Racism Kindling.

Artist’s personal collection

My son raced to the front closet in the narrow entryway of our condo. I caught flashes of the “Korean Space Jams,” he calls them, fly about. The way happy six year old boys put shoes on when they know they’re going to the local trampoline park on a Saturday night never ceases to fill my heart with joy. The little turquoise sneakers with button like graphics of generic Space Jam like figurines along the side panels danced through the air. A foot there, a leg there…