getting this book called Caste.” Linda said, “That’s the book I was telling you about with my Dad on the cover!” Gene Curry, born in 1936, worked as an engineer and served as a priest at a church in Detroit, whose rectory doors were always open to the poor. When the first black residents moved to their block, the Curry family befriended them while other whites fled. During Covid, he placed blessed ashes on the foreheads of motorists in a snowstorm at Lent. The discovery was a gorgeously full circle moment. Had the photo not wrapped around the back of the book and been positioned just so, his face would not have been visible. Had his wife not ordered the hardcover, they would never have seen his face — it was cropped out of the smaller-sized paperback. This is the time of year to honor miracles, and the things that are meant to be.
Anyone who has read Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents should not be surprised and likely already knows why things are unfolding as they are. In recent weeks, so many of you have turned to this book, to understand how we arrived at this inflection point, that you lifted it back onto the New York Times Best Sellers list, again. This is proof that there could be no more urgent time to understand our history and ourselves as we seek to find ways to move forward.
Anyone who has read Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents should not be surprised and likely already knows why things are unfolding as they are. In recent weeks, so many of you have turned to this book, to understand how we arrived at this inflection point, that you lifted it back onto the New York Times Best Sellers list, again. This is proof that there could be no more urgent time to understand our history and ourselves as we seek to find ways to move forward.
Anyone who has read Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents should not be surprised and likely already knows why things are unfolding as they are. In recent weeks, so many of you have turned to this book, to understand how we arrived at this inflection point, that you lifted it back onto the New York Times Best Sellers list, again. This is proof that there could be no more urgent time to understand our history and ourselves as we seek to find ways to move forward.
In times of uncertainty, we can find our footing and rise to our higher selves if we can but find a way to heed the forewarnings of history and embrace the wisdom of the ancestors. I know, from the bestsellers lists to the library holds and Amazon rankings, that many of you have been turning to books — and to Caste and to The Warmth of Other Suns in particular, to understand this moment and to summon the strength of those who have gone before us. To that end, I have been criss-crossing the country to make sure there are signed copies of Caste and Warmth available in this time of searching and introspection. Thankfully for now, Caste is at its most accessible rate ever on Amazon, and signed books are now available at the following brick-and-mortar bookstores (and their websites): — The Strand, Union Square, Manhattan — Barnes and Noble, Union Square, Manhattan — Books Are Magic, Brooklyn — Liz’s Book Bar, Brooklyn — Greenlight Bookstore, Brooklyn — Barnes & Noble, Atlanta Buckhead — Reparations Club, Los Angeles — Elliott Bay Books, Seattle This time of year, as ever, I am eternally grateful for every single reader who engages with this work and who aspires, as do I, to our highest ideals for the future of humanity and our country.
In times of uncertainty, we can find our footing and rise to our higher selves if we can but find a way to heed the forewarnings of history and embrace the wisdom of the ancestors. I know, from the bestsellers lists to the library holds and Amazon rankings, that many of you have been turning to books — and to Caste and to The Warmth of Other Suns in particular, to understand this moment and to summon the strength of those who have gone before us. To that end, I have been criss-crossing the country to make sure there are signed copies of Caste and Warmth available in this time of searching and introspection. Thankfully for now, Caste is at its most accessible rate ever on Amazon, and signed books are now available at the following brick-and-mortar bookstores (and their websites): — The Strand, Union Square, Manhattan — Barnes and Noble, Union Square, Manhattan — Books Are Magic, Brooklyn — Liz’s Book Bar, Brooklyn — Greenlight Bookstore, Brooklyn — Barnes & Noble, Atlanta Buckhead — Reparations Club, Los Angeles — Elliott Bay Books, Seattle This time of year, as ever, I am eternally grateful for every single reader who engages with this work and who aspires, as do I, to our highest ideals for the future of humanity and our country.
In times of uncertainty, we can find our footing and rise to our higher selves if we can but find a way to heed the forewarnings of history and embrace the wisdom of the ancestors. I know, from the bestsellers lists to the library holds and Amazon rankings, that many of you have been turning to books — and to Caste and to The Warmth of Other Suns in particular, to understand this moment and to summon the strength of those who have gone before us. To that end, I have been criss-crossing the country to make sure there are signed copies of Caste and Warmth available in this time of searching and introspection. Thankfully for now, Caste is at its most accessible rate ever on Amazon, and signed books are now available at the following brick-and-mortar bookstores (and their websites): — The Strand, Union Square, Manhattan — Barnes and Noble, Union Square, Manhattan — Books Are Magic, Brooklyn — Liz’s Book Bar, Brooklyn — Greenlight Bookstore, Brooklyn — Barnes & Noble, Atlanta Buckhead — Reparations Club, Los Angeles — Elliott Bay Books, Seattle This time of year, as ever, I am eternally grateful for every single reader who engages with this work and who aspires, as do I, to our highest ideals for the future of humanity and our country.
In times of uncertainty, we can find our footing and rise to our higher selves if we can but find a way to heed the forewarnings of history and embrace the wisdom of the ancestors. I know, from the bestsellers lists to the library holds and Amazon rankings, that many of you have been turning to books — and to Caste and to The Warmth of Other Suns in particular, to understand this moment and to summon the strength of those who have gone before us. To that end, I have been criss-crossing the country to make sure there are signed copies of Caste and Warmth available in this time of searching and introspection. Thankfully for now, Caste is at its most accessible rate ever on Amazon, and signed books are now available at the following brick-and-mortar bookstores (and their websites): — The Strand, Union Square, Manhattan — Barnes and Noble, Union Square, Manhattan — Books Are Magic, Brooklyn — Liz’s Book Bar, Brooklyn — Greenlight Bookstore, Brooklyn — Barnes & Noble, Atlanta Buckhead — Reparations Club, Los Angeles — Elliott Bay Books, Seattle This time of year, as ever, I am eternally grateful for every single reader who engages with this work and who aspires, as do I, to our highest ideals for the future of humanity and our country.
In times of uncertainty, we can find our footing and rise to our higher selves if we can but find a way to heed the forewarnings of history and embrace the wisdom of the ancestors. I know, from the bestsellers lists to the library holds and Amazon rankings, that many of you have been turning to books — and to Caste and to The Warmth of Other Suns in particular, to understand this moment and to summon the strength of those who have gone before us. To that end, I have been criss-crossing the country to make sure there are signed copies of Caste and Warmth available in this time of searching and introspection. Thankfully for now, Caste is at its most accessible rate ever on Amazon, and signed books are now available at the following brick-and-mortar bookstores (and their websites): — The Strand, Union Square, Manhattan — Barnes and Noble, Union Square, Manhattan — Books Are Magic, Brooklyn — Liz’s Book Bar, Brooklyn — Greenlight Bookstore, Brooklyn — Barnes & Noble, Atlanta Buckhead — Reparations Club, Los Angeles — Elliott Bay Books, Seattle This time of year, as ever, I am eternally grateful for every single reader who engages with this work and who aspires, as do I, to our highest ideals for the future of humanity and our country.
In times of uncertainty, we can find our footing and rise to our higher selves if we can but find a way to heed the forewarnings of history and embrace the wisdom of the ancestors. I know, from the bestsellers lists to the library holds and Amazon rankings, that many of you have been turning to books — and to Caste and to The Warmth of Other Suns in particular, to understand this moment and to summon the strength of those who have gone before us. To that end, I have been criss-crossing the country to make sure there are signed copies of Caste and Warmth available in this time of searching and introspection. Thankfully for now, Caste is at its most accessible rate ever on Amazon, and signed books are now available at the following brick-and-mortar bookstores (and their websites): — The Strand, Union Square, Manhattan — Barnes and Noble, Union Square, Manhattan — Books Are Magic, Brooklyn — Liz’s Book Bar, Brooklyn — Greenlight Bookstore, Brooklyn — Barnes & Noble, Atlanta Buckhead — Reparations Club, Los Angeles — Elliott Bay Books, Seattle This time of year, as ever, I am eternally grateful for every single reader who engages with this work and who aspires, as do I, to our highest ideals for the future of humanity and our country.
In times of uncertainty, we can find our footing and rise to our higher selves if we can but find a way to heed the forewarnings of history and embrace the wisdom of the ancestors. I know, from the bestsellers lists to the library holds and Amazon rankings, that many of you have been turning to books — and to Caste and to The Warmth of Other Suns in particular, to understand this moment and to summon the strength of those who have gone before us. To that end, I have been criss-crossing the country to make sure there are signed copies of Caste and Warmth available in this time of searching and introspection. Thankfully for now, Caste is at its most accessible rate ever on Amazon, and signed books are now available at the following brick-and-mortar bookstores (and their websites): — The Strand, Union Square, Manhattan — Barnes and Noble, Union Square, Manhattan — Books Are Magic, Brooklyn — Liz’s Book Bar, Brooklyn — Greenlight Bookstore, Brooklyn — Barnes & Noble, Atlanta Buckhead — Reparations Club, Los Angeles — Elliott Bay Books, Seattle This time of year, as ever, I am eternally grateful for every single reader who engages with this work and who aspires, as do I, to our highest ideals for the future of humanity and our country.
In times of uncertainty, we can find our footing and rise to our higher selves if we can but find a way to heed the forewarnings of history and embrace the wisdom of the ancestors. I know, from the bestsellers lists to the library holds and Amazon rankings, that many of you have been turning to books — and to Caste and to The Warmth of Other Suns in particular, to understand this moment and to summon the strength of those who have gone before us. To that end, I have been criss-crossing the country to make sure there are signed copies of Caste and Warmth available in this time of searching and introspection. Thankfully for now, Caste is at its most accessible rate ever on Amazon, and signed books are now available at the following brick-and-mortar bookstores (and their websites): — The Strand, Union Square, Manhattan — Barnes and Noble, Union Square, Manhattan — Books Are Magic, Brooklyn — Liz’s Book Bar, Brooklyn — Greenlight Bookstore, Brooklyn — Barnes & Noble, Atlanta Buckhead — Reparations Club, Los Angeles — Elliott Bay Books, Seattle This time of year, as ever, I am eternally grateful for every single reader who engages with this work and who aspires, as do I, to our highest ideals for the future of humanity and our country.
We are blessed to live in a time such as this, when an actor of Denzel Washington’s power and brilliance walks among us. And on this day, his 70th birthday, we honor the one of the finest actors our country has ever produced. He was born on December 28, 1954, in Mount Vernon, NY, to parents who had journeyed north during the Great Migration. His mother, Lennis, a beautician, was born in Georgia and raised in Harlem. His father, Rev. Denzel Washington Sr., was a Pentecostal minister from Virginia. Their son got early immersion in the church and in the storytelling that sprang from the South, seeing his father preach from the pulpit and his mother working in a beauty salon where stories are a form of currency. Denzel would become famous for his commanding portrayals of complex characters facing nearly insurmountable odds or at a moral crossroads, from his roles in “A Soldier’s Story” to “Malcolm X” to “Hurricane” Carter, to the role that won him his first Academy Award, that of a runaway slave-turned-soldier in “Glory.” Nominated nine times, he won a second Oscar for his portrayal of a corrupt police officer in “Training Day.” He’s currently onscreen in “Gladiator II, elevating every scene he’s in. Known for his work ethic and discipline in whatever role before him, he got his first big break, after graduating Fordham, in the role of Dr. Philip Chandler in the TV drama “St. Elsewhere.” Many roles later, he would become one of the most acclaimed actors in Hollywood and one of the most recognizable descendants of the Great Migration. It was my privilege to meet him back in 2006 while working on a piece about him for Essence magazine. He was grounded and focused with a searching intensity. I wrote that he had “no entourage with him, no handlers to run interference. It was him by himself, pushing the air with his shoulders as he jogged past tables in a hotel café and took a seat across the table from me. He smoothed his cropped hair with the palm of his hand and let loose that smile —the one that spans the full width of his face” and that has lit up millions of screens for 50 years now, enriching us all. Happy Birthday to the GOAT, Denzel Washington!
I keep being stunned at the news of the legends departing this earth. They’ve been here our entire lives, and I keep wistfully thinking they will somehow live forever, be with us always. So I gasped yet again when I heard that Nikki Giovanni, the beloved poet and visionary of the Black Arts Movement, younger sister in the circle of Baldwin and Morrison and a literary star from her early 20s onward, had passed away. How is it possible that she is gone from us? Years ago, I had the extraordinary chance to meet her. I’d gotten an unexpected message after The Warmth of Other Suns came out. It was presumably from Nikki Giovanni. Because I couldn’t imagine hearing from someone that iconic in that way, I didn’t believe it at first. It was, in fact, her — inviting me to speak at Virginia Tech, where she’d been teaching in the English Department and was spearheading the effort to bring me to campus. The day I arrived, Nikki Giovanni picked me up from baggage claim at the Roanoke airport in her BMW and drove me to campus herself. She had known every major black figure of the last half century, yet she was frank and unassuming, not one for affectation and celebrity. She told me to stop calling her Prof. Giovanni before I got there. “Please, my name is Nikki. I feel old and useless when you say ‘professor.’ Makes me want to put patches on my corduroy jacket and smoke a pipe. Not allowed!” She had made a home for herself in rural Virginia, near her birthplace of Knoxville, Tenn, where she’d been raised by her grandmother, whose death soon after Giovanni’s college graduation, had inspired her path to writing as she sought to reconcile her grief. The day of my talk, she drove me to her home, well-loved and lived-in, for a small gathering with faculty. There she held forth on the attacks on black citizens fueling Black Lives Matter and lovingly dished about Maya Angelou and James Baldwin, with whom she left us this treasured clip of their dialogue together. When she retired from teaching in 2022, she said, “You’re not dead until you’re forgotten,” in which case, she and Toni and Maya and Quincy and James Earle Jones and others we have lost, will surely live forever.
I keep being stunned at the news of the legends departing this earth. They’ve been here our entire lives, and I keep wistfully thinking they will somehow live forever, be with us always. So I gasped yet again when I heard that Nikki Giovanni, the beloved poet and visionary of the Black Arts Movement, younger sister in the circle of Baldwin and Morrison and a literary star from her early 20s onward, had passed away. How is it possible that she is gone from us? Years ago, I had the extraordinary chance to meet her. I’d gotten an unexpected message after The Warmth of Other Suns came out. It was presumably from Nikki Giovanni. Because I couldn’t imagine hearing from someone that iconic in that way, I didn’t believe it at first. It was, in fact, her — inviting me to speak at Virginia Tech, where she’d been teaching in the English Department and was spearheading the effort to bring me to campus. The day I arrived, Nikki Giovanni picked me up from baggage claim at the Roanoke airport in her BMW and drove me to campus herself. She had known every major black figure of the last half century, yet she was frank and unassuming, not one for affectation and celebrity. She told me to stop calling her Prof. Giovanni before I got there. “Please, my name is Nikki. I feel old and useless when you say ‘professor.’ Makes me want to put patches on my corduroy jacket and smoke a pipe. Not allowed!” She had made a home for herself in rural Virginia, near her birthplace of Knoxville, Tenn, where she’d been raised by her grandmother, whose death soon after Giovanni’s college graduation, had inspired her path to writing as she sought to reconcile her grief. The day of my talk, she drove me to her home, well-loved and lived-in, for a small gathering with faculty. There she held forth on the attacks on black citizens fueling Black Lives Matter and lovingly dished about Maya Angelou and James Baldwin, with whom she left us this treasured clip of their dialogue together. When she retired from teaching in 2022, she said, “You’re not dead until you’re forgotten,” in which case, she and Toni and Maya and Quincy and James Earle Jones and others we have lost, will surely live forever.
I keep being stunned at the news of the legends departing this earth. They’ve been here our entire lives, and I keep wistfully thinking they will somehow live forever, be with us always. So I gasped yet again when I heard that Nikki Giovanni, the beloved poet and visionary of the Black Arts Movement, younger sister in the circle of Baldwin and Morrison and a literary star from her early 20s onward, had passed away. How is it possible that she is gone from us? Years ago, I had the extraordinary chance to meet her. I’d gotten an unexpected message after The Warmth of Other Suns came out. It was presumably from Nikki Giovanni. Because I couldn’t imagine hearing from someone that iconic in that way, I didn’t believe it at first. It was, in fact, her — inviting me to speak at Virginia Tech, where she’d been teaching in the English Department and was spearheading the effort to bring me to campus. The day I arrived, Nikki Giovanni picked me up from baggage claim at the Roanoke airport in her BMW and drove me to campus herself. She had known every major black figure of the last half century, yet she was frank and unassuming, not one for affectation and celebrity. She told me to stop calling her Prof. Giovanni before I got there. “Please, my name is Nikki. I feel old and useless when you say ‘professor.’ Makes me want to put patches on my corduroy jacket and smoke a pipe. Not allowed!” She had made a home for herself in rural Virginia, near her birthplace of Knoxville, Tenn, where she’d been raised by her grandmother, whose death soon after Giovanni’s college graduation, had inspired her path to writing as she sought to reconcile her grief. The day of my talk, she drove me to her home, well-loved and lived-in, for a small gathering with faculty. There she held forth on the attacks on black citizens fueling Black Lives Matter and lovingly dished about Maya Angelou and James Baldwin, with whom she left us this treasured clip of their dialogue together. When she retired from teaching in 2022, she said, “You’re not dead until you’re forgotten,” in which case, she and Toni and Maya and Quincy and James Earle Jones and others we have lost, will surely live forever.
