The Souls of Poets

What a Hiatus From Social Media Can Do

by©️Leslye Joy Allen

I have taken brief three to four-day hiatuses from all forms of social and electronic media before and been rejuvenated and recalibrated. I still remember a psychiatrist who openly questioned whether 24 hour news or 24 hour headlines and blurbs online were healthy or whether they really got a message out. That was about 20 years ago.

I have watched stories that trend for days and even weeks. Anything repeated long and often enough can usually be memorized or even absorbed, but whether you understand it intricately or not remains to be seen. Whether you feel anything after a certain point also remains to be seen. 

I need not be told that our current sitting president is a racist and a sexist and a sexual predator and a crazy man for the got-damned 10,000th time when slightly over half the population that voted in this country voted for him. He is an easy topic because he’s a shock show designed to distract. You may learn something new that just happened, but I never learn anything new about him. He was an abomination beneath being classified as human when I first learned anything about him back in 1989.  He was then, and remains, like so many of the soulless, including those who never knew and still don’t know that they never had a soul.

When someone decided to try to be a copycat of my Substack account on Monday, September 14, 2026, several wonderful people on Substack jumped into gear to report the imposter; and soon the duplicate was gone. Yet, after taking some days away from all social media my brain processed the offense differently. 

Some people hack, copy, falsify, pretend and troll much of the time for kicks; and to get jobs (hackers get hired); and to breach people’s bank accounts; and also because they have little else to do. They duplicate pages and names and images, but my gray matter—my brain belongs to me. 

I spoke with an old boyfriend from high school a few days after the incident who said, “If I put on a blindfold and someone read me two paragraphs of yours, I would know it was you.” We laughed and reminisced about when we were both young and inquisitive and now we are much older and inquisitive.  Aging is a blessing denied to many people. Good memories are also denied, as so many folks never have any because they never go offline long enough to make any.

When I hung up the phone it occurred to me that I never liked, loved or befriended any boy or man that didn’t have the soul of a poet whether he could write poetry or not. To be able to or just to want to be able to take a phrase that, on the surface, seems abstract and make it mean something else or several something else’s is a gift, a gift that requires that you not just look at the world and your circumstances, but that you have the capacity to see the beauty or joy or even the sadness or terror in those circumstances. 

My quartet of college English professors: Dr. Waqas Ahmad Khwaja, Dr. Willie Tolliver, Dr. Christine Cozzens and Dr. Steven Guthrie taught me that a historian was a much better historian if that historian loved or could write poetry or fiction. The idiosyncrasies of being a human being are detailed, clothed and disrobed in haiku, sonnets, odes, elegies, cinquain, and free verse the way a couple whose marriage is over, but who cannot completely let go, so they create an ongoing argument, a conflict that lasts their lifetimes just so they can hold on to a piece of what can no longer be.

While away from the grind of scrolling on social media I finished reading three books and one stage play that was so good I couldn’t put it down. I peeked out my window long enough to watch my neighbors’ two small children giggling and playing with their two dogs in their front yard. A father and daughter passed by on their bicycles.

Then when I returned to the internet I saw a headline from a three-day-old news story where the U. S. Military used A. I. to write a report that, in error caused the United States military to begin preparations to militarily strike China and/or to prepare itself to be struck by China. Whatever. The cataclysm was averted. For a nanosecond I felt fear.

Then my fear completely disappeared because the job was done. I have written this before, but this oxymoron bears repeating: Anything intelligent cannot be artificial; and anything artificial cannot be intelligent. The underlying purpose of A. I. is confusion and fear, to convince citizens that machines and algorithms can wreak havoc in a split second. The constructors of A. I. are in testing mode—one week it may pose a threat to a forest, a water supply, a military base, a foreign enemy, or to a specific group of people. 

Then after enough non-thinking humans are reasonably subdued to the whims of A.I., the plans to make it safer, less invasive will come along. Jobs will be offered where those who are employed can deliver well-crafted messages about how it is now under control with dozens of benefits to humans that no one realized in its infancy. 

The only problem is that the ones who crafted A.I., who designed it, who will propagate it and implant its alleged benefits and its alleged problems in susceptible brains will not be creators who are able to write a poem or even murmur a few words and phrases that come from the heart or the gut. Emotions, perhaps even love itself, could be rendered suspect because love has never followed a formula. 

If there are any deaths that could come from the whims and malfunctions of machines, the deaths on fields of battle or the obliteration of entire towns will come much, much later, if they come at all. The first deaths will be slow, caused by the absence of the souls of poets, those that can still find their way in the dark; those that know when to refrain from saying something; those that can say it another way to make people feel better without telling a lie instead; those that can remember childhood games and youthful romances and mischief well enough to care about the young ones who will outlive them, not just care about themselves or the here and now.

©️Leslye Joy Allen

I am an Independent Historian, Oral Historian and Dramaturge. Please consider supporting my work and research with a few bucks for Coffee and Eggs via my CashApp or PayPal; or become a paid subscriber to me on Substack to help me sustain my research and commentary.

All blogs written by Leslye Joy Allen are protected by U. S. Copyright Law and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Any partial or total reference to any blog authored by Leslye Joy Allen, or any total or partial excerpt of any blog authored by Leslye Joy Allen must contain a direct reference to this hyperlink: https://leslyejoyallen.com with Leslye Joy Allen clearly stated as the author.  Postings or blogs placed here by other writers should clearly reference those writers.  All Rights Reserved.

Democratic Socialists Rising: A View from My Atlanta

by©️Leslye Joy Allen

(Mathewos Samson, Georgia House District 58 Representative-elect with his parents.)

Before I do another happy dance over the victory of Democratic Socialist Mathewos Samson who, as of this writing, is the state of Georgia’s House Representative-elect of District 58, let me quickly share a few things about Democratic Socialism’s growing appeal. 

The Democratic Socialist Association’s membership is now roughly and only 100,000 members give or take a few. There are now over 250 Democratic Socialists currently holding public office. And roughly 60% of Americans under the age of 30 view socialism favorably. The uptick in interest in Democratic Socialists began in 2016, with over 90% of them elected after 2019.

Just last year in 2025 after my euphoria over Zohran Mamdani’s win as the newly elected Mayor of New York city, the Washington Examiner published an article titled “Democratic Socialists quietly capture city councils across America” giving credence to the old adage that “All Politics is Local.” It is. And you should pay attention to it.

Yet the point of and the work of the United States’ Democratic Socialists is to build from the ground up—local politics and local accountability are where the people can see the work and the attempts to get the work done. 

I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge Atlanta’s first elected Democratic Socialist Liliana Bakhtiari, a native Atlantan elected to the Atlanta City Council in 2022. A native Atlantan of Iranian descent who was raised in Southeast Atlanta, who was also the first Queer and nonbinary Muslim elected. “She/They” was followed by Kelsea Bond as the second nonbinary Democratic Socialist elected to the Atlanta City Council in November 2025. What does this mean? It means that grassroots activism is back. Mathewos Samson campaigned for her (or I should say “they/them”) back in November 2025 and Bond won.

My first introduction to the concept of Democratic Socialism came when I was in my early teens. Salvador Allende of Chile won the presidency as a socialist devoted to democracy. When he was assassinated the talk ranged from him committing suicide (not at all likely) to his being eliminated in a U.S.-backed military coup (completely likely). 

Salvador Allende’s nephew Dr. Juan Allende was my Political Science professor at Agnes Scott College. He never flinched in his moral and ethical convictions. Dr. Allende (who had a Master’s degree in theology) often called himself a “failed preacher.” It was Dr. Allende who not only introduced me to the many African syncretic religions of the Caribbean and Latin America brought here via the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, but also to the philosophy and ethics of Afro-American theologian James Cone. Dr. Allende stood firm in his belief in the sanctity of every human being having the right to live the life they saw fit.

As for the old cynics: You have every right to be cynical and to be discouraged. We are living in some very troubling times. Yet, let me remind you what young people are for. They are here to remind you that when we elders put down our batons for the last time that someone else will pick it up. 

If you are Afro-American, Afro-Latin, Afro-Caribbean and all others in the great Afro dispersion you have a duty to your ancestors to place your efforts and your faith in the young, to sit down and let them do the work, and to answer the damned telephone when they call and say “I hit a brick wall, what do you think I should do?” Your wisdom, as well as your restraint, should kick in if you have not indulged yourself in your ego and your own victimization to the point where you no longer understand that you were never intended to finish the race, only to hand over the baton. 

©️Leslye Joy Allen

I am an Independent Historian, Oral Historian and Dramaturge. Please consider supporting my work and research with a few bucks for Coffee and Eggs via my CashApp or PayPal; or become a paid subscriber to me on Substack to help me sustain my research and commentary.

All blogs written by Leslye Joy Allen are protected by U. S. Copyright Law and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Any partial or total reference to any blog authored by Leslye Joy Allen, or any total or partial excerpt of any blog authored by Leslye Joy Allen must contain a direct reference to this hyperlink: https://leslyejoyallen.com with Leslye Joy Allen clearly stated as the author.  Postings or blogs placed here by other writers should clearly reference those writers.  All Rights Reserved.

A Personal Prayer of Cuba

by ©️Leslye Joy Allen

The following below that is written in italics is partially a meditation on Cuba. It is a response I wrote to a piece about Cuba’s current crisis exacerbated by American neglect and cruelty that was written by Arturo Dominguez. A link to his exceptional article is at the very end of this essay. What’s in italics is a rumination I wrote to Arturo:

“I still remember reading that when Afro-Cuban musical artists came to perform in the United States that they had to perform in the U.S. for free. When asked why they were willing to perform for nothing, the answer was always the same: “We want to see where Dizzy Gillespie was born.”

Thanks for this report Arturo Dominguez because every time there is a sanction, a deprivation, I am reminded that no one suffers in Cuba but the people themselves. I still remember the heinous and wretched Helms-Burton Act which banned ships who docked in Cuba’s ports from docking in the United States for several months.

I remember my professors having to fly out of Atlanta to Canada and then taking a flight from some airport in Canada to Havana to do whatever research they were performing on their visits.

The United States has done nothing but made an example of Cuba as a message to other countries in Latin America and the Caribbean that says “This is how far we’ll go; this is how bad we’ll treat you, if you don’t fall in line.”

I might just turn this comment into a meditation.”

A few moments after reading Arturo’s essay I stumbled on one of my favorite thinkers Vijay Prashad who also was offering his thoughts on the viciousness of the United States government against the Cuban people because it is the people that suffer—No one else. (A link to Vijay’s essay is at the end.)

I don’t have the strength to comment on Prashad’s piece right now except that it is brilliant and accurate. I will leave it to you dear reader to examine both his and Arturo’s essays at your leisure. I have only one thing to say.

One line of my paternal family was sold as slaves from Santiago de Cuba to the mainland United States during the period of slavery in this Western hemisphere. My paternal great grandmother was born a slave named Mollie Laws. Her previous family surname was Layende. 

Like most people during the 1700s and 1800s, when one moved (or was sold) some place else the last name was changed to adapt to the new culture one was inhabiting. In the United States, it was typically expected that you Anglicize your name to something that English speakers could pronounce. So “Layende” became “Laws.”

Anyhow I used to relay my personal history to my History students in an effort to make sure that they understood that Chattel slavery took place throughout the Western world. Importantly, what we now call the United States received less than 6 percent of all the Africans transported to this hemisphere during the trans-Atlantic slave trade. The majority of Africans (around 95 percent) landed in what is now named Latin America and the Caribbean. 

I don’t have any deep analysis here about how difficult Afro-American genealogy can be. I don’t have any deep commentary about the many cultures and cultural differences that exist between all of the descendants of Africa who occupy this hemisphere except I have always known that for better or worse I belong to them.

Right after I read Arturo’s essay and then Vijay’s essay, I recalled a favorite memory from the classroom. A student whose name escapes me now came to class after Spring Break with a faded photograph he took while out on the Atlantic ocean. 

He learned that I had roots in Cuba and so did he. He pulled out this faded photo taken on the water. Far off in the distance I saw something that looked like a line stretched across the water. 

“What is that long line in the water that I see in the distance?,” I asked. 

“That line across the water in the distance is Cuba, Ms. Allen. I hope you get there someday.” 

©️Leslye Joy Allen

I am an Independent Historian, Oral Historian and Dramaturge. Please consider supporting my work and research with a few bucks for Coffee and Eggs via my CashApp or become a paid subscriber to me on Substack to help me sustain my research.

All blogs written by Leslye Joy Allen are protected by U. S. Copyright Law and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Any partial or total reference to any blog authored by Leslye Joy Allen, or any total or partial excerpt of any blog authored by Leslye Joy Allen must contain a direct reference to this hyperlink: https://leslyejoyallen.com with Leslye Joy Allen clearly stated as the author.  Postings or blogs placed here by other writers should clearly reference those writers.  All Rights Reserved.

Hyperlinks to additional articles are below photos.

(from Analysis: Cuba on the Brink)

(from Why is the United States Afraid of Cuba?)

You Don’t Just Protect, You Correct: A Teachable Epstein Moment

by ©️Leslye Joy Allen

I had to stop reading what was in this recent release of more Epstein Files. I am not sure if I can look again because the sickness in it is far more insidious than one can stomach. I have access to all of them that can be accessed so I can access the details of more of them should I choose to do so. Don’t send me any of them, please.

Many of the men who have clamored for the release of these files have done so primarily to make political capital out of them. They don’t actually care that much about what happened to those girls. And I don’t care if they get angry about what I just wrote. 

These are the same men who rarely, if ever, confront men who have sexually violated women and who never organize as a collective group to publicly state that this behavior is wrong. They tend to just tell women and girls in their orbit how to avoid certain types of men. That is honorable, but… 

the responsibility is still left on women and girls to police men’s behavior. And before I hear that typical smokescreen that says “she should have known better than to…” please know that those kinds of statements not only prove that this heinous sexual behavior exists, but it also tacitly condones that behavior since the men in these scenarios are allegedly not responsible for their behavior because the girls and women should have expected to be violated based on their location or their appearance, not on certain men’s inability to behave themselves. 

An excited 16-year-old girl who just met her favorite male singer and who foolishly follows him up to his hotel room when he says, “I have invited a few friends up, come join us,” should not expect to be raped. He never should have invited her up for a variety of reasons—the first reason being her age and the second reason being that she is a stranger that he just met. 

An impressionable 16-year-old boy with a crush on his neighbor, a 35-year-old woman, should not expect to be forced/seduced by her because he mowed her lawn and then helped her take her groceries in the house. Importantly, his initial feelings of violation should not be replaced with congratulatory praise for his participation in the act which confuses her wrong behavior towards him as some male rite of passage for him. 

These same men crying out for Trump and his sexually perverted team members to be brought to justice are not trying to destroy or collapse the current legal system at least until they have covered their asses and the asses of men they know that might not easily swim out of the Epstein quagmire. Illegality and sexual impropriety were built into the system. It’s still there. 

(from The Arbitrary Ages of Consent: The Epstein Files by Leslye Joy Allen on Substack)

It is not that all men (or women) are potential sexual abusers; it’s just that the ability to get away with it or have it somehow described with less severity is enshrined in the very definitions and expectations of masculinity. Rape is rarely forgiven by ethical men, but excessive male sexual prowess and promiscuity often is.

So here’s where it gets dicey, particularly for women. I have several good Black male friends, most of whom I have known since elementary school. There isn’t one of them that would not protect me if they witnessed me being physically harmed in any way by anyone.

There isn’t one of them who would not go, or at least want to go, after someone they believed had assaulted me sexually. Yet, if something like that happened I would not be likely to tell them because they would either end up in jail due to a physical confrontation with my offender or they would be injured or killed for their efforts. That kind of love is gratifying; yet some of the things that kind of love can produce is scary, and it can occasionally make certain scenarios worse. So…

the real onus for ethical and righteous men is not simply protection, but correction. If men do not confront other men about their behavior, their sexism, their misogyny, their misogynoir, and their double standards then the process of bringing sex offenders to justice will always be processed first through that “Boys will be boys” lens.

(from “The Evidence of Things Not Seen” and the Epstein Files by Leslye Joy Allen on Substack)

Furthermore, a woman’s chronic need for protection from rape or other forms of assault essentially means that the problem remains chronically intact. The only way to end this is to end the manner in which men think of women and how they interact with and talk to other men; and whether they can do the most unpopular thing to do, which is: confront other men. 

Additionally, the sexual violation of boys by men and women will continue to be swept under the rug by the perverted tenets of masculinity that insist that a boy or man should be silent because to speak up about his abuse is anathema to the myth that all men are physically and psychologically strong simply because they are men. It is male sexual assault victims’ equivalent to that nonsense that says, “Big boys don’t cry.”

Every opinion, good or bad, biased or unbiased, informed or uninformed, is also a confession. Silence, when the needs of the hour demand that you speak, can be proof of cowardice or a desire to conform to the status quo or an admission that you are protecting the guilt of someone else or even your own. 

Justice for Epstein’s victims and prison time for the participants in these heinous actions is only a first step. Yet, we won’t correct the alleged norms that generated and aided and abetted Epstein and his cronies as long as their actions are seen as some anomaly rather than proof of a perpetual problem. 

©️Leslye Joy Allen

I am an Independent Historian, Oral Historian and Dramaturge. Please consider supporting my work and research with a few bucks for Coffee and Eggs via my CashApp or become a paid subscriber to me on Substack to help me sustain my research.

All blogs written by Leslye Joy Allen are protected by U. S. Copyright Law and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Any partial or total reference to any blog authored by Leslye Joy Allen, or any total or partial excerpt of any blog authored by Leslye Joy Allen must contain a direct reference to this hyperlink: https://leslyejoyallen.com with Leslye Joy Allen clearly stated as the author.  Postings or blogs placed here by other writers should clearly reference those writers.  All Rights Reserved.

The Steps Called Books

by ©️Leslye Joy Allen

For people who have been reading my posts, you may have noticed that I have written about the United States’ severe literacy crisis twice on this platform. If not, you can read them here: The USA Literacy Crisis & This Election and Literacy Crisis, Part II.

This essay is Part III. Let me point out a few things first. Some 65 years ago in 1960, the United States was one of the most literate nations in the world. In 1960, only a handful of states in this country had an illiteracy rate of 10% for people aged 14 and over. The rest of the states registered only about 3% illiteracy. Now we rank 36th in the world for literacy among industrialized nations. There are other sources that place the USA at a literacy rate much lower.

In 2025, 21% of American adults are completely illiterate while 54% of adults read below the 6th grade level. I want to share with you in this essay, however, what poor reading and writing skills look like when these circumstances are also combined with educational red tape. 

I taught College History courses for roughly 7+ years, from 2007 to early 2015. My first 2 years, I taught at a Junior College that had several campuses outside the city limits of Atlanta in the outlying metropolitan areas. My last 5 years I taught at large state universities. Junior Colleges are structured for students who have some academic deficits. Students often attend Junior Colleges to fix a deficit in some academic discipline so that they can eventually qualify to attend a four-year institution to earn a Bachelor’s degree.

When I started teaching, I taught year round. After I taught on this particular campus for about two semesters, I noticed that this campus was slowly being converted into a cash cow. The school started accepting anyone who could pay tuition and occasionally referred to students as “customers.” That did not go down well with me and a lot of other Instructors and Professors. 

Most of my History students had some problems with reading, writing, and critical thinking skills. I usually spent the first 3 weeks of every semester correcting grammar and insisting that they trust their answers and their own instincts. 

When I asked a simple question, initially none of them could state the obvious answer. I demanded that my students give complete and well-thought out answers and opinions in class discussions instead of the abbreviated and one-word answers that chronic text messaging had fostered. 

The majority of my students rose to the occasion. They did the work, read my comments, listened to my instructions and suggestions, and put in the extra time needed to get up to speed in writing and having in-depth discussions about History. I did have one student, whose identity I never knew, who complained about having to write 3 five-page long History papers. Imagine having to write 3 papers in a 16-week long semester in college.

I learned later through the grapevine that this student allegedly had an inappropriate relationship with some man in the Junior College’s administration to who that student complained. One day I was informed that I would have to attend a meeting with my Department Chair and the Ombudsman of the School. 

During the meeting, both my Department Chair and the Ombudsman kept telling me things like “Many of these students might not know how to interpret what you tell them. They might not understand what you say to them or write on their papers. One student said you told him or her that they could not write!”

I was confused and raised these points: “I have NEVER told a student that they cannot write. I have told or wrote to many of them, however, that they needed to take a good writing course so that they can improve their writing skills and get more practice writing cogent papers. Also, I speak grammatically correct English in the classroom. How can I know when a student cannot understand grammatically correct English? What type of language or techniques are you asking me to use?”

They both stopped talking for about 30 seconds. I interrupted their silence. “Are you asking me to water down my curriculum?!”  No one answered my question. They both began to reiterate how much the students might not understand what I asked students to do. I repeated the question FOUR more times. They NEVER answered my question.

When they suggested that I attend a seminar on Customer Service Skills, it was all I could do to hold my tongue. Then my Department Chair finally ruptured this charade of a meeting and asked me, “Do you want this job?”

I swallowed hard and paused for a good 20 seconds and responded, “That’s a rather loaded question, don’t you think? Obviously, when I applied for this job, I wanted and needed a job. I still do. However, anyone who might be offered a better job somewhere else would probably take the better job. That includes me too.”

When I walked out of that office, I was so angry I couldn’t see straight. The Department Chair’s secretary looked at me as I exited and said “Leslye, what did they do to you in there?! Please, please don’t look like that.” I told her I would come back later and fill her in on the details after the Department Chair went to lunch.

So, here was the dilemma. That handful of students that never had any intention of studying and improving their literacy and writing abilities were now expecting to receive passing grades when they were just as inept at the end of the semester as they were at the beginning of it. That meeting, however, was not my worst moment on that campus.

A young Black woman student emailed me and asked me, when the time came, to write her recommendation letter to Spelman College. She had sent in an application to Spelman and assumed that she would be accepted. When I checked her records, she only had a GPA of about 2.0.

Spelman College is a Historically Black College for women that has always teemed with academic brilliance. No girl graduating high school will even be considered for admission with a GPA less than a 3.5. The average GPA of students who are admitted is a 3.8. It is a highly competitive school with an admission rate of only about 34% of applicants.

I very delicately wrote to this young woman that she would need to pull her grades up in order to get into Spelman. I wrote that she should not be discouraged because, “I know you can do it if you work hard and apply yourself by taking some additional classes.” This was my attempt to tell her the hard truth without crushing her dreams or suggesting that she give up. I signed my name to the email, pressed the “Send” button, and sat and cried for about 15 minutes.

It took me years to understand that people who don’t read well or who rarely read at all constantly misinterpret the meanings in spoken and written language. They also assign their own meanings to what people say and write with little to no comprehension. They make decisions based on what they think or feel about something a person said or wrote.

That is where we are in the United States right now. We have a majority adult population that responds to most political propaganda with their emotions and assumptions, never exactly or entirely based on actual facts. Moreover, many don’t even know where or how to look for the facts. 

If the Democrats do not figure out how to reach out to semi-literate people stumbling in the dark with information they can barely decipher, then the Democrats are in danger of losing elections for the next several decades. The Political Left is also doomed to be reduced to little more than a group of well-read, but also self-righteous, ideologues that do not know how to reach the people they need to reach who don’t fit the definition of “well-read.” 

One of the things that made my home boy Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. so effective was that he was a young man with a doctorate degree who could go hang out in a pool room and shoot pool and talk trash with the men who hung out there as easily as he could address heads-of-state. He could render presidents and prime ministers speechless because he was better educated and more in-tune with what people needed than the vast majority of them. 

He could talk with ease to the poorly educated and to the best educated. For those who don’t know, Martin Luther King Jr. was an exceptional scholar who entered college at age 14 and who graduated Morehouse College at the age of 18 and had earned his doctorate by the time he was 25 years old. Kamala Harris’ Mama also had her doctorate degree by the age of 25. She was working in a laboratory when her water broke with her then soon-to-be-born first child that she named “Kamala.” 

(Photo of M.L. shooting pool in Atlanta in 1966. The tall guy on the far right in the cap and glasses was then a Morehouse College Freshman named Samuel Leroy Jackson.)

What is my point? Education and literacy matters; and its singular purpose is to help people focus on what they need to be focused on. In 1960, a man or woman in the United States with little resources knew that the public library was still free and they made good use of it. Today, our semi-literate majority adult population that cannot stay still long enough to read a 5-minute article because they are always ready to look at something that is “trending,” is what we are confronted with now. 

Long after I left the classroom, I ran into one of my former students from the Junior College where I once taught. He was attending Georgia State University and was about to graduate. Excited to run into me, he said, “I hated you back then. But you pushed me and demanded that I get the work done. Now, I can’t stop reading and doing research. I cannot read enough BOOKS!”

Hugging his neck I said, “Don’t ever stop. The more you dig the more you will know.

So, in the names of your favorite teachers, instructors and professors, please keep talking about the truths and the dangers of a largely illiterate and poor reading nation. Our welfare as a nation and as human beings depend on it.

©️Leslye Joy Allen

I was am an Independent Historian, Oral Historian and Dramaturge. Please consider supporting my work with a few bucks for Coffee and Eggs via my CashApp.

You can also subscribe to my writings on Substack and stay in the loop with the best new research, history, journalism, prose, poetry, and etcetera.

All blogs written by Leslye Joy Allen are protected by U. S. Copyright Law and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Any partial or total reference to any blog authored by Leslye Joy Allen, or any total or partial excerpt of any blog authored by Leslye Joy Allen must contain a direct reference to this hyperlink: https://leslyejoyallen.com with Leslye Joy Allen clearly stated as the author.  Postings or blogs placed here by other writers should clearly reference those writers.  All Rights Reserved.