Book Of The Week
Giovanni’s Room By James Baldwin
James Baldwin, James Baldwin, James Baldwin, James Baldwin. I call his name. I remember him. I salute him. I appreciate him. I have been asked the question of who I would want to have a conversation with if I could. If you asked me today, I would say James Baldwin. Every time I read his words or hear his voice or see his face, I know that there is something that he is telling me. There is something that I am supposed to know at the moment that I am reading his work, looking at his face or listening to his voice. I often wonder if he had any down time. If he ever wasn’t thinking about the crisis of the Black Community and the condition of Civil Rights in America. I don’t know what questions I would ask. Probably none. I would want to listen to whatever he had to tell me. I would just want to hear him, actually hear him and take in what he had to share. I wouldn’t want to let him go. I know that for sure. I would want to listen forever. I close this year out with James Baldwin as a reminder that my work is nowhere near being done. Thank you, Mr. Baldwin, for not being their Negro and reminding me that I am not their Negro either.
The Writer
