Category: Columns

by Ernie McCray

When I look at this situation with Mark Zuckerberg hosting harmful bits of misinformation on his social media brands, Facebook and Tik Tok and Instagram, I think of the children who’re watching us, “We the People,” pretty much leave this problem up to him.

And, yeah, this non-caring billionaire should do something to alleviate this state of affairs but I don’t like the picture our children are seeing of us not doing much about these circumstances ourselves – since the PCs, through which we receive so much news that deceives, also allow us to get the skinny about things: the facts.

by Ernie McCray

The other day,
in my backyard
on my patio,
I got to read a poem,
and say a few things
on a video,
regarding the direction
I’d like to see the world go.
Young folks,
my favorite folks,
were in the back of my mind
as I spoke,

by Ernie McCray

I had such a lovely dream the other night.

A dream where I sat amongst beauty during a sunset.

When the sun slowly drifted over the horizon the visions began, the first one featuring a young Black man.

He was about 18 and he moved down the street, bopping and nodding to a beat coming from his earpiece, with White people all around him paying no more attention to him than anybody else on the street.

I mean everybody is perfectly at ease, no grabbing of purses like he might be a thief; nobody at the ready to call the police.

by Ernie McCray

I just ran across an article about an old friend from when I was growing up in Tucson.

Among so many things I found interesting in the piece was something he said about a place I hold dear:

Dunbar. The “Colored” school.

He said: “I’m sorry I didn’t get a good education.”

by Ernie McCray

I see the “Pro-lifers”
in the abortion conversation
with all their
“It Kills Children”
implications,
essentially
giving no
indication,
in their frustration,
that they really care about children
by any stretch of the imagination,

by Ernie McCray

I’d been anticipating the football game between the University of Arizona Wildcats, my hometown team, and the San Diego State Aztecs, my adopted town’s team.

My alma mater got creamed: 38 to 14. Oh, well, if they’ve got to lose to somebody it might as well be to a team I almost love as much as I do them.

by Ernie McCray

Recently the UT asked readers to react to where we were on 9/11 and wanted to know what went through our minds that day, and how that changed our view of the world.

I had no response because 9/11 didn’t change my view of the world as much as it validated how I see the world.

My first thought after seeing the second plane crashing into one of the twin towers of the World Trade Center was “Oh! Oh! The Pentagon is going to do something real crazy in retaliation for this!” That assumption was based on a lifetime of observing our country when it’s pissed.

by Ernie McCray

As the dental surgeon prepared me for a procedure, a mellow rendition of “What a Wonderful World” played in the background.

On a violin. What a nice sound.

When I awoke the music kept playing in my mind. Evoking memories of Louie, the great Mr. Armstrong, Satchmo, singing this song, capturing so much beauty with lines about “trees of green” and “red roses” and “skies of blue and clouds of white” and “bright blessed days” and “dark sacred nights” and “the colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky.”

As Maria drove us home, I basked in the mood Louie had me in with his images of loveliness.

And I remembered, too, lyrics in the song that spoke to the beauty inherent in human beings, “friends shaking hands saying, ‘How do you do?’”

by Ernie McCray

So, only 60% of us Americans are vaccinated to protect ourselves and everybody else from the ravages of Covid-19?

That’s a sad scene.

Know what I mean?

That’s telling a killer virus to just do its thing.

And Covid, bound by rules set down by Mother Nature (remember her?) has no choice but to run free – which it is doing incredibly, spreading like a wind fueled prairie brush fire, giving into Mother Nature’s propensity, every now and then, for thinning human populations.

by Ernie McCray

I think of
the Black thespians
of old
who,
like minors
shaking ore
in water
panning for gold,
separated
the top grades
from what might be “fool’s gold,”