We have been watching a program called This Is Us. In many ways it is the most amazing family drama we have ever seen. The casting, the acting, and the writing are all superb. It is a show about . . . LIFE. The show is all about a family, in which two of the family members are white twins, and one is a Black person who was adopted at the same age and timing as the two white twins. So, the kids are triplets, with the Black baby replacing one of the three White babies who failed to remain alive after birth. So, the family still essentially has triplets, but one of them happens to be Black. Kind of an amazing story line that follows the kids and the rest of the family as they all age into adults and old folks.
The
Black baby is treated throughout as just one of the family triplets. The kids
seem to get along fine and the parent-child relationships seem to remain fine
pretty much throughout.
But,
as the kids age, that Black baby becomes a highly successful Black man, who
marries and creates his own family. Now, largely, the Black thing only begins
to intervene as the young Black man ages into adulthood and then confronts the
world, wherein Black humans are in fact treated differently.
So,
as the story progresses, we get the first touches of what it is like to grow up
as a Black Human being in America. Now,
I am approaching 90 and grew up in Manhattan, but then traveled to several
parts of the US and that larger world out there. When I was growing up in Manhattan, I had no real
sense of Black Humans. I lived on Second Avenue, near 71st Street.
So far as I know, during the 1930s and 1940s, Black Humans lived in Manhattan,
but above 125th Street, in that place known as Harlem. I remember no Blacks in
PS 82, where I attended school. And, when we played stickball, marbles and hide
and seek on 71st Street with my gang, all my buds were White. I would take the subway up to the Bronx to
have Sunday dinner with my Grandma and Aunties, but again I came across no
Blacks.
And
so I continued maturing, entering high school up in Rockland County, Spring
Valley by name. My Mother was afraid we
(my bro and me) would get killed playing on the streets in Manhattan, so she
moved us across the river. And still, an all-white neighborhood and a largely
(but not completely) White high school.
And
then I traveled more, going to Stanford out in California, moving about a bit
in California as an aerospace engineer, and then moving for four years to
India, to help that Indian government use more advanced planning technology
managing its booming economy. Now, that was interesting. I did in fact meet
some Blacks there, but more, I met and became friends with India’s wide array
of people covering the entire spectrum of human skin coloring. The folks who lived in the north were every
bit as white as me, where the folks who lived in the South tended to be even
darker than many African folks. Oh, and
they all spoke different languages, although most also spoke English.
So,
there I acquired an understanding of multi-colored human gatherings without
serious problems. Oh, skin coloration in India is a bit of an issue, but it
lacked the dynamic seen here, where Black skin implied a heritage of slavery.
Still,
I managed to gain a better understanding of Life as a person of color. Still,
this program we watch brought back to me an understanding that Black folks lead
different lives, even if they are as educated and commercially successful as
their White counterparts. They are
treated differently by many people, and We Whites tend not to even notice.
And
so, this program, This Is Us, has brought back to me another view of what being
Black and living in America means.
And
then I am being besieged with news about Israel and Gaza, where first the HAMAS
Arabs launched an attack killing hundreds of innocent Israelis, followed by the
inevitable return attack by Israel, killing thousands of innocent
Palestinians. And that mess brings home
to me what it might be like to live as an Arab, or an Israeli in that place
called The Middle East.
See,
when I go out into our town, shopping or meeting people, I am treated as just
another old white dude, or maybe, just another member of our Concord/North
Carolina community. So, see, I don’t stand
out. Were I Black, or in some way demonstrably Arab, people might well treat me
differently.
And
this all makes me think that Life should be the same for all folks, but it isn’t. I understand that your own personal approach
to life will change how that thing called Life treats you. But I also know
that, regardless of your own personal best approach, your own Life will be
different if you are a person of color, or now, even an Arab. We all need to be
aware of this Life approach. So, try to treat folks you meet fairly and try to
be pleasant, regardless of the physical differences between you and the folks
you meet. It might make their lives a bit nicer, and wouldn’t that be a good
thing?
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