Dana Crum - Poet and Writer
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Here’s a Short Story of Mine That Was Published Years Ago

12/20/2010

2 Comments

 
My Heavenly Father
by Dana Crum

This story was published in Gumbo: An Anthology of African American Writing in 2002 and in 64 Magazine in 2000.

Picture
It's the evening after I sinned against God, and the heat so bad it seem like somebody done wrapped a coat round my shoulders even though I don't need one. I start thinking about Hell. If I go there when I die, the Devil he gon' be waiting for me and he gon' poke me with that big pitchfork he got.

I'm sitting on the steps of the porch, looking over at the houses across the street. Old people is out on their porches too, rocking in rocking chairs, fanning theyselves to keep cool. Every now and then one of 'em call across the street to somebody and ask how they doing. Them crickets done just started up their racket, and I'm thinking about what I did at church earlier today. That's when my grandma call me.

"An-DRE!" she say, her voice getting high at the end.

I put them quarters back in my pocket real fast like and look over my shoulder. "Mam?"

Read the entire story.
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Here’s an Article of Mine That Was Published Years Ago

12/6/2010

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The Odd Couple
by Dana Crum

This feature on OutKast was published in The Source in 1998.

Picture
View the PDF
Healthy thighs and hips sway as honeys prance about in tight shorts. Leaning against cars, fellas lounge in long shorts and vivid jerseys--gold or red or luminous green. They sport matching caps and the latest Nikes and Filas.

Dre, one half of OutKast, strolls through the crowd with his loping gait, wearing cut-off camouflage shorts, black soccer leggings and worn-down white Converse. He sports a football jersey too, but his is nondescript and netted and black. Under it is a white T-shirt. From beneath a tan safari hat he gazes out at the scene around him, his long braids dangling down his neck, the end of each capped with gleaming silver beads.

No one else at the Organized Noize-Bad Boy-sponsored picnic is dressed like him. Does the crowd reject him? Is he an outcast amongst his fellow African-Americans? No. They give him love. Every few seconds another brother reaches out to shake his hand. Every few seconds another smiling sister approaches, holding a camera, asking if he'll take a picture with her.

Not everyone who encounters Dre is so open-minded, though. The next day, at the Smokin' Grooves concert, flocks of fans greet him with homage, but one cat glares at him as though personally offended by his choice of clothes. Dre seems to notice. But he doesn't register a reaction.

Read the entire article.
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