Becoming: Bigotry absorbed
Dad pulled up and, looking at us, rolled down the window. Not saying anything, he nodded and pulled away, cranking up the window as he shifted the Hilman sedan into second. I knew I’d hear about it later.
Richard Taylor and I were in the fifth grade and lived just a block apart. I liked walking to school with him. He had an easy laugh and liked to pick up anything throwable along the way –– a habit I immediately mimicked. We threw at power poles, fire hydrants, and anything else that we felt were safe targets, competing to see who the best shot was. It was Richard, but I never minded losing to him –– he was so relaxed about the whole thing and just plain easy to be around.
He liked me. I liked him.
Heading in for dinner that evening, I heard Dad say, “Teddy’s walking to school with that colored kid from the next block.”
Mom replied, “he’s just a friend, Ted. Teddy needs friends.”
“Well, he doesn’t need colored friends.”
Hearing me shut the door, Dad called me into the kitchen. “Teddy, I don’t want you playing with or walking to school with that colored kid.”
Mom busied herself with boiling potatoes –– turning off the burner, picking up the pot, and draining the steaming water –– carefully holding the lid so the potatoes didn’t fall into the sink.
Monitor was on, and Dave Garroway’s calm, comforting voice filled the room from the little radio in our eating nook. I hoped Mom might say something.
Dad shushed her before she could, although I knew she welcomed the shift in attention as Garroway introduced Detroit strike, and a reporter stepped in. Dad was a union man — a Teamster. I knew just from the way Mom and Dad talked about union business that it was dangerous.
Taking it in, I didn’t say a thing. Relieved, maybe.
Thinking I’d maintain my friendship with Richard without Dad seeing us as I started to set the table. Richard and I had scouted the junkyard a couple of times. But we’d never slept out together. I think I knew that it wasn’t okay to hang out with him long before Dad’s pronouncement.
As I poured my milk, I knew I’d only see Richard in school from now on.
The radio droned on. No one said a thing.
