Today proves we've come a long way since 1952

Two years ago I wrote the blog that follows. We've come a long way since then, and since the 1952 bus ride in Georgia. Today proves it.
Twenty years ago I was the speaker at a Martin Luther King Day ceremony at a church with a nearly all-black congregation. This was because I was a reporter who always remained objective and in the black community enjoyed the reputation of being fair. I mingled with the ministers and the church goers and the young men that followed a circular route that took them to and from prison and back again. I listened to them, wrote about them, sometimes sympathized with them and sometimes gave them hell. But I always worked at remaining objective, at being fair.My talk concerned a 1952 bus ride in Georgia.
It had been a rough week of infantry training at Fort Benning so I slipped away early on a Friday afternoon, hitched a ride into Columbus and boarded a Trailways bus headed for Atlanta. A couple of nights in a good hotel, a meal or two at a nice restaurant, that's what I had in mind.
I took a seat about halfway back on the right side of the bus and then sat back and relaxed, not paying much attention to anything other than the scenery outside the window. We made stops in the dusty little town of La Grange and a few other places. People got on the bus, others got off. None of the comings and goings aroused my interest.
Then out in the middle of nowhere we pulled to a stop beside the road. Looking ahead I could see a black woman and two kids, a boy and girl about eight and ten, that had flagged down the bus. They stood there for a minute or so rather than climbing aboard and then out of the corner of my eye I saw the driver standing beside me. He said, "You wanna move forward so those people can get on the bus?"
For the first time I looked around me. There were plenty of empty seats ahead but all those to the rear were filled, every one of them occupied by a black person. I looked back to the driver and said, "There's a lot of empty seats."
"Look," he replied, "either you move up front or they don't get on the bus."
So there it was. Stick to my principles and leave the woman and her children standing in the blazing Georgia sun or get up and move forward.
Back at Benning the man in the next bunk was a black sergeant who had a car. At the end of the day he often gave me a ride into town, but asked me to slump down in my seat when we reached the outskirts of Columbus so there wouldn't be any problem. I did so, although it seemed so hypocritical that we shouldn't be seen riding side by side when in a couple of months either or both of us might find ourselves being shot at in Korea.
And now there was this.I got up and moved as far forward as possible, seething inside at the stupidity of it all. Did I have any choice other than to change seats? Not really. Not unless I wanted to make a real ass of myself. But it was wrong, so very wrong.
All that began to change in a few more years. Not without turmoil and strife - grown men spitting on little girls trying to go to their newly-integrated school, displays of ignorance like that.Today I could board a bus in Columbus, ride north through LaGrange and Newnan and sit anywhere I damn well pleased. That's better. Not perfect, but better. Integration, unfortunately, has brought a whole new set of problems. Maybe sometime in the future people will be smart enough to solve them all. Or maybe not.

I had a major awakening one day in 1962. It had a huge effect on my outlook, and was the stimulus for some serious personal changes.

First, I need to say that my family was much more open-minded than most of our community, but still, I remember seeing a black woman with one can of beans stepping aside for my mother with her full grocery basket at the local market, and for a long time as a child, I wondered what color the colored water was at the public fountains, and why my parents made me drink plain white water. Looking back, I am still embarrassed about what we took for granted, and saw as just the way things were.

I was still in that mindset the day I got on a bus, headed for a weekend at UT in Austin. The bus was basically filled. I noticed one seat, finally, then realized that it was next to a young black man wearing an army uniform. Even though I had been disturbed during earlier bus rides, at the black faces I saw sitting in those back rows, on that first bus ride with integrated seating, I froze, as I was put face to face with some latent prejudices that had never been put to the test before. The young man then stood up, gently took my bag from my hand, and put it in the overhead rack, and quietly asked me if if preferred to sit by the window. I kind of whispered that it didn't matter, and sat down. Then, I opend my purse and took out a cigarette. As I did, the young soldier, without looking up from the book he was reading, reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, lit it, and offered it in my direction. I accepted the light and sat silently smoking, and thinking about what a refined gentleman this was sitting next to me. I had always considered myself a lady, but I was quite outdone that day. By the time that cigarette was finished, I had permanently changed my attitudes and beliefs about people and diversity. There could never be another day when I could excuse the situation by thinking it was just the way things were.

Thank God the world had begun to change during those ten years, Dick.

Ann

My parents were very loving people.

In the early 1960s, my mother came south to where I was living with my Marine Corps husband. We had to go to the laundromat to do my wash. When we arrived there, there was a sign in the laundromat window, "White Only."

My mother looked at me and said, "Where are we supposed to wash our colored clothes?"

Love, Carol

Today is wonderful!

For the most of us we have come a long way. I enjoyed your writing Dick and have to agree how stupid a lot of people were in this country not so long ago. I do not think prejudice will ever be completely eradicated for either race. There will always be some illiterate red neck with a feeling of superiority showing his or her stupidity. During the election I reflect back to driving down a state route close to home when I spotted the oddest collection in a persons yard. There was a large elect Obama campaign sign with a statue, you guessed it, of a lawn jockey beside it with the entire ensemble being overshadowed by the confederate flags. Even though we have come a long way there will always be the red necks in both races.

Nutter, I don't know your definition of a red neck, but be assured that not everyone in the South falls into that category. Nor do all of us who love the Confederate Battle Flag. To many it is a sign of our heritage, and does not stand for bigotry or racism. Please remember that a handful of Northern states were the last to free the slaves, not the first, and that the war was fought over states rights, and not slavery.

Although I suppose red necks can come from anywhere, we all know the term is usually applied to people from the south. Actually, I am red neck and proud of it, as it denotes spending much of your time doing hard work in the hot sun. I also write a lot of red neck humor, and none of it is racist in any way. Not even against JorG, the little alien that is very much unlike the people of Earth.

I too agree that this is a great day in the history of our country, and I know that Obama will do a much better job than Bush managed.

deleted by merri

LOL, Don - that reminded me of when BillJo first met JorG and
asked him if he liked NASCAR and the Braves, like that was the ultimate test for "redneckness".

Rednecks and Good Ol' Boys ~ The Difference

A redneck can call another redneck a redneck and it will be taken as a
term of endearment – almost the same as calling one “my brother”. But
if a non-redneck calls that same person a redneck, he may, at the
least, get called something much worse. At the worst, he may receive an
ass-whuppin’.

Anyone can call a good ol’ boy s good ol’ boy and get, at the least, a
long-necked Bud and a friend for life. At the worst, he may open the
beer for you and “take a swaller” before handing it to you. It’s okay –
to him it’s like becoming blood brothers.

There are subtle differences between the two, recognizable only by a
person of either persuasion… Ask a redneck for directions. He will
usually, in a rather terse manner, point and say something like, “Over
yonder, `bout three miles. Can’t miss it.”

The same question, posed to a good ol’ boy will get you, “It’s just
over yonder, but hell, just foller me in the truck an’ I’ll lead you to
it. Becky Sue says supper ain’t gonna be ready for another thirty
minutes anyway. Want a beer?”

I worked in a small Florida town at the Georgia border. I was for certain a "Yankee" from Michigan and not welcome. I was tolerated by the "good ole boys" who pointed out to me in no uncertain terms not to schedule a 9:00 a.m. meeting during huntin' season as the good ole boys went huntin' before they went to work. They also told me who to hire and fire based on family connections.

I had a friend from Atlanta, Georgia who also tolerated me; but he never let me forget that the Yankees raped the south and left it to remain in poverty to this day. He also pointed out that in the south, blacks and whites lived in the same neighborhoods; and in the north, gated communities kept people divided into their chosen economic classes. The worst class of people in his estimation were the yankees.

And then there's Florida. You go south to find the yankees and north to find the rednecks and good ole boys. If you go inland, you find the Florida crackers. What a place!

28 years ago I was in a grocery store in South Texas.

I was a teenager and I was holding my baby sister and standing in line with my step dad at the checkout lane. My mom was at home.

Though my baby sister is half African American, due to recessive genes she is white with blonde hair and blue eyes.

My step dad (who I loved as much as my real dad) and I were chatting ... but then I felt someone staring at me.

I glanced over my shoulder at the next lane and an older woman was glaring at us. Startled, I just looked away.

I couldn't figure out what her problem was.

Later it hit me. Here I was a hispanic young girl, with a middle age African American man, and a white baby looking all happy and cozy together. I can't even imagine what in the world strange conclusions she must have come up with.

Two stories. Here's number one.

It was the early 60's, and I had already been playing music in the honky tonks and bars in Middle Tennessee and along the Kentucky state line. We had a 5 piece, sometimes six piece band, and we were all white. Not bragging, but we were the best white band in the area at the time. We were called The Cadivas, and we just about had our pick of the places where we wanted to play. There was an all black band in Springfield at the same time, called The Dreamlovers, and they were the best black band around. When integration came along, the clubs at Fort Campbell decided that they were only going to hire integrated bands. So, if we got the call, we carried a couple of the Dreamlovers with us, it they got the call, me and our lead guitar player went along. We made good money, and both bands were not thinking black and white, we were only thinking music. We had a lot of great times playing together, and a lot of our practice sessions turned into some of them and some of us, playing free gigs for the local people that knew we were there that night practicing. There was a young man stationed at Fort Campbell that was trying to learn how to really make music, and he was also playing in some of the clubs. Can't say who he was, but he later became an Icon in the business, and then died entirely too early. Anyway, he came to the place we were playing one night and offered our manager $5 if he could sit in the second set with us. He did, and then our manager offered him $15 if he also play the third and fourth sets. This same manager booked our integrated band into a club several miles over in Kentucky one night, and by the time we'd gotten our drums set up we heard some of the local guys talking about a rope and a tree on a hill just outside town. We managed to get the drums back down and loaded up, and got the hell out of Dodge before we became causualties in the war that was raging at that time in lots of towns in the South. I honestly don't know if the young man from Fort Campbell was with us that night, but I've often thought that if he was, and if we'd been hanged, the world would never have heard of one of the biggest superstars that ever picked up a guitar and played a little rock and roll.

Yep, we've come a long way since then, and with Obama in office, I think we will go a lot further in the next few years.

Story number two.

Same time frame, same integration going on. My day job was in Nashville, and even though I was playing music two or three times a week, I had to keep up my regular job. That's the way my dad was, and I respected his wishes.

There was quite a bit of looting going on in Nashville during this period of time, and we had to drive directly past one of the big black colleges to get to work. Several cars with whites in them had been stopped, and some of the people had been beaten quite severely. A couple of us were carrying pistols, and as country boys we knew how to use them. Thankfully it never came to that, and I've very glad it didn't. We did run into a large group of college kids stretched across the road one afternoon, but intstead of stopping, the guy driving slammed the Ford into second and hit the gas. They moved, we went through, and that was the only incident we had. One of my friends at work, a black guy about my age, came over to me one Friday afternoon and said he was going out looting that night, and again on Saturday night. He asked me if it made me mad. I told him to pick me up a pair of red living room curtains. We both laughed and that was the end of that. I don't know if he went out looting or not, but he never brought me the curtains.

As I said, the times have changed, for the better, and for the first time in a while I have some hope again.

JoElle,

I agree. I like a lot of today.

Carol

Sometimes a person comes along and says what you would like to say, dreams the dream that you have, gives voice to the hope for the future and dignity to the past that you have lived. All of a sudden, it is a new day. A candle is lit. Fan the flame.

I love that.

Love,
Betty

I don't have any grandchildren; my friends share theirs. For years I have raised eyebrows as my "grandchildren" of many races holler out "aunti Di!" in a restaurant, at a pool or on the river kayaking. They are black, hispanic and Chinese. I am blessed.

Naples, FL was and is still "quite white" in its more prestigious parts, the wealthy aging remnants of a different past that still carry their bigotry with them as they winter here. I have a new "grandbaby" boy, very dark skin and just a few months old. I hauled him with me to Home Depot and found him too heavy to carry (babies get heavier by the mile).

I sat for a minute on a stool. I drew a crowd, this red-headed mature woman with this beatiful black baby. He is absolutely adorable. I teased his mother that I needed to borrow him again for another trip to Home Depot; I had more attention than at a book signing.

One of my friends who plays nearly pro tennis at many clubs by invitation (she's very good!) has had plenty of slights. I've been with her when someone has said something unkind. Our favorite is, "How did you two become friends?" with that incredulous intonation.

Finally, after about the 10th time of the same incredulous question from white acquaintances, I blurted out, "Well, we met traveling on the Orient Express across Asia. You know how strangers become fast friends in a foreign country."

I'm not as optimistic as some that Obama will change these things. I think it is human nature to mistrust what we do not know or experience, to feel more comfortable with the familiar. I do believe, however, that blatant discrimination will not be accepted by those with renewed hopes and dreams. As my friend says, "ignorant people will not ruin my game." There is a new game plan, and it appears inclusive.

Yes, there were those things that were wrong with our society back then, and to some degree parts of them are still with us. However, there was much that was good and gentle about those days, and we could do worse than to try and preserve those parts that we loved so well that we now speak of them as the "good old days."

I don't regret in anyway how I was raised, and can't think of anything I would change if indeed I could. But I know for a fact that the person we are today is the sum of all that we have known and experienced over the years, and who knows how we would have turned out had everything been different back then.

In the book I worked on with the Department of Education of Wisconsin back in the late 1980s, the whole section on minorities was removed because of worry about it being politically correct. I knew the person who had written and worked on that section and felt very bad it was eliminated. I was the content editor, but everything had to be deemed politically correct by people higher up than me.

I used to do training for teens on helping skills, and one time I went to a school in a mid-size city in mid-Wisconsin. The principal had selected the students. Among the students he had selected were a girl from the Asian population, the football quarterback, cheerleaders, a black boy, quiet girls and a skinny little nerdy kid wearing a black beret. At the end of the training, I remember the football quarterback saying how much he had learned from getting to know the boy in the beret. I was the trainer but also became a trainee.

Carol

DK wrote:

Quote :

...the wealthy aging remnants of a different past that still carry their bigotry with them...

That expresses them perfectly. More and more, they hide themselves in reclusive communities behind thick walls with iron gates and security guards.

I am reminded of Poe's, "The Masque of the Red Death." Only this time, the plague they hide from is only their own illusion. They don't get, as DK puts it, the new, inclusive game plan that is becoming, more and more, part of a post-modern world.

Ann

I am an "aging remnant of a different past" but do not carry bigotry with me when I travel south.

We all need to join together to change things, young and old, while bringing along the good stuff. (I'm just not as poetic as D.K.)

We need to be careful with stereotypes forever.

Carol

Remember, JoElle, if you don't know where you've been, you can't know where you're going or where the potholes are. I agree, it is better to look ahead, but with one eye on the rearview mirror.
Some excellent stories have been told here. Because of my own background, I closely relate to those told by the two Dons, Stephens and Harpe. I think the lesson to be learned is something we already know, good people can be found in every part of the country and the world. So, unfortunately, can bad people. I believe that now more than any time in the past, the good outnumber the bad. We have learned from what happened in the past, but it would be a mistake to think that the past was all bad. It wasn't.

Dick,



I agree.

Carol

Dick Stodghill wrote:

Remember, JoElle, if you don't know where you've been, you can't know where you're going or where the potholes are. I agree, it is better to look ahead, but with one eye on the rearview mirror.
Some excellent stories have been told here. Because of my own background, I closely relate to those told by the two Dons, Stephens and Harpe. I think the lesson to be learned is something we already know, good people can be found in every part of the country and the world. So, unfortunately, can bad people. I believe that now more than any time in the past, the good outnumber the bad. We have learned from what happened in the past, but it would be a mistake to think that the past was all bad. It wasn't.

Ugh! I don't want to write something long and philosophical about this.

But, yeah, I know. It is important to learn from the past ... and I do know that things are better today because of the actions of those who came before us.

My point was ... that when folks talk about the good ol' days ... and yeah, some stuff in the past was good ... but when people talk about the good ol' days, not all of it was good. As all the interesting stories everyone here has shared prove. How sad to have made such strong friendships ... and have to hide being with a close friend.

THAT was my point.

And now that things are better for women, minorities, multi-racial families, and people of different religions ... and now that we have advanced in science and technology ... maybe now that today is better than yesterday in so many ways ... maybe we can actually believe in a better tomorrow.

Well said, JoElle.