The Transylvania Times -

Editor’s Note: This column is written for Black History month.

He was exiting the passenger ramp at Midway Airport in Chicago. “There’s Henry Aaron!” I spoke.

My mother-in-law, whom we had just greeted after her flight from Atlanta, sprang into action as he approached, and asked for Aaron’s autograph. I scrambled for a piece of paper in my wallet. He patiently waited until I could find something for him to write on, signed his name and left to catch up with his teammates.

I noticed he was tall, muscular, well dressed in a blue seersucker suit. Even then I sensed what many say...