Buying Whores for Chuck Berry and a Threat from Jerry Lee Lewis
“You work for the radio station?” he asked again.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Lewis. I’m Dr. Dave Maxwell. What can I help you with?” Little Richard walked past us, and he, too, looked frail and worn down. The Killer glared at him as he passed. The Innovator didn’t seem to notice. Jerry Lee turned his gaze back at me, his eyes smaller now, his face taut with rage.
“Can you do me a favor, boy?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t let that niggah touch my pianah.” He and his two men went on their way.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of May 6, 2017
• Saw a street cleaning vehicle dumping its contents out into a dumpster this week. I’ve never seen that before. I had always thought that whatever filth the street cleaning vehicles sucked up got turned into Mayor Ron Emanuel’s moral code.
...that when you spend time helping the truly broken—the ones who require more patience than seems reasonable—you walk away with two revelations: how much of yourself still works, and how vital the fragile thread of kindness is that holds people together.