Ebony And Ivory

July 12, 2010 at 10:18 PM | Posted in Journal | 1 Comment
  Detroit works for a food-service company that does the school lunches for a predominantly black school district in the norf side of town.  She is one of the very few white people who work there.
  Saturday was the work picnic.
  It was a relatively good time.  Andre (actually a woman) did all the cooking, and then Detroit and I showed up early to help her finish up, transport everything from the high school to the elementary school where they have a pavilion to host it, and set everything up.  Andre is so funny.  And I swear, she reminds me of an older, chunkier, and whiter version of my older daughter Melissa.
  And clean up everything afterwards.
  It seems this always happens to me, and to Detroit also.  We didn’t volunteer, it just happens, and we end up doing a lot of work. 
  Some of her people I had met before, and some were knew.  They didn’t all look alike to me, no–but I have trouble keeping the names straight at my own family reunions, so this was hopeless.  I did talk to a few people, and I tried to make friends with this little girl.  The girl was about two, but looked like she was one and a half because black people always look younger than they really are.  Detroit works with the little girl’s great grandmother, which means she is about 45.
  I wasn’t feeling especially gregarious that day–I had a lot on my mind, plus I felt like the token white guy…because I was.  I sat back and watched Detroit mingle with her people.  She knew them all, and talked and laughed with them, and they all seem to love her and accept her.  This is what racial harmony is supposed to be about, not the shit that Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton are peddling.
  I wonder how Dad would feel, knowing I’m going to marry a black woman…
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  1. the little girl is 13 months old and Great Grandma is 61. And Great Grandma said one of the greatest things to me I\’ve ever been told by anyone… "I forgot you were white", which doesn\’t mean she thought I was black, just that color wasn\’t an issue. Trust me, not everyone there loves and accepts me, and it has nothing to do with color.


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