It is always more comfortable for a person to be around familiar things and people, especially if that person is a little shy or backward. I remember my first day in school. It was the first grade; I was six, as in those days there wasn’t a kindergarten program. I was shy and kept to myself, but I remember there were some of my classmates who were outgoing and boisterous just as if they had been to school before and already knew everyone. This was in a small town in Minnesota, and there were no black children, no Spanish children, no oriental children. However, there were a lot of Scandinavian kids like myself and some Indian children. I was used to seeing Indian children because we lived near the White Earth Indian Reservation. That is where my mother grew up as she was part Indian herself. After a few days, I was acquainted with several other children, and I felt more comfortable in my new environment. This was the fall of the year 1940. I was totally unacquainted with prejudicial thought or behavior.
In those days, it was relatively uncommon for women to work outside of the home. The man of the house was the breadwinner. It was during an economic depression, and many men were out of work. Some men were homeless and were referred to as hobos or bums as they jumped on freight trains and travelled from place to place looking for work. We lived on the edge of town, and there were train tracks just a few blocks from our house where trains came and went on a regular basis. We often had hobos come to our house and ask for food. They were usually unkempt as they slept in boxcars and/or on the ground every night. As a little boy, I was a little afraid of strangers, but mother always had something for them to eat, even if it was just a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of milk. She never had them come in the house; they would sit on the porch. These were strangers, and as a little boy, I did not know what to expect from them, and the, “not knowing,” I believe, is what makes us afraid and prejudice. That holds true for hobos or any other person different than what we are used to.
When we moved west to Spokane, Washington near the beginning of the second World War, in late 1942, it was the first time I ever saw a black, Spanish or oriental person. Spokane was a big city, and many people from all walks of life and all continents either lived in the city or passed through it. There was an Army-Air Force base just outside of Spokane with military personnel stationed there from all over the United States. My dad worked as an airplane mechanic at the base during the war. I soon became acquainted with other kids who were different than I was, but for some reason, I don’t remember feeling any animosity for any of them until I heard other children saying negative things. There is no doubt in my mind that had I never heard a negative comment about a person of a different race or color, I know that I would never have had negative thoughts myself. In my mind, racist behavior is definitely a learned behavior. It was something that was never taught nor even expressed in our home but rather a feeling that I picked up from other kids while away from home. I suppose you could say that when I got old enough to think for myself, I grew out of any ignorant thoughts I may have ever had. I remember seeing how hurt a person was who was called a name. I was soft enough to internalize that and feel bad for them. I especially felt bad the first time I heard prejudicial feelings about Native Americans, such as, ‘The only good indian is a dead one,” etc. My cousins lived on the White Earth Indian Reservation in Minnesota, and they were Indians. My blood, as well as my playmates, when we visited Grandma’s house in Callaway. Callaway is where mother grew up, and it was on the reservation. I have very little Indian blood in me and I look to be a fullblooded Norwegian like my father. It doesn’t matter what blood runs in our veins; it is all red, and it is either positive or negative or some variation. But if we are bleeding to death and need a transfusion, we will not care who donated the blood to save us, and it will work. The key to neutrality between people, people who are different than you are, whether it be a presumed social status, financial status, color or race, is to get to know them. Why? Because we all have the same needs and many of the same wants. Edgar A. Guest said it best in his poem entitled, “Brothers All”
“Under the clothes of this different man Is a man who thinks and feels as you. Go talk with him, Go walk with him…And this you’ll find
As he bares his mind: In the things which count when this life is through He’s as tender and big and as good as you.
Be fair with him, And share with him An hour of time in a restful place,
Brother to brother and face to face, And he’ll whisper low Of the long ago,
Of a loved one dead And the tears he shed;
And you’ll come to see That in suffering he,
With you, is hurt by the self-same rod
And turns for help to the self-same God.
You hope as he, You dream of splendors, and so does he;
His children must be as you’d have yours be; He shares your love
For the Flag above, He laughs and sings For the self-same things;
When he’s understood He is mostly good,
Thoughtful of others and kind and true…A man who thinks and feels as you.”
The thing I hate or dislike about anyone, regardless of color, background, etc. is “MEAN.” I am definitely prejudiced against “mean.” Man is that he might have “joy,” and it is very hard to have joy when you have “mean” around. That “mean” could come from anyone, but becoming educated and adopting a Christian orientation will tend to neutralize your “mean.” I rather doubt that it is found more in one color or race of man than in another.
Humor is always a peacemaker and a way of bringing people together. I have always enjoyed humor from any and every source, for example, this poem, “Colored Folks:”
When I born, I black,
When I grow up, I black,
When I go in sun, I black,
When I cold, I black,
When I scared, I black,
When I sick, I black,
And when I die, I still black.
You white folks….
When you born, you pink,
When you grow up, you white, When you go in sun, you red,
When you cold, you blue,
When you scared, you yellow,
When you sick, you green,
When you bruised, you purple,
And when you die, you gray!
So who you calling colored? (Anon.)
The Savior advised us this way: “Ye are my disciples if ye have love one for another.” He was not a respecter of persons, meaning he did not hold one above another, but all were equal in His eyes. I pray that we may all adopt the Savior’s view of mankind. Bigotry is definitely not among the Beatitudes. Bigots think of people not as individuals, but as members of racial groups, as if they somehow lack individual personalities, attitudes, aptitudes, motivations, ambitions, character and most importantly feelings.