In one of my earliest memories of my father, he doesn’t appear at all. I see only me, a girl of 5 or 6, tiptoeing down a dark hallway toward a closed door, my insides all tied up in knots.

The joy in celebrating Juneteenth is remembering how far we have come. Most of the memories of my father never cease to make me laugh. I still feel close to him, as if we just ended a phone call.

with only memories of my father-- the bitter and the sweet... ♪ but now so many years later, news arrives about my father's legacy that reopens childhood wounds and calls me back home to São ...

Our faith never waivers, our hope is endless and we are Jayhawks forever. My memories of my father, who passed away in 1969, are inseparably linked to Jayhawk basketball. 1957 was my freshman year ...