The kind you’re born with, the kind you choose, the kind that teach Catholic school
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As a fierce young black woman in the sixties, I devoured James Baldwin’s work. Four decades later, coming across the excerpt from “Sonny’s Blues” in the Dog-Eared Page [March 2011] was like reading it for the first time: the power and beauty, the imagery and depth of his . . . musicwords. This piece alone makes my subscription worthwhile.