Column by Ken Hamilton — There go I, but for the grace of God. Here, I will not get into my own personal missteps. I’ve written of them before.

However, I will say that I am particularly saddened by the death of Whitney Houston.

I had often joked in the checkout lines as I waited behind women, strange to me, as they thumbed through the tabloids and magazines on the checkout stands while awaiting their turn to pay. I’d say to them, “Don’t believe anything that you read about Whitney Houston and me in that magazine. We were just sleeping, and nothing more.” They would laugh and feel better about waiting.

Now the very talented Whitney is gone.

Many years ago, I celebrated my birthday by attending a Roberta Flack concert in Morristown, N.J., with my then 7- year-old son. Before the show, a few 20-something college students in the seats in front of us were commenting about Cissy Houston sitting in the front row to hear her friend, Roberta, perform. My son asked me if he could get Cissy’s autograph.

Kenneth was the youngest person there, but without hesitation, he marched right to the front of the theater, asked Houston if she was Whitney’s mother and then asked her for an autograph. She graciously gave it to him. I only wish that I had gone with him.

Nonetheless, none of us who avail ourselves are all that far from greatness — that far from Roberta Flack, or from Cissy Houston or from her daughter Whitney.

Likewise, none of us are that far away from Whitney’s destiny, either. We can laugh and feel better, or shed a tear and feel badly while we wait. Either way, “There go I, but for the grace of God.”

Mary Witherspoon

For a very short time, I am going to come down off Mt. Crumpit — where the Grinch and I normally write our columns, and take a stroll through the proverbial “Whoville” to talk about a very special person. Mary Witherspoon, NFPD’s Senior Communications Dispatcher was introduced to you in this week’s Black History Month article.

I have long known that one of the best places in academia to learn is in being the teacher in the classroom; but it came as a surprise to me that an equally good place to do so is in those caves on Mt. Crumpit writing about good and interesting people.

For many years, I have written on the opinion page in the Gazette; and because it is opinion, I have the freedom to write about what I wanted to write and how I wanted to write it.

But, under the excellent tutelage of Gazette features editor Michele DeLuca — still a challenging work in progress — I had to learn a different way of writing for the other pages of the newspaper.

While I normally write to inform and change the minds of others, in writing about Mary Witherspoon, it actually touched and changed me a bit more so that other stories. It may have even made my heart to grow, like did the Grinch’s, three sizes larger.

Mary experienced adversities through which I don’t wish even upon my worst enemies, and yet, through it all, she maintained a love and concern for the one that had inflicted such pain. If you have not read it, then you should read the story in Tuesday’s Gazette’s. It’s also on the Gazette’s homepage.

As a result of Mary’s example, I instantly felt myself more understanding and forgiving of individuals shortcomings.

Note: I said ‘individuals’, not necessarily politicians and other quasi-government officials.

So likely for the duration of Black History Month, I’ll play as nicely as a little lamb in this column: but warning, March may come in like a lion.

BBA and the BABJ

This is black History Month. But to be fair, I wanted to mention that I am one of the few black members of the Buffalo Broadcasters Association, as well as being a member of the Buffalo Association of Black Journalist.

When it comes to history, black or otherwise, there are only four kinds of people: People who make history, people who record or report history, people who read, see or hear about history or those people who don’t even know that their ignorance will soon make them history.

As African Americans, we often complain about the news, or the lack thereof, that we get. We complain about our history being lost, stolen or strayed. But, like with all things, we must remember that we have a responsibility to create and to have those who are sensitive to our unique issues at every table where those issues are being discussed — be they educational, business, political (in all parties) or whatever. And that person at those tables may have to be, well, YOU.

Currently, BABJ is looking for young people — high school and college-aged — who would be interested in exploring the world of journalism. And yes, we have white students participating in our programs, too.

If you are interested in being tutored by the professional journalist that you see, hear and read in the Buffalo market, then send me an email and let’s jumpstart your career.

If you don’t respond, then simply don’t complain. It’s up to you.

Contact Ken Hamilton at kenhamilton930@aol.com.