I wish I had some sort of answer to this situation that tears at our families, friends, neighbors and country Manny. I think it comes from years of exposure to racist activities and behavior, real and perceived. I’m not sure about everyone else, but the racial divide was painful for me during my early childhood. In the early post WW2 1950’s my family lived in naval base apartments in Oakland, California. We were poor, like everyone there. In my first and second grade my clearest memories were of racist realities. I was one of very few white kids at school. We had moved there from Canada and I was too young to understand what was happening to me or why. On most days, if one of my parents didn’t come a meet me, I had to run home from school…and I do mean run… to avoid a group of black kids who thought it some sort of fun to torment the skinny little white kid, with words and threats and sometimes even physical pain. It was hard on me and my family. On more than on occasion I was chased and hit with a piece of garden hose. One day it was so bad that I had to go to the clinic to check to assure nothing was broken. Eventually we were forced to move away.

I don’t tell this story very often, and this is the first time I have told it publicly. What life has taught me along my journey since then however is that the fact that those boys were black is irrelevant. I have met plenty of people that displayed their sort of ignorance that were not black, but white, or brown or every skin color you can think of. I learned that the problem is not in the color of the skin but in the color of the heart.

Today I have many friends and family of “color”. Many are black. Many are Asian or Indian or Hispanic. Their “color” is human and they are all good people. My sense is that this is true for the vast majority of folks. It is only the outliers, the sick few, that paint the rest of us with the brush of racism.