A newspaper began appearing on my desk once a week soon after I arrived last summer in St Louis.

You do know that I am old school.  I do appreciate a real newspaper.  One that you can spread out on the table while munching Grape Nuts.  Coffee spills.  No problem.

The St Louis American.  “Missouri’s largest, most widely read weekly newspaper.”  Started in 1928.  The African-American community in St Louis is it’s target population.

I am liking James Ingram’s columns.  The most recent on our breakfast table titled Lynchville, Illinois in honor of this year’s 200th anniversary of a town just across the river from St Louis.Lynchville

If really in luxury mode I like to spread a print newspaper over my head as I grow drowsy and doze.  The microclimate around me is warm, soothing.  Dampening noise.  Dimming light.

Lynching is perhaps the ugliest thing about America.  It is product of a period in American history between slavery and the civil rights movement.  The nation shifting uneasily as it tried to wrap its centuries-of-slavery attitude around the new reality.   America, 1870s to 1960.  Almost a century long American tradition.

Lately I’ve driven some of the roads in Missouri.  People are pretty decent.  but then I’ll see the stars and bars.

The Cross and the Lynching TreeMuch smaller and useless in creating a warm soothing microclimate is my copy of James Cone’s The Cross and The Lynching Tree.  Instead of drowsiness, innervating.  I am awake.  I feel mournful, eloquent, hopeful.  As Good Friday approaches us, dark and silent, Lynching Tree accompanies.

How long and how much and how will justice get done?  

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