Thankfully Alive

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, we asked the kids what they were thankful for. Their answers were startling. Many of them said, “family,” but all of them said, “I am just happy that I’m still alive.”

I know that many, if not all of us, are grateful to be alive; however, I don’t remember that being at the top of my list when I was 7 or even 15 years old. I’m continuing to understand that life for them, well it’s much different than life for me.

Dante’s family will have one less person around the table this Thanksgiving as many families around America, possibly even yours, could’ve lost a loved one this year. Yet, this situation, its different. Life is no guarantee for any of us and we know that. It’s just a much different “no guarantee” for many of these kids on Laramie and Ferdinand Street.

Dante died just outside the church. Those kids are at the church everyday walking past the very spot some of them watched Dante take his last breath. “Thankful to be alive,” yeah, I am, but it’s just a little different for them.



This is Paris (playing the drums) and several other high school students who take part in our music lessons given on Wednesday nights. Obviously I don't give them.


This is the street where many of our kids live. Ferdinand street is know to be the worst drug street in Chicago, according the the Chicago Police Department. As I left tonight there were four squad cars blocking the street in a drug search. Sadly enough, this isn't an uncommon sight.


This is my girl Shaniqua. I never thought I would meet a girl with that name and now I finally did. We like to throw around a football together.


This is Money. Yes, that's his real name. He is three years old and I have never met someone so "ghetto." He's throwing up a little sign as he gets ready to leave.


This is my boy, Monte, who gets a kick out of lowering and raising the rim while others shoot. We have a lot of similarities; he pushes things to the limit.