It Takes All Kinds To Make a World

While reading John Sherck's blog this morning, I was yet again inspired by his post, so here’s a bit of my own take on it.

I spent the first ten years of my life in New England, where there were many people of various white ethnicities, but fewer blacks and asians than in other parts of the country. I am mainly of British ancestry with a bit of Irish thrown in and was raised as a nominal Episcopalian. In other words, I am a WASP.

Like John, I grew up in a family where racial and ethnic tolerance was taught mainly by positive example rather than my parents specifically bringing my attention to it.

Except for one time.

I can remember when I was about six years old that my mother took me downtown to go shopping with her one day. While in the store, I saw a black boy about my own age shopping with his mother. I have no idea what possessed me to do this, but I walked up to him, held my hand up close to his and calmly announced, “My hand is better than your hand.”

I’ll never forget the expressions on the faces of both our mothers. As soon as the words had left my mouth, I knew I’d done something wrong. My mother apologized profusely to the boy’s mother, but I don’t think the woman accepted it, figuring I’d learned such attitudes at home.

But, of course, I hadn’t. The only thing I can think of to explain it was that there was quite a bit of coverage about the Civil Rights movement on the news at that time. And I’d also heard my aunt’s husband regularly make racist comments.

After apologizing, my mother quickly hustled me out of the store. On the ride home, she gave me an extended lecture about why such attitudes and behavior were wrong. I don’t remember all the details of what she said, but what it boiled down to were two things she said often, “There’s good and bad in all kinds”, and “It takes all kinds of people to make a world”.

I’ve never forgotten what happened and what she told me that day, as it was a major turning point in the development of my character.