Saturday, March 06, 2010

I used to work with a Mormon guy, a complete and utter racial bigot. In conversation, one time, I remarked that half my extended family is black, or at least reflects less light than most. He staggered back in shock, shrieking "What?!??!?!??!!!!!!"

But it's true. The wife's mother is from Trinidad, which is basically half African (from, you know, Africa), half Indian (from, you know, India), with traces of northern European whites, and Syrians.) (Yes, Syrians! They own the rag trade in the Caribbean.). My sister Teresa married a guy from Grenada. So, when you go poking around, I'm connected by marriage(s) to a lot of West Africa, and a bit of Latin America. How great is that??!??!?!!!!

You know, what I'm most proud of about my parents is that via my dad's military background, and my mom's medical background, none of us (their children) see people as other than people. None of us judge by skin color, but rather by actions.

And that's pretty damn good.

I have no idea why I wrote this. Except maybe that we're coming up on the anniversary of The Mother's death. Plus, I will be 48 this year, while The Father died at age 47. Forgive me, but the whole thing's putting a whammy on my head.

Comments: Post a Comment

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?