Imagine wishing you could buy someone a tiny home, just to give them shelter from the streets. That's how I felt about Amy, a gentle soul I've known for over a decade. Her story isn't just heartbreaking; it's a wake-up call to our shared humanity. And here's the twist: this homeless woman loves Zora Neale Hurston with a passion that rivals any literary scholar. It all started on a spring morning at Depot Park in Gainesville. I was out for a 5K run when I spotted her splashing

When Strength and Grace Carried Me Through We are not alone. Strength arrived when exhaustion said, “Sit down.” Grace whispered, “Stand up.” The show had to go on, and it did. There was a set to build, a book table to decorate and prepare, and a story waiting to be told. Since December, the flu virus had left my body drained. Being tired or afraid of being tired had not been an option. The Tuesday before the Friday night Zora Neale Hurston performance , I finally surrendered

After reading Zora Neale Hurston’s Barracoon, something inside me shifted. I realized the most important Black History I can celebrate is me. I Am Black History  because I carry the DNA of survivors — men, women, and children who walked 200 miles barefoot in chains, survived the horrors of the barracoon, and endured the Middle Passage where up to 15% never made it. My DNA was packed like cargo into the belly of ships. It arrived on Sullivan’s Island, South Carolina, only to f