Please Say a Prayer For My Man, Alex the Great. He's Got IT.

Alex and Me at the Book Launch Party for "The Booster" in '19

When he picked up the phone, after the fifth ring, I didn't recognize his voice. And that's saying something, because I can call to mind that voice  –– so warm and round, so sonorous and articulate –– anytime I think of him.

I posted some goofy photo on Facebook the other day that made vague reference to the coronavirus, and among the comments was a totally unexpected response from Alex Kimbrough's wife, Rosalind. It simply said, "Call Your Buddy Alex!"

These days, when anybody says "Call your buddy" who lives in disease devastated Detroit, you do it.

So I did.

And he does.

They say it's only a daily, brain-numbing drumbeat of numbers, advisories and Trump denials until someone you love is stricken by "the virus." And I see now that it's true.

Because while I have been moved by the recent deaths of distant friends and notable names in my former Detroit home, people like the amazing drama educator and devotee Brenda Perryman, former Aretha Franklin intimate Willie Wilkerson, and legendary restaurateur Otis Knapp ("Mr. FoFo") Lee, this is now a entirely different dimension entirely.

Because you see, Alex Kimbrough is my boy, in that inflection African American men use to describe another man who inhabits his innermost circle.

And Alex Kimbrough has COVID-19.

I suppose Rosalind wanted her husband to tell me himself. My late afternoon call woke him up, which was not completely uncommon: as morning news director for Detroit's FOX2 (WJBK) for as long as anyone can remember, more than 30 years at the station in all, his workday typically begins in the wee small hours.

But once I sensed that his weak, gravelly speech was more than the sound of someone being awakened from a deep slumber, I immediately felt guilty. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. My own breathing was becoming sporadic.

"She didn't tell you?" Alex asked me. "Well, it's good to hear your voice."

He doesn't know when or where he contracted the illness, but who does? He had just been released after spending five days at Providence Hospital, and never needed to go on a ventilator. Thank heaven for all blessings, great and small.

Alex in His Element, Here Directing Aretha's Funeral Coverage

But Alex almost was at a loss for words –– which for him would be literally unheard of –– when trying to describe how much pain he was, and continues to be, in.

"It's worse than the worst flu you could ever have," he rasped. "Don't get this, Jim. Do NOT get this. You don't want this."

Alex said the higher-ups at FOX2 have advised him to take all the time he needs to recover, to not even think about returning to the control room until he feels 100 percent. Wise decision. The station wants to protect one of their, and Detroit's, great natural resources.

In addition to his work at WJBK, in his "spare time" Alex has freelanced directing programs for Detroit Public Television (WTVS) for more than 20 years, and freely lends his talents to other Metro Detroit productions as well. For a brief period he even worked for the Detroit Lions. When Aretha Franklin's sudden death in 2018 left local and national broadcast outlets without someone to coordinate the TV media pool, Alex was recruited to spearhead the coverage, more than eight hours live and nonstop.

He is so highly regarded by his peers that he has served as president of the National Association of Black Journalists' (NABJ) Detroit chapter, vice president of the local branch of NATAS (National Association of Television Arts and Sciences, the Emmy people), and has long been active in the local chapter of the Directors' Guild of America.

And you would be hard-pressed to find a more devoted or passionate alum of Detroit's famed Cass Technical High School: Alex's regular "Cass Tech Moments," usually connected to a fellow grad who appeared on a FOX2 morning show, are the stuff of social media lore. His proposed documentary on Cass Tech, which he's been working on almost as long as I've known him, has become a permanent agenda item whenever we talk.

And atop it all, Alex Kimbrough is a loyal and loving husband to Rosalind, and a doting dad to their only son, Brandon. He's been a BMW –– Black Man Working –– for an entire career, committed to providing for his family. He's just a good brother.

And now here he is, recovering from the menace that has gripped the nation and virtually ground America to a halt. An African American man fighting to regain his manhood in an epicenter of the epidemic that seems to disproportionately impact Detroit's black people. Damn.

I almost feel guilty or selfish asking you to pray for someone who appears to be on the back end of coronavirus when so many have lost so many to this disastrous pandemic. However, like I said, the abstract becomes achingly real when it suddenly affects someone you know and care about.

So, if you are so inclined on this Good Friday, and beyond, please ask God to lay His healing hand on Alex Kimbrough and help him to make a full recovery.

After all, who else is going to finish that Cass Tech documentary?