racism |

In 2012, during the next-to-the-last weekend of the NCAA basketball tournament, University of Louisville player Kevin Ware went down with a horrific injury, a compound fracture of the right leg. His team mates fell on the floor in horror. They cried and wrapped their arms around each other. Players from both teams said they nearly threw up. The crowd gasped and sobbed and turned away.

Except Luke Hancock. After a few motionless moments, he realized Kevin lay on the floor in pain and alone. Luke hurdled the courtside railing to reach and kneel next to Kevin, to hold his hand, and ask Kevin if he’d like to pray. He calmed Kevin and all who watched even as the medical team arrived and took over.

I’m still amazed at the maturity of Luke Hancock. Even at my advanced age, I doubt I’d have recognized the need of Kevin Ware and responded so quickly and so perfectly. The Cards won the NCCA championship the next weekend and Luke was named MVP of the Final Four, but that one moment made me respect Luke more than anything, that outpouring of kindness that defines him as a man.

Yes, kindness. One of my favorite verses of the Bible is from Micah: “What does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”

Now we’re hearing about hazing and racism in professional football. A player admits he made racists remarks against a young player as well as threatening horrifying acts toward family members of that player. Even worse, team members back up the bullying with the excuse that’s what happens in the testosterone-heavy atmosphere of pro-football and that’s how a real man acts. The player who left the team is being called a wimp, a pansy, and words I cannot (and would not) write here.

Is bullying ever acceptable? Do athletes need to toughen up rookies? I have a feeling I know how you’d answer. But in our society, which is more admired? I’m going with Luke Hancock.

My parents didn’t teach me to hate

I look back over the years and realize what an amazing statement this is: my parents didn’t teach me to hate. Never once did I hear a word against any group or people, religion or race. I didn’t grow up with the burden of prejudice. I didn’t have to unlearn the lessons of racism.

You may not think this statement makes my folk sound special. I hope your parents did the same.

What makes this fact remarkable is that my father was born in 1904 and my mother, in 1907, hardly years of openness and acceptance of others. I was born in the 1940’s and grew up in a world filled with bigotry and hatred, in a world of separate restrooms and in a city where the public swimming pool was closed because white people didn’t want to swim with black people. Because of the way my parents raised me, I didn’t understand why anyone would object to this. Thanks, Mom and Dad.

I thought of this again about a week ago when I watched a PBS program about Oscar Hammerstein. He was a man born in 1895, a man ahead of his time, a writer who asked questions and forced discussion on many issues, especially of race and prejudice, in the lyrics of his marvelous musicals.

In 1949, Hammerstein wrote South Pacific. I was born in Kansas City, MO, a little off Broadway, but wonderful touring companies came through. I saw South Pacific in the theater when I was eight. After the show was over, I asked my mother about the song You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught. She told me that some parents teach their children to hate other people, people who are different. I asked her why. She couldn’t explain. Neither can I.

In Showboat written in 1927, Hammerstein dealt with misogyny. Julie, who had “black blood”, was married to a white man, a union which was against the law. I saw this movie when I was nine and couldn’t understand why two adults who love each other couldn’t marry. I still don’t.

My parents raised me in church and taught me that the Gospel means acceptance and love for all, no exceptions.

Thanks, Mom and Dad.

Tag Archives: racism

Macho and kind? Is that possible?

My parents didn’t teach me to hate. Thank you!