Racism is ugly stuff. I thought we'd left it behind but I guess it was just hiding. I didn't know what racism was until I met it in the kitchen one day after a party my parents gave. The person targeted was someone I loved dearly. Remembering the story, even now, makes my face grow hot with anger and shame.

Back in the 1960's our country was divided over racism. We'd long ago fought to end slavery but civil rights were still a dream away. This was especially true in the heart of coal country, up in the hills of West Virginia. This is a story about the time my Dad stood up to The Three Kings: who ruled the town, the mines, and the church. Since what's old is unfortunately new again, with all the executive orders dismantling DEI and wiping black contributions off government websites, it's a timely story for today.

I wish my Dad was still here so I could celebrate Father's Day with him just one more time! But this little story will have to suffice! When I was a kid, we didn't play organized sports. We roamed the neighborhood like feral cats. But we mostly behaved because, back then, any parent that caught you doing something wrong had permission to punish you any way they saw fit, whether they were your parents or not, so like I said, we mostly behaved. But there was this one time when things went very wrong. Thank goodness my Daddy figured it out!