email to a long lost relative

 
 
 
What follows is a true story, sent to a fellow DU member awhile back. One I had not planned to use here, until I read SatInUGal's poem "Dear Black Girl".
 
 
Dear xxxxxx
 
What follows is the story I promised, one I believe changed my life. It was long in the making, so, as not to bore, I offer this abridged edition.
 
 
I was born in the Mideast US of loving parents and grew up in a typical family setting, without the strife many experience. However, my parents, being raised in an earlier era and though not racist, did hold to the belief of equal yet separate.
 
As I grew I did not give much thought to how it was for many of my black peers until one day in grade school during gym class, I found an extra pair of socks I had mistakenly brought with me and offered to give them to whoever wanted them. As it happened there were two girls who asked for them and I began using the old "Eney, meeny miny moe" (a children's counting rhyme, which you can Google if you're not familiar with), as a way to determine which girl would receive them. When I progressed to the second line "catch a ________ by the toe", I used what I now consider one of, if not the, filthiest word in the English language.  My gym teacher, who overheard all this, "Oatess E. Archey", (please Google this person if you can, and you will understand why he became one of the most influential persons in my life), stopped me in mid sentence and took me aside, where upon we had an in-depth conversation, the first of many which followed throughout my grade school years until he left for bigger and better things.
 
Fast forward several years to when we had our daughters and how we taught them to look past the outward appearance of others and see the beauty that is the real person beneath, and listen not to those who would seek to lead them differently.
 
Fast forward again to when our youngest daughter became the mother of two bi-racial sons, one who struggles with ADHD coupled with mild Autism and the other who has been placed in accelerated classes due to his ability to comprehend his studies much quicker than most, and though her and her ex are no longer married, they share parenting the boys without the emotional issues that plague many others, and I am very proud and thankful to them.
 
I can vividly remember the afternoon my father and I were sitting on the couch discussing my daughter's marriage to a black man, and one sentence he said: "She has ruined my life", and how I explained to him, he could either accept what was or lose a granddaughter, that it was he and my mother, who taught us to appreciate people as equal regardless of race, and that she only carried this teachings a step further.
 
I was gifted the opportunity to care for my father during the last 5 years of his life and bear witness to how these two boys changed the way he once perceived things should be. I watched as they entered and warmed his heart. Understand, he was a giving and caring man, just stuck in the ways of his upbringing, and it was his great grandsons who tore down those untruths and opened his eyes to the wonderous possibilities that can occur when we do.  
I cherish those last years with my father, for we came to terms with differences stemming from long neglected disagreements.
 
I think of those socks from time to time, and wonder how my life would have been had I not taken them to school that day. It's strange how something so seemingly mundane as a pair of socks can turn out to be so life altering, for if it were not for this kind and caring teacher taking his time to engage with a small child, the grandsons I am now blessed with may never have been, and if not, would never have had the opportunity to change an old man's perspective, nor afford a father and daughter time to mend their differences.
 
I will close for now and send you this story, my friend, one of how an older distance relative of ours, came to open the eyes of a younger cousin.
 
Be well, xxxxxxx
Teri
 
PS. As I penned this story to you, I was listening to the music of the poem you sent me and thinking of your words and video, and the reason for them. You and I are not so different in the reasons we write or the reasons many of us do. We write from life experiences, experiences that help shape our destinies or give us purpose, and regardless of the reasons why, we choose to share with others in hope we can make a difference in the world, and if in this process we also find some solace for ourselves, then it was meant to be.