Category: Columns

by Ernie McCray

Oh, I can’t keep my mind off my baby,
off my girl,
off the best thing that’s happened to me
in this world.
And to keep her
from having died in vain,
I’ll try to answer a question
that’s been asked of me
again and again: “Why? Why did Nancy choose to die?”

The question is always posed by someone who: knows that Nancy loved them as they loved her; has seen with their own eyes that her family was the joy of her life; feels she had many more miles of waterways to swim and trails to hike, pictures to take and more wounded or abandoned animals to save or sick and shut in friends to tend to.

by Ernie McCray
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Trying to proceed with life after losing my Nancy has been like climbing out of a steep wet muddy hole wearing slippery shoes. What did I ever do to the universe to have to sing these blues?

But, as I’ve always done to keep from going insane, I’ve been writing to ease my pain. Not long ago I took part in an exercise at a writers workshop wherein we put down our thoughts about: “Things That Make Life Worth Living.”

by Ernie McCray
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I feel like Arsenio Hall because everywhere I roam I see things that make me go: “Hmmm.” Like these crazy people I’ve seen on TV. You know the ones, they’re all blue in the face, looking scarily Incredible Hulkish, some of them without a shred of insurance, shrieking at a man who has: put keeping them healthy and well so they don’t have to foreclose on their American Dreams high up on his list of things to do.

by Ernie McCray

On July 31st, in an effort to get on with my life after the death of my precious soul mate, I wrote in my journal: “I’m on my way down a long highway, trying to make my way to something faraway called normalcy where I used to live before the tragedy. But I’ll get there. Just you wait and see.”

By Ernie McCray

(An Old Man Just Sharing Good Memories Sparked by a Picture)

The house I live in was built in 1911 of some pretty sturdy wood; it had to be with twin girls traveling up and down its stairs in various teenage moods and posing like Tyra Banks in a photo shoot on its roof; it had to be with a boy, like a descendant of the Eveready Energizer Bunny, bouncing off its walls and floors and ceilings like a racquetball until we shipped him off to Long Beach State with a great big “Whew!”; it had to be with a mom and dad pacing back and forth on its carpets wondering aloud: “Whose Idea was it to have kids?”

by Ernie McCray

My old Latino friends from John Spring Junior High, back in Tucson, must be bursting with pride as Sonia Sotomayor closes in on a seat on the Supreme Court – just as I’ve been riding high knowing there’s a brother in the White House.

by Ernie McCray

I’m enjoying the honor of helping organize the African American Male Intergenerational Conference that will be held on June 5th and 6th at the Educational Cultural Complex.

The experience has made me think of all the identities I’ve answered to in my 71 years. I entered the world a little colored baby boy and before I could say Jack Robinson, voila, I was a Negro.

by Ernie McCray

Now that the hullabaloo is over regarding what Obama has or hasn’t accomplished during his first 100 days, I’m just stoked that he’s still maintaining his cool. I can’t help but be impressed by coolness.

Growing up black in Tucson in the 40’s and 50’s, it sometimes seemed that being cool was …

by Ernie McCray

Dear Secretary Napolitano:

I write this letter because Alan Bersin is rumored to be on a short list of people who seek to run the U.S. Customs and Border Protection Agency. If I didn’t say anything against the possibility of him rising to such a position I would feel as though I was letting my fellow citizens down, especially in light of the faith that so many, like me, have placed in President Barack Obama.