Growing up in Harlem, I had the chance to practice with a Negro League team. At fifteen, I was over six feet tall and a fair athlete, but my skills didn't come close to some of the players I saw.

As a child I wanted to be a professional athlete or lawyer.

One of the lessons learned during the Vietnam War was that the depiction of wounded soldiers, of coffins stacked higher than their living guards, had a negative effect on the viewing public. The military in Iraq specifically banned the photographing of wounded soldiers and coffins, thus sanitizing this terrible and bloody conflict.

When we think of war, the tendency is to picture young soldiers only in their military roles. To a large extent this dehumanizes the soldiers and makes it easier for society to commit them to combat.

When I was 12 years old, I went to Natchitoches, La.; it was summer vacation with my family. We visited a plantation, Melrose. And I met an Afro-American woman who was a painter. I already had some idea of what I wanted to do in life, and one of the things that interested me was painting.

I wish I had better contact with my family.

I didn't want to go to school, because I wanted to be an artist, and they were never going to teach me art. None of my family had ever done that kind of stuff either.

My mother had me when she was 16, and that was an issue that had to be dealt with. She grew up in a very religious background, and there was a lot of discussion of what they should do with this unborn child. But here I am, and thank goodness.