-

 Today February 1, 2022, is the actual re-issue release date of Black Lives, White Lives. And I will indulge in sharing a very personal story. Thirty years ago, when Bob was wooing and courting me, he gave me early on (August 10, 1991) a hard copy of Black Lives, White Lives.  A year later – shortly before we got married on July 12, 1992 – he inscribed it for me with the following words: 

Dear Karina: When I first gave you this book, I had known you only for three weeks. I knew I wanted to know you much much better. But I could have never dreamed how much we would learn about each other. And more importantly how I would come to love and appreciate everything about you, every new dimension of your person, spirit, and character that continually unfold before me. Of course I gave you the book originally so that you would know me, but my secret motive was that you would admire it and me, and hopefully fall in love with me! I'm glad it worked!    

With Love, 

Bobby 

(June 23, 1992)


Who would have known that I would end up being able to make a small contribution to a second life of Black Lives, White Lives. The book’s re-issue is a gift to all. And to me particularly, as it gave me the privilege to be part of passing on stories which we need to remember in order to change, grow and heal as a society. 

cover of 1989 paperback

Comments

  1. UnknownFebruary 2, 2022 at 8:47 PM

    This entry made me sob... As a PhD candidate struggling against the coldness and hardness of academia, I have always dreamed about finding those people who do critical intellectual work with such heart, and who make university environments bearable for us young people. Bob is such an inspiration for this. Thank you for continuing to share his academic work!! It is convincing me to finally write something!

    ReplyDelete
  2. KarinaFebruary 3, 2022 at 11:25 AM

    Your comment made me tear up all over again, thank you. And may your be on your way with heart and whole! We need that... urgently...

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

-
Image
  Immigration On Friday morning of September 20, I am spending a couple of hours for my naturalization interview in the federal building  on 630 Sansome Street in San Francisco  that houses the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. Then later at 1 pm, in the oath ceremony, I am reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. Standing, holding up my right hand like everyone else, repeating the words after our master of ceremonies, I am engulfed in a chorus of immigrants’ voices from all over the world. Out of maybe 80, only two are Caucasian. The man leading us through the 20 minutes ceremony, is most likely a judge, but without his robe. He is an elegant, kind, and personable elder. We can hear the genuineness in his voice, and we are genuine, too. As we pledge allegiance to this country, the English sentences might ring slightly different for each of us. In another minute we will be citizens of the United States. Something in me is expanding. I am swearing to be a responsible an...
Read more
-
Image
  Last Dance with Uncle Oak This time, to honor the loss of another member of my ancient live oaks, I want to climb into the tree. Like I used to do 32 years ago, move, touch, feel – suspended in the air, resting on bark, sensations to be remembered. Perhaps documenting it? I ask around last minute, and find a good match in photographer  Rebecca Weinstein  to take stills of my last dance with old Uncle Oak. Once my naked feet touch the rough bark, a dynamic joy starts spreading through my body and limbs. The surprising urge to elongate myself within the safety of his sturdy arms. Next morning in a different light, I dress for another chance of closeness, envisioning my smallness to be captured. The freedom to grow into a tree, become tree , get an oak’s view, blend well, and disappear eventually. Uncle Oak, has been leaning for decades, growing northward horizontally, reaching far over into the neighbor’s yard. Now that Mama Oak has left, his malaise is more apparent...
Read more
-
Image
  Looking at you… f aintly the handwriting reads:    Karina & Bob, Here’s looking at you in 1994 With best regards, Howard   Back when he studied T’ai Chi with me for a few years, Howard was already older, a fine, eccentric gentleman. And a very good and well-known artist. With a deeply philosophical side to him which made him enjoy my way of teaching the Art and Principles of this ancient practice. He’d have questions, comments, always delighted by insights, his or mine.   In the hallway I often pass his small watercolor, with its (faded by now) inscription to Bob and me. Bob’s birthday will be in three days on May 18.  If alive, my late husband – who died in October of 2016 – would turn ninety-five this year. Suddenly I feel the presence of time in my heart, swirling about back and forth, swooshing from chamber to chamber, expanding. Howard’s greeting from 1994 – thirty years later, I am now seventy, about the age he was back then.  Suddenly I am...
Read more