The Crisis, January 1st, 2006
Kids get lost. Even in strong Black families. In 1980, my nephew, Ken, who was 14 at the time, moved from a Black, working- and middle-class neighborhood in Pittsburgh to an upscale, mostly White suburb of Austin, Texas. My parents, who were raising Ken, moved there after my father retired. Ken's mother was permanently disabled and couldn't raise him, and his father was out of the picture.
In Pittsburgh, Ken was a good kid and a star running back on his Pop Warner League football team. But in Texas, he got lost in a warren of teen transplants who medicated the pain of their disconnection with...
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