Today is the first anniversary of Dr. Crosby’s graduation into the land of the ancestors. I had hoped that we could have a proper celebration for the Father of Black History Month, next week, but circumstances have forced me to have to focus on the living, more than the dearly departed.
The walkout was successful. The students were reinstated and the university agreed to meet the demands of the students to create a Black Cultural Center, Office of Minority Affairs, a Black Studies Department and give the, so-called undesirable students, amnesty.
The true origins of Black History Month have been shrouded in mystery long enough. Painstaking research has revealed “Negro History Week” and Black History Month are about the same as a Cadillac and a Ford.
I’ve been saying this for years. Not only do I say it, I believe it. Truthfully, I’ve only been to Africa once, for six weeks, 50 years ago. However, that trip changed my life, forever. The things we did and saw have stuck with me, like glue. Before I went, my idea of Africa wasContinue reading “Wherever We are, Africa is There”