THOSE WERE THE DAYS

I grew up in 50”s America. A northern state that Abraham Lincoln helped determine to would be free. I was a little confused in history classes. I read the books, I listened to the discussion and it seemed to this white boy that students were all equal at school. But there was a different picture downtown. Separate bathrooms and drinking fountains. The ‘colored” facilities were obviously inferior. Yes, we shopped together, but we didn’t pee together.

It was in college that I began to laugh at the mess we were in. It’s not that I thought anything was really funny, just bizarre. I had a brother-in-law from the Deep South that could never keep his mouth shut. I would love to have stuffed an oil soaked rag in his mouth, and lit the other end, but I really am a nice guy. Besides he was stronger than I.

Races have mixed through out history. I guess it is easier for a king to support 500 wives and 700 concubines (who uses that word anymore – women on the side). Most were political alliances but that doesn’t make it easy. Solomon got in trouble because none of those women were Jewish. King’s were required to marry only one woman of the Jewish faith. Not Solomon! He was a collector of exotic beauties.

Back to reality! I was shocked every time I heard a southern man complain about those mixed blood kids. Where do they think they came from? Which bigot was running around raping their slaves? Who made their wives angry at their husband’s activities in the slave quarters? Who made love to them, impregnated them and beat them and then hated them?

My best friend in grade school was Austin. He was black. We parted in high school for an unknown reason. Probably my fault! I have always regretted that. I tried to find him and sent letters to all the people with a matching name just to apologize. A nice letter came back from a lady in New Jersey saying she was married to Austin, but it was the wrong one. Now that I can get on line, I think that was the right Austin.

I am not done trying and someday I will succeed. Reconciliation begins with the first step. The younger generation is doing much better. I’m watching people pour by my window to go to an event in the park and it is rare to see a group of a single race. Most of the groups of kids are of mixed races. It also appears (possibly not the truth) that most of those exotic kids are of a mixed race. Not one African Black passed The Home. Some one homogenized this melting pot called America.

I know there is still plenty of intolerance. Now that I’m old, I feel it from time to time. I’m not equating the two. My first experience of even a taste of what Austin experienced came at our eighth grade class graduation party. Mrs. Deets planned for us to meet at a roller rink on Dodge. There was no school bus taking us to the event in those ancient days. We got there on our own. Austin, Robert and I went together.

While waiting in line a short stubby cigar smoking guy (looked like Danny Devito) approached and asked me to step out of line. I did and he said in a voice that my two black friends could hear. Are you with them? Yes. Well, you can come in but they can’t. But our teacher is in there and we are all suppose to come to our grad party. I don’t care what it is. They are not going in. Robert said it’s OK. You go. We’ll find something else to do. Well, I’m coming with you. They decided to go to a movie. I gulped and said OK. I was a nervous wreck since I was not permitted to attend movies. I was sure Jesus would come and I would go straight to hell. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. But that’s another story for another time.