I owned a copy of that recording since the late 60s, rockhead. I'm the world's foremost Belafonte fan.
I once worked with a predjudiced guy. Whenever I would tell a story about someone, he woud say, "Was he black or white?" or "What color was he?" I would always reply, "I don't know. I didn't notice." That would drive him crazy.
I work with a 73 year old pharmacist. One day he was talking about his "Black anesthesiologist friend". I decided to mess with him and asked "Why has he got to be a black anesthesiologist? why not just an anesthesiologist?"
He was so nonplussed and stuttered so much, it made my whole day - well, at least a couple hours of it...
My senior cat is named Spooky. It started as Spook, but he didn't like it, and two of the first three people I mentioned this to asked "Is he black?"
For the record, he is ginger, orange, or beize; whichever you please. It's really spooky the way he can disappear, though.
Margo, when this cat was newly arrived, he was invisible. I watched him walk across the floor and behind a cardboard box. I waited. And I waited. When I just couldn't stand it, I looked behind the box. No cat. I have discovered that cat hiding behind a small toaster. It's Spooky, I tell ya.
This is why I don't encourage people to be in a big hurry to pick a name. They often pick their own.
I named my dog Punky, because she seemed an obvious punk. After she grew up, the name was not that appropriate, but it stuck.
Once, when I was about 19 years of age, working carpentry, my uncle took the rest of the crew and left for an hour. Why I got left alone, framing the joists on a house, I can't recall. A feller walked along the property line and then decided to approach. I looked down as this black-skinned man stood below me and sought to ask a question. The whole time, ever since he appeared to be looking in my direction, there had been welling in me an almost desperate desire to treat him just the same as any other person I should meet. But the knowledge of Texas' racist history, and the current awakening of overt black indignation and outright anger overwhelmed me. I had always been unable to carry a conversation with other people, whatever their color or background anyway. Trying too hard to be polite and "normal," I said, "Sir?" Sounding curt. I said it just as he opened his mouth to speak. The rude sound of it made him clam up and again get about his walking. There was nothing I could ave done to bridge the gap.
I'm late, but can I join in anyway? Is there a deadline? Do I have to sign anywhere?
Montana wrote:I'm late, but can I join in anyway? Is there a deadline? Do I have to sign anywhere?
One's presence is the sole requirement. All else is dross.
