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Anthony and Danny, college students who attended Knoxville College, a proud Black school, walked into the building which I worked and said something to the effect of, "We like what we see here, and we want to be part of it." What they viewed was a space heavily under the influences of Dr. Kawanzaa Kunjufu, Sista Folami Prescott, Dolphus Weary, Dr. John Perkins and more Black grassroots community developers. If the topic interests you, you might want to start with Kunjufu's book The Conspiracy to Destroy Black Boys and Perkin's Let Justice Roll Down.

Both young men filled out an six page long application for summer camp counselor I'd come up with which detailed questions only fit for the job of Pope. Fortunately, this didn't drive away two young men perfect for the job of working with children just like the boys they'd been years before. It's saying too little to mention the tremendous power of positive role models.

I didn't realize that application day Danny and his wife Lissa were to become dear friends and neighbors of Buck and myself. I probably learned more about the life of the families I worked with from this couple than anyone else. Their little apartment in the projects and deep friendship provided an open window to reveal my own prejudice and educate me in cross cultural relationship.

On one visit to their home, I asked why Danny and Lissa didn't let their little son, Denny, play out on the playground. Instead of talking it over with me, they opened the sheers and asked me to simply observe the playground for ten minutes from their living room window. In the first minute of watching the children swing and slide outside, I asked, "Where are the adults? Why is no one supervising?" The second minute, I winced as I saw a toddler fall hard and begin to cry unattended, "Shouldn't we go help him? Where on earth is his mother?" Lissa and Danny simply asked me to keep watching. When I saw an eight year old throw a five year old girl on the ground and thrust his hips over her, imitating the sex act, I jumped up and said, "Danny, we've got to HELP!" Danny walked briskly outside with me and he asked the boy to stop and go home. "True. That boy will be back in five minutes to do the same once we step inside and stop watching. Lissa and I could potentially stand out here day and night to keep watch. So could you for that matter, but it wouldn't change what's going on long term. We are here to educate ourselves and empower those around us who don't know anything else." I cried right then and there at the injustice of that violent dwelling place for children. I later found the local public school and The Boys and Girls Club offered the same level of shameful neglect while too few adults looked on apathetically.

I asked myself the hard questions, "Am I supposed to take on these deplorable situations for children myself? Should I organize safety vigils for the schools, playgrounds, Boys and Girls Clubs? That's entirely bigger than me. So, what is MY place? How can I make a difference?" I still ask myself those questions, and it keeps my fire lit for the city and my hopes to change the world and make it a better place.

Danny and Lissa graduated with honors from college and moved into a house five streets away from mine in the 'ville. Lissa planted flower beds of tall and elegant Cana while Danny painted the house mustard yellow with black, green, and red accents. They lived and worked there till Danny died of cancer a four years ago. His son Denny, 12 years old or so at the time, helped me through my unspeakable pain and loss with his strong words from the pulpit at Danny's funeral. Denny stood erect and spoke with amazing clarity, "Everyone keeps coming up to me and saying,'I'm so sorry you lost your dad.' and I wish you would just stop it. My dad is in a better place. He's a Christian and he's with Jesus now. That's nothing to be sorry about."