Black History Month

It is.

And, one repeats history if one forgets the story.

A bit of such history emerges often as I recall sitting in a clinic at Georgia and Van Dyke in Detroit the 60s.

Obviously, at least to me, I was the lone Caucasian in the waiting room.  I resisted leaving after realizing that fully. 

"No," I said to myself quietly, "learn what African-Americans experience when they may be the only Blacks in an all-White restaurant, for example, I thought.

I stayed.

And, I learned a valuable lesson that hot, summer day while I was employed at the late Saint Thomas the Apostle Parish during the summer months between my college years at Saint Mary's, Orchard Lake, MI., my alma mater.

By the way, I noticed online that the former school, church and rectory  land is for sale for $65,000 for development at Townsend and Miller where the sprawling campus thrived since 1927.  The large convent with its two stories and flat roof is the lone building still sitting there housing Boystown, I'm told.

Just happened to notice that as I seek to purchase the convent at St. Peter's Parish, Harper Woods, where I'd relish establishing a three-quarter home, SU CASA:  YOUR HOME - a Center for Addictions and Substance Abuse for working and recovering residents.

40 million US addicts are in needs of supervision and support in an epidemic this nation has yet to address fully.

That's an aside, although it is a story line of all Americans confronted by attachment disorders, and more, awaiting some closure, healing, and remission, perhaps.

Black History Month.

So much of my story is wrapped up in it.

It is.