When Linsey Davis’ seven-year-old son came home in a huff, asking, “Why do my friends have two grandpas and two grandmas, and I don’t?” She knew she had some explaining to do.

Emmy Award-winning news correspondent, anchor of ABC News Live Prime and World News Tonight Weekend, best-selling author Linsey Davis came out with a new release titled, “How High Is Heaven?”

An uplifting and imaginative children’s book inspired by a moving personal experience she had with her son, this story gives hope and comfort to young readers that there is heaven on earth, and it’s open to us all.

In times of COVID-19, many parents are challenged with the heavy task of explaining grief and loss to their young children. As a mother, Davis knew first-hand how important, yet puzzling, conversations like this would be not just with her son, but also many children like him.

The story came to life after her son became infatuated with the heavy question of, “Where’s Grandma P (his paternal grandmother)?” Davis was forced to explain the philosophy of God and heaven.

“I showed him pictures of Grandma, and pictures of them together, but he said ‘No, I want to go see Grandma! I want to go to heaven!’

He had this real preoccupation with going to heaven to see Grandma P,” Davis reminisced.

Fast-forward a few weeks, while on a plane, Davis’ son’s frustrations about where Grandma P was, arrived again.

“I just immediately decided that death and heaven and what happens before you die is a complicated conversation, but kids are curious and they ask questions, so I knew it was something I needed to write about.”

A woman of strong faith, Davis believes that heaven is a place all can look forward to while living their best lives, and that we can find moments of heaven here on earth. This is something she passed on to her son, giving him much comfort.

“Now more than ever than ever, kids need to have this understanding [of God and heaven] on some level to offer them some kind of solace.

These are people they love and saw every day, and the book doesn’t get into it in a deep way, but it’s a palatable way that allows children to understand.”

The story shows vibrant and whimsical art such as a little boy using Legos to build a staircase to heaven, or him trying to bounce his way there on a pogo stick and trampoline.

However, at the arch of the book the boy finds out, in church, how one reaches heaven’s gates.

Davis explained that “for now, he can enjoy the fact that there’s little bits of heaven on earth, and rest assured that he’ll see his grandmother one day.”

When asked why she believes loss is importance to explain to children, Davis touched base on how present loss is during these times.

“[Children] are experiencing it. You have to be able to explain it in a way that opens conversation and offers comfort…there are certainly some ramifications for this new generation of more than 200,000 kids who will grow up without a primary caretaker. We have to address this in some way.”

This book is a part of a multiple-prong approach for children to understand death and loss.

The idea of heaven gives comfort that they will see their loved ones again.

Davis also discussed the difficulty that adults may have with explaining this to children in the process of grieving themselves.

“It’s really tough when you’re a parent dealing with loss, but I think you have to be honest about what you’re feeling.

If you’re crying, I don’t think they need to be shielded from it all the time.

They can get a glimpse of it and understand if you’re feeling sad, you need to release. It’s okay to be authentic about your experience.”

In times of grief, Davis believes it’s important for parents to show children optimism.

Having a belief system can help because people often need something that shows they can get through tough times. 

“You have to show that we push through, and that things will work out.

The idea that you now have a guardian angel once someone is gone can be a very reassuring message.”

In terms of her own healing, writing “How High is Heaven?” provided an outlet for the news correspondent to escape hard times.

“Writing children’s books is uplifting. It’s a way to tell good news in a happy space, when my day job is heavy.

So, this has been a bit of a relief for me in the midst of reporting death, fear, and sadness in the news.”

The book will delight readers, young and old, with its engaging art, read-a-loud rhymes, and a message that give thanks to God’s grace, while describing temporary feelings of heaven on earth.

“How High is Heaven?” hit shelves and online retailers on February 15.

Former NFL player Warrick Dunn is celebrating a significant milestone for his foundation, Warrick Dunn Charities, as he presented his 200th home to first-time homeowner Fellicia Miller and her 13-year-old-son in Los Angeles, California.

Dunn is a retired American football running back who completed twelve seasons in the National Football League (NFL). Following college football at Florida State, he was selected in the 1997 NFL Draft by the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.

Dunn was awarded the Associated Press NFL Offensive Rookie of the Year in 1997 and was nominated to three Pro Bowls within his career. Dunn obtained a minority stake in the Falcons' ownership group run after his playing career.

According to Datausa, out of 10 million Angelenos, there is a 45.4 percent ownership rate. The average property value in Los Angeles County was $644,100.

The 200th home surprise was delivered to lifelong Los Angeles resident Fellicia and her 13-year-old son.

A program coordinator with the Salvation Army, Fellicia has worked tirelessly during the pandemic to give back to the community, providing essential food and clothing to those in need.

Prior to securing her new home through Habitat for Humanity, Fellicia and her son shared a bedroom in a cramped one bedroom apartment.

Today is the day that Fellicia and her son will begin sleeping in their own beds, in their first ever home. 

For close to 25 years, Warrick Dunn has been working to assist single parents achieve first time home ownership.

His motivation comes from the loss of his mother, Betty Smothers, who was murdered during a robbery as she worked off-duty as a Baton Rouge police officer. Dunn was just 18 years old and the oldest of five children, and was being recruited to play college football at the time.

He would eventually play football at Florida State and join the NFL to play for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and Atlanta Falcons.

Today was special for the former running back and he thanked his Board, sponsors and supporters for helping him realize the dream his Mother had but was not able to achieve.

“I’ve learned about the serious problem of affordable housing and we’re trying to be resourceful for those looking to strengthen their lives by leaving the cycle of poverty for a better life.” said Warrick Dunn.

When Ms. Miller arrived to her home, she thought it would be an uneventful closing but the crowd of sponsors, supporters and news crews gave her a hint that something unusual was about to happen.

Working with Habitat for Humanity of Los Angeles she recognized some faces from her sweat equity hours but when she met Dunn and was escorted to her front porch, she was surrounded by a sea of people and was not exactly clear about what was about to happen.

After Dunn handed her the keys to the front door, she walked through to find an entirely furnished home, thanks in large part to the 18-year-partnership of WDC and Aaron’s Furniture.

Beyond the living room was a stocked kitchen, a dining table and upstairs were bedrooms completely catering to the color and taste of the single mom and her game-loving son.

“What is this? Will you be coming to take this back?” Fellicia Miller asked as she tearfully toured her new home with her son following closely.

In total WDC has helped 200 single parents and 541 dependents begin new lives within the comfort and safety of their own home.

Entering its 25th year, Warrick Dunn Charities' "Homes for the Holidays" program rewards single parents who are actively working to achieve first-time homeownership by alleviating the additional financial burdens that can come with establishing a new home.

While the houses themselves are constructed and financed through Habitat for Humanity, the surprise comes when the families discover they are fully furnished and stocked by Aaron's, in addition to receiving $5,000 in down-payment assistance from Warrick Dunn Charities and its sponsors.

Driven by the Founder's journey through life, Warrick Dunn Charities, Inc. encourage families to end the cycle of generational poverty and elevate everyone's wellbeing.

"Homes for the Holidays" joined forces with community organizations to support single parent homes by furnishing their new place, providing down payment support, and supplying the kitchen with food and other necessities.

Throughout 1997, "Homes for the Holidays" has celebrated 200 single parent families who became homeowners for the very first time.

Warrick Dunn Charities, Inc. has established three initiatives to their trademark Homes for the Holidays initiative: Count on Your Future, SCULPT, and Hearts for Community Service Scholarships.

These four projects collaborate to create communities and empower neighborhoods by fighting poverty, malnutrition, and strengthening their academic, social, and cultural well-being. Visit www.wdc.org for more information.

Like seeing the deep lines in the face of an old woman who was once the beautiful belle of some forgotten cotillion in another age, it’s hard to stroll along Central Avenue today and picture the way it was in its heyday.

When was its heyday?

Exact dates are hard to come by. Maybe there never was a heyday. Merely a geographical illusion, which existed in the minds of the Negro in Los Angeles in his search for better living conditions.

Historians, however, would probably agree that Central Avenue flourished between the late 1920s and the end of the World War II.

Central Avenue was never just a street!

It was a state of mind, a whole community, a way of life and a sociological adventure.

It was New York’s Harlem, Chicago’s South Side, and the back-o-town sections of Birmingham, Dallas and New Orleans rolled into one.

Central Avenue was a gay cluster of nightclubs, cafes and dance halls attracting the leisure moments of a depression-ridden people who were in the process of surmounting some of the greatest obstacles ever faced by a people any place.

It was a community of shady, pepper-tree-lined streets – streets on which resided a cross-section of Americana of the times. A wealthy Jewish family, who could afford to send their son to exclusive Black-Foxe Military Academy, lived in what is now the 900 block of 42nd Place.

A top executive of one of the nation’s foremost Negro insurance firms of today lived across the street. Maids, laborers, postal employees and a nightclub dancer – both Negro and Caucasian – lived on the same street.

The area, too, was one of extreme prejudice. The old Tivoli Theatre, located on the spot of the current Bill Robinson Theatre, for a number of years had a policy of not welcoming Negro trade.

Until Sentinel Publisher Leon H. Washington Jr. came along with his historic, “Don’t Shop Where You Can’t Work” policy, Negroes were not employed by merchants of the area.

There was great poverty, too, here, particularly until the great preparedness boom in the aircraft and shipyard industries shortly before World War II.

It was unusual to see a school-age child not wearing the drab clothing dolled out to needy families by the government.

There was a mammoth food distribution center near the intersection of 57th and McKinley at which families queued up for blocks to receive the surplus corn meal, flour, dried fruit and potatoes – staples which kept millions of Americans alive.

However, due to the booming film industry, which reached new financial peaks while the rest of the country went broke, Los Angeles Negroes did not suffer as much as those in other areas. There are many alive today who are living off the “looting’ privileges” domestics to film colony greats received.

There was also the WPA, later declared unconstitutional by the Supreme Court, and the butt of many jokes.

Central Avenue flourished during troubled times, but, it was also a naïve era. Probably the last true “Age of Innocence” the Negro will ever experience.

As a child, I remember the long, pleasant, Sunday afternoon strolls from church. A time when everyone dressed in their “Sunday-go-to-meetin’” clothes and exchanged pleasantries with their neighbors. An after-church malted milk was the reward for all children who minded their manners in church.

Nobody had money as we know it today and the big events were the Sunday School picnics at Lincoln Park, a neighborhood birthday party of a pal at a which ice cream and cake was a real treat.

The teen-and-twenty crowd took their “dates” to weekend dances at the old 28th Street YMCA or to the latest hit movie at the Florence Mills Theatre, long closed out of its Jefferson and Central location by the advent of television.

For the really “big spenders,” a Sunday afternoon boat ride in Westlake Park and a snack at a popular malt shop located on Central where several businesses have come and gone since the ‘30s, was “living high off the hog.”

The soda jerk at the popular stand – the name of which I’ve long forgotten – was a handsome Negro boy from Jefferson High School who made and broke celebrities by the mere fact that if he recognized you and called you by your first name, you were “in.”

Like the age he symbolized, the boy is no more. He died quite tragically in the Aleutians during World War II while on active duty with the Navy.

For those older and seeking more adult pleasures, there were dozens of nightclubs, which flourished and disappeared. The “Last Word,” the “Memo,” and the “Zanzibar,” only to mention a few.

The “Club Alabam,” located in the Dunbar Hotel, is probably the only remaining bistro, which sparkled during this era. As good as it may be today, it will never again approach its former greatness.

During the 1930s, the Club Alabam was the most famous Negro nitery on the West Coast, and one of the best known in all America. It was nothing to see carloads of Hollywood and Beverly Hills celebrities pull up in front of the club for an evening’s festivities. Through the now-departed chorus line at the bistro danced some of the real beauties of their day. Eddie “Rochester” Anderson was one of the many big names who got his start there.

What caused the decline of Central Avenue?

Like the age in which it flourished – the depression-ridden 1930s – prosperity caused the fall of Central Avenue.

The 1940 census revealed that there were 39,000 Negroes in Los Angeles.

A booming defense industry, a great period of Negro migration from other areas ignited by a peoples’ search for greater opportunities, sent that figure skyrocketing to the estimated 450,000 Negro population in the county today.

As more people came and as more opportunities opened, it was only natural that new living areas would have to be found. Some went South toward the Watts, Compton, and Willowbrook areas. 

Others West across Western Avenue, then Crenshaw, La Bea and now, even further West.

Hundreds, too, went to Pasadena, Long Beach, San Pedro and the many other small towns, which encircle the city proper.

As new areas opened, and are opening daily, new patterns of living develop shopping centers, friends, schools and ties are centered in these local areas.

There is no longer the need to confine oneself to an area like Central Avenue.

Central Avenue will always remain with us. The businesses, shops and merchants will always do a thriving business.

There will always be a need for housing, school, churches and recreational areas in the area.

But, no longer will it be “the main stem” for Los Angeles Negroes.

For those of us who remember when, it’s sad to see the old street go.

But in another way, it’s a happy sadness because it emphasizes the gains Negroes have made.

“The Main Stem” is gone, and, because of the trend in living, there will probably never be another such street for the Negro in Los Angeles.