(Friends, sorry for the delay in TDD commentary. As some of you may know, I now spend about 3 days a week working down on my Mom and Dad's property, engaged in various forms of significant physical exertion. With Fall coming on, most of my time is now spent cutting, splitting, and hauling firewood for 8 hours a day. So the bottom line is, despite my best intentions, Yours Truly has been unable to blog at my usual pace due to significant pain and fatigue. I come home with every intention of sending out the next epistle only to find myself falling into a coma and not awaking until morning.
I have been wanting to throw a situation out there for you all to consider and provide some feedback on. It has to do with an incident that happened to me last week, that has give me considerable food for thought. I must confess, I'm somewhat hesitant to share this episode, only because it reflects poorly on country folks here in Indiana and may reinforce some biased assumptions that people already have about such people. But the idea I want to emphasize warrants the retelling of this incident. (WARNNG: Some of the content may be inappropriate for our younger TDD readers.)
Anyway, I was driving down to Crane Acres last week and decided to stop by the little fruit/vegetable stand by the side of the road. It's a place I frequently visit because the two old farmers are usually very friendly and the watermelons and cantelopes are just about the best I've ever eaten. So we've made it a regular habit to give them our business.
Last week I saw them there and stopped by to pick up a watermelon, a cantelope, and a dozen ears of corn. I asked how much it would be, and the guy said, "$8.00". So I looked in my wallet and pulled out a twenty, the only bill I had. When he saw it, he said, "Sorry, but I can't make change for that." So, I said, "Well, then I'm sorry too, but this is the only thing I have." I turned to walk away, and when he realized he was about to lose my business, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills, and determined to make change, while commenting that, "He didn't want to lose all of his change." When I realized that he had actually had change all along, I was a little miffed. But it was further complicated as he went on.
This exchange then prompted him to relate to me, "There was this nigger that stopped by last week and gave me a $100 bill. He actually assumed I could make change for that. It made me mad, so I gave him his change back in $1 bills." I made some empathetic response about how frustrating that can be, and then climbed back in my car.
But I couldn't get over our exchange. It really affected me, particularly because it was the second time in as many days that I had heard somebody refer to an African-American with that kind of derogatory term. I went home that night and related the incident to Jean, and we talked about it for some time.
Here's my question, and the issue we were pondering: Given the exchange with that farmer and his attitude toward black folks, should we continue to give him our business?
Bear in mind, I grew up in Martinsville, Indiana, which used to be a hotbed for the Ku Klux Klan back in the 1930-40's. And its a reputation that the people of Martinsville have attempted to redeem, particularly those of us in the younger generations. I also have a family who raised us in such a way that provided us multiple opportunities to reach out to the African-American kids in the inner city and often bring them down to our house in Martinsville (despite their understandable trepidation at coming down there).
But the bigger issue which extends beyond racism, is when it is appropriate to protest against someone/something with which we disagree? Should we, for example, not support those people or businesses which hold values that are opposed to ours? If so, how far do we take it, given the assumption that we will never agree with everyone all of the time?
Well, these are some of the questions that have been rattling around in my mind. As I head out the door for Chicago, I leave them for you to ponder.