Excerpt:
On a chilly afternoon, along a worn shopping strip, the music legend is being greeted like the pope in Rome. As he strolls by the discount stores, the beauty-supply shops, and the vacancies pulling down Point Breeze Avenue, people drown Kenny Gamble in smiles, shouts, and handshakes.
"Hey, brother," a man calls from across the street, waving as he pushes a shopping cart toward the dreary Harvest Supermarket.
"Hey there," says Gamble, in a thick brown coat, his familiar kufi, and schoolboy glasses, his arm outstretched.
"I hope you have a blessing for me."
"I do," Gamble says, "I do."