Kholen Germany is going to be buried today; he was a good kid—a really good kid. He was shot in the shoulder with a high-powered pistol because he was “in the wrong place at the wrong time” cleaning up at a clothing store 6 blocks from my home. He died at one of the finest children’s hospitals in the world; they couldn’t put him back together the way they have done even with many Iraqi children sent here from the war zone.

Every time I think of the terror and pain he must have been in in those hours before he died, I lose it. I have lived in this neighborhood for 8 years now, and I love it—the diversity, the convenience, the wonderful, affordable old houses—but there is an invisible boundary, moving inexorably toward the street where Kholen was shot. I live on one side of the gentrification; Kholen lived on the other.

Our paths crossed by way of the school he attended, 2 blocks from me. He would have been among the many kids I waited for at the crossing as I drove out in the morning. I would have passed his artwork taped up in the hall as I went to vote these last few years. I voted yesterday. I cast my ballot for the man from Chicago in the hope that he can bring another possibility into the lives of kids like Kholen, and like the kids who killed him.



The picture of Kholen was released to the public by the family. If you share this image, please respect it.

If anyone is interested in the template I made for this, let me know.
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