Race? What's That?

Section 60 of Arlington National Cemetery (Source)

So which of those graves holds a black soldier? A white Marine? An Asian sailor? Which grave holds a Jewish airman? A Muslim soldier? A Catholic Marine? A Protestant sailor? Which grave holds an Hispanic aircrewman, which grave holds the mortal remains of a Native American? Which one? Anyone care to venture a guess?

You can't tell? Don't feel bad. Neither can I. All I see are granite headstones and American flags. In life all I would have seen were fellow Americans. Americans who swore the same oath as I. Americans who marched under the same flag as I. Americans who gave their lives in the cause of Freedom.

This photo is from Section 60 of Arlington, where the earthly remains of many of those who fell in Operations Enduring Freedom and Iraqi Freedom were laid to rest. Men and women I am proud to call brother and sister. What color was their skin in life? What does that matter? It doesn't. We are all the same species, we are of the human race. The color of one's skin should matter no more than the color of one's hair, or eyes. It should not matter at all.

---------------------

Growing up in a small town in Vermont I was surrounded by white faces. But we saw black athletes on television and, though few, black actors and actresses on TV shows and in movies. Asians were on TV and in the movies as well, Hispanics and Native Americans were also in movies as Westerns were very popular back then.

Unfortunately, most of the Asians I saw at the movies (or in TV shows like Bonanza) were very stereotypical. Railroad workers and cooks, those were the Asians we saw. Only when I grew up did I learn that most of the Mexicans and Indians I saw in those Westerns were oft times not real Mexicans and Indians.

Some of my heroes growing up were black. Men like David "Deacon" Jones of the Los Angeles Rams, Willie Lanier of the Kansas City Chiefs, and Carl Eller of the Minnesota Vikings. I played football, I wanted to play the game the way they did. With passion and power. You might think that I liked playing defense, and you'd be right. Controlled fury and violence. I loved it.

In high school one of the art teachers, who was quite a free spirit, had adopted a number of kids. One of the girls was black, one was Native American, she may have been Hopi or Navajo, all I know for certain is that she came from the Southwest.

So now we weren't a sea of white faces, there was some variety thrown in. In truth a number of us thought it was pretty cool. Something like that wouldn't bug me, my parents didn't raise me that way. We were raised to look below the surface at the real person underneath. I did have friends who were less enlightened regarding race.

Upon buying a record album by Sly and the Family Stone (the album was Stand!, a brilliant work in my estimation). I think it was the first time I actually heard a real person use the "N" word.

"So really, you're going to buy a "N" album?"

Yeah, I was a bit stunned. My answer was "Music is music man." (And yes, I still hold to that opinion.)

Getting out into the world when I joined the Air Force, I met all sorts of folks. Two of my best buddies in Basic Training were black. To the sergeants we were all knuckleheads in fatigue uniforms who might someday be worthy of wearing Air Force blue. We were part of a team. We all had a part. Officially, the Air Force didn't give a crap what color we were.

In tech school my buddies were Mike (Irish descent from Connecticut), Manuel, (Hispanic kid from Texas), and two roommates (who's names escape me), the more excitable of the two was from South Carolina, the laid back one was Hawaiian. We were inseparable, until the Air Force sent us five different ways. (Which happened a number of times over the next twenty-four years!)

I have worked with (and for) folks of all different backgrounds, religions, colors, and ethnic backgrounds. Some were jerks, most were good people you could rely on. Same as any group of people. Race just doesn't matter to me. Never has. I sure wish this country of mine would grow up and think likewise.

So God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them. Genesis 1:27

God has no color, no race. Why do we bother to get spun up over such things?

Jesus said to him, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.” Matthew 22:37-40

We're all everyday people, let's grasp that, then move on to what could be a bright future. Or not, the choice is ours.

"Everyday People"

Sometimes I'm right and I can be wrong

My own beliefs are in my song

The butcher, the banker, the drummer and then

Makes no difference what group I'm in

I am everyday people, yeah, yeah

There is a blue one

Who can't accept the green one

For living with a fat one

Trying to be a skinny one

Different strokes

For different folks

And so on and so on

And scooby dooby dooby

Oh sha sha

We got to live together

I am no better and neither are you

We are the same, whatever we do

You love me, you hate me, you know me and then

You can't figure out the bag I'm in

I am everyday people, yeah yeah

There is a long hair

That doesn't like the short hair

For being such a rich one

That will not help the poor one

Different strokes

For different folks

And so on and so on

And scooby dooby dooby

Oh sha sha

We got to live together

There is a yellow one

That won't accept the black one

That won't accept the red one

That won't accept the white one

Different strokes

For different folks

And so on and so on

And scooby dooby dooby

Oh sha sha

I am everyday people

Sly & The Family Stone