What did your dad teach you about race?

H: My dad is from a small town in Tennessee and whatever experience happened there influenced how he would live the rest of his life. He’s still mad about stuff that happened in his childhood. Thus, he wasn’t particularly fond of white people. But, he complained about people in general. However, I do recall him having a few white friends from work and we would go to their house on the weekends. So, he wasn’t totally against having relationships with people of other races. 

That being said there is a bitterness that comes with being raised in the south for many people in his generation. My dad wasn’t as bad as his father; a mean sharecropper that you would want to avoid, but in regards to our family the results were the same in the end. My dad spent very little time with us and was in no way supportive of any extra curricular activities I would participate in. And quite frankly and unfortunately there was a point where I didn’t want him around. 

I was one of the fastest high hurdlers in the state of Illinois and he never attended a race. He didn’t even want to pick me up from practice. It was my business and he didn’t want to be involved. I would be on the evening news or in the newspaper and he never mentioned it. I was the record holder for low-hurdles and he has no idea. 

I’ve only heard my dad give praise and respect to one man, Malcolm X. Like most black people, brother Malcolm represented to my dad an unwavering razor sharp towering  figure that spoke truth to power; white or black. My sophomore year I read the Autobiography of Malcolm X for a research paper in English class. My minds was blown. Like many Americans Malcolm was the gateway to my conversion to Islam.  I saw what my dad saw in Malcolm X, however that’s one of the very few areas where I understood my dad’s point of view. 

My father thought going to college was a waste of my time. He never explained why and by that time in my life I’d isolated him with minimal contact  and conversation. He just wasn’t making sense to me. But I got a scholarship in fine arts and that was that. 

My dad had an issue with white collar black people like a few of my mom’s brothers. He thought they were phony, but he didn’t get along with blue collar black guys at his job either. He would often describe them as stupid. It perplexed me. I didn’t get it. He’s a man with no people. He would go out drinking with these guys every weekend, but I don’t think he really liked these people. But he didn’t spend time with his family either. It didn’t add up to me. 

Today he lives alone back in his hometown in Tennessee. I spoke to him a couple weeks ago. He said he’s ready to move back up north. Why, because everyone in Tennessee is an asshole. That’s my dad.

D: My dad was bipolar so much of the man I remember was altered by the drugs that kept his personality in balance.

Family was the most important thing to him, and he would often say that to us when my mom didn’t want to drive from Rhode Island to Buffalo to see his sister. My brother and I took long road trips and slept many nights in pajamas in the back seat of the Buick. 

The other lesson he tried to teach me was to work hard and let your actions define you.

He hated showboats. He disliked self-promoters.

I don’t think we ever had a substantive conversation about race though, other than the basics of treat everyone fairly and never use certain words. What I learned I learned from my observations. He was a great basketball player in high school and got a scholarship to attend college. He served in the armed forces, so he had more access to diversity than we had in our racially isolated town. He was a guidance counselor in high school and worked to get kids into college. He was proud when he got someone into college who didn’t think he or she could attend or afford it. Those kids were many races and from different backgrounds. He saw education as the great equalizer. I think he recognized that in his own life. His parents fled Russia before WW1 and arrived in the US with little money or plans. The family started a modest business, a bakery, and he was the youngest and first to go to college.

He opened the door for many as a guidance counselor.

The only barometer I can remember about how he felt specifically about people of color was his attitude toward athletes and celebrities, some of who were Black.

He didn’t like Ali, or Reggie Jackson or Bryant Gumble. He also didn’t like Pete Rose or Howard Cosell. They would probably fall in his mind into the self-promoter category. He loved Bill Russell. He truly admired everything about that man. He liked Oprah as I guess everyone did. When he and my mom got older and were failing, they spent a lot of time watching tv. Oprah became an afternoon appointment for them, before the nap. 

My dad’s father owned a bar and for a while the sons ran it. As a kid I loved hanging out and listening to the customers talk about sports and bitch about the world. But when the conversation got a little dicey or inappropriate, my dad would simply grab my hand and say let’s go. So in many ways he was like many people who avoided the discomfort of issues of race and inequality. He left the conversation. 

He was a puzzle that I honestly, and unfortunately, never spent much time trying to solve until later years. I believe he would be disturbed by what is happening in the world now. He watched the race riots of decades past. I think as an educated man, he knew what was happening and the disadvantages many have in this country. His parents were a part of a wave of immigrants and while he loved this country, he understood things were stacked, especially against African Americans. He understood how difficult it is to get ahead. 

Howard and David are two friends talking (and listening).

We’ll see where the conversation takes us.