sign in map

Thursday, November 6, 2008


Hello and Welcome to life after the election.

Wow what a historic time we are living in.

My father must be rolling over in his

I remember being in first grade at Hopewell school It held 8 grades back then
and in all my years at that school we only had one African American student in the school.

My first day of first grade I will never forget and it was probably a day that defined how I saw others for the rest of my life. My first unofficial diversity

I was so scared that day!
I walked into this big school off the bus alone, Mothers didn't go to school on the first day back then and there was no meet your teacher either.

I saw this long corridor and long line and didn't know if i was suppose to be in it or not.

Then I saw this Girl who was much bigger than I, I would guess about 8th grade.

She scared me as she was what my father called a Niger and to the day he died he still used that nasty word.
That lovely girl could see my fear and was the only one who stepped up to me.

She smiled at me she had the most beautiful smile, and it somehow made me feel safe and not afraid anymore.
She wasn't what my Father had described at all, she was sweet , kind,and pretty.
That girl took my hand and held it as she put me in line ahead of her and led me in the right direction.
Little did I know that wasn't just the direction to my class room or where ever it was I had to go, It was the direction of the rest of my life.


  1. What a wonderful way to learn about the fellowship of humanity! Brotherhood, sisterhood, we are all part of the hood! I was raised in San Francisco and never knew about predjudice until I was a teenager- long story! Dannelle

  2. Loved the story!
    I grew up in a prejudiced household as well...but my mom and dad tried to change when I had Brianna. Two of my siblings do not see color, either.
    My other brother, however, is probably having a sh*t And I giggle every time I think about it : )


  3. What a wonderful memory. I remember dad telling people that his little girl could fall in love with and marry an African American and he wouldn't care as long as I was happy. Nice PC talk.

    However, my father's father was born in Mexico, yet dad did NOT want anyone to know he was half hispanic. I remember getting the glare and later chewed out for telling a child next to me that I was part mexican.

    He grew up in a small town in Ohio where his family were just about the only "color" in town. Apparently, he did not have such pleasant childhood memories.

    Anyway, I wanted to stop by and tell you...the sugar tip on my blog...don't burn your tongue on purpose just to try it out. LOL

  4. Thank you for sharing this. I just made an entry on the issue of color. I was just so sick and tired of hearing the doomsayers because we have a black president. I think it's the best thing that's ever happened to us. (Hugs)Indigo

  5. That is just the sweetest story! I love this entry.

  6. I like that story Linda. It's good that things that have changed so much. *M*