One of life’s lessons: Chicago’s violent legacy gets personal
Its not every day that an assignment teaches you something about your own childhood. When I was 7 years old my father, who shared my name, passed away and when I looked down today, I saw a boy, Ronnie Chambers Jr., who is about he same age as I was back then, sitting at my feet with RIP carved in the back of his hair. He was there mourning the loss of his father, who also shared the same name.