Attitude Adjustment and Race Relations

This past Friday (June 7, 2013) we attended the Ohio High School Athletic Association's State Track and Field Meet for a brief period. Primarily, we were there this year to see a grand-nephew compete in the Division III discus event. He finished second! Congratulations, Dakota!

Attending the state track and field meet was a yearly happening for me much of my life. It didn't matter whether I knew anyone competing a particular year or not. I went because I'm a track junkie and the state meet was my yearly fix. I went to see coaching and officiating friends as well as to watch wonderful young athletes stretch themselves. I think I've shared before on this blog that I not only was a track participant in high school (Ottawa-Glandorf) and college (ONU), but I also coached several age group track and field teams in Miamisburg, Urbana, and Lima. Track has provided me many wonderful friends and memories!

Being at the state meet at the Jesse Owens' facility on The OSU campus reignited this spot in my soul that feels the need to reflect on my personal journey regarding racial attitudes and the adjustment that happened in me. It wasn't a solitary event that produced the changed attitude though. Here's a summary that I fear will be oversimplified in the interest of fitting a blog post. This is my story and it is not my intent to cast blame or persecute anyone or any place that shared aspects of the journey with me.

I was privileged to grow up in the small county seat of Putnam County, Ottawa, Ohio. They were wonderful years full of very positive memories: neighborhood baseball games in Danny Ruhe's backyard, basketball games in our backyard, daily stops after school at Radabaugh and Otto's (formerly Corkwell's), working in dad's egg plant, riding bikes to the city park to swim, play basketball and flirt, hanging out at Sam's, delivering eggs to local grocery stores and Schwartz's bakery, ice skating on the east side, overnighters with friends, scouts, hanging out in the hall prior to the start of school, holding elaborate neighborhood track meets which were only popular with a few of us but included our neighbor, Jeff Huggins, who broke most of my high school records and in my estimation may have been one of the most gifted athletes ever to come out of that area. And then there were the church activities and the dating and band/choir and the Cymbols and dances and the deep and long-lasting friendships, even though not nearly as nurtured over the years as cherished.

I could go on and on, but the others will have to come in another blog post dealing with some other thought-provoking reflection. The point for now is simply I do not remember very many experiences growing up that involved persons of another race. We were primarily a predominately white community. Oh, there was the occasional child of migrant workers that attended school for awhile, but, for the most part our world-view was devoid of color. In my younger years I don't remember much discussion about people of color but as I got older there were the comments here and there that left me with the impression that some people regarded black people and Mexicans as people others didn't like - didn't want to be around or have around. I'm not sure it was ever mentioned why that was the way it was or ever overtly stated. There were just the comments and the jokes. I probably even entertained repeating some of them.

Probably the first inkling I had that there was a different way to regard people who weren't white was in Sunday School at Trinity United Methodist Church in Ottawa. It was one of those Sunday School favorite hymns that started the wheels in my heart, head and spirit to start spinning a different tape in me. "Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white, all are precious in His sight, Jesus loves the little children of the world." Hmmm.....what might this attitude of Jesus' the church proclaims have to say to this other more commonly accepted attitude? I began to wonder and ponder more and more. The conflict in my soul was on.

Then came high school and athletics. Again, I think I've mentioned before in one of my posts that I was fast - I had some speed as a runner - I could pick them up and put them down at a good pace. I had a couple of track and field teammates at the time who were also very talented in their events. Luckily, we had a coach and an athletic director who thought it was important for us to face competitors that would stretch us. And so, we had the opportunity to compete in big meets around the state - meets like the Mansfield, Princeton and Toledo Blade Relays.

On more than one occasion I was the only white sprinter to make it to the finals in the 100 yard dash. I can honestly say to you that not once did I hear any one of the other guys on the line say anything to make me feel uncomfortable. I felt accepted as one of them - a fellow sprinter. Oh, as we got better acquainted over the years there was the occasional "are you sure you're in the right place, whitey," always said in jest by one of the guys by then I considered friends. Not so, twenty or thirty yards from the starting line however.

Just before the race we would take a few practice run outs from the starting blocks. These usually consisted of about a twenty to thirty yard sprint. It was at that point that I would hear from someone along the side of the track or from the stands "you go, whitey, beat those niggers!" "Show them whose best!" "Put them in their place!" It wasn't the words alone that got to me though. It was the venomous emotion with which they were said - the obvious hatred that accompanied them. I couldn't believe it! I have to admit that I intentionally did not look the direction from which the comments came. I did not want to know who said them. Perhaps I was even afraid it would be someone I knew. While the battle for my soul continued around me and within, there was no question where the line was and on which side of the line I was on. Racism, prejudice, and bigotry were evil and doing nothing about the inner voices could no longer be entertained as somehow acceptable.

Then came college with black and white teammates as well as classmates and challenging interactions and conversations. Coupled with the national attention to issues of race it was a turbulent time. Despite my conversion to the importance of racial equality and the need to beat back racism in myself and society I was challenged by those who became personal friends that I had more work to do - and we all always will, friends. I am indebted to such people as Houston, Curtis, Dale, Diane, Bailey, Skip, Jim, Bill, and several others who cared enough about the potential for change that they risked their popularity on campus by raising issues when they needed to be raised and challenged even those of us already at least somewhat aware of the issues involved and the need for more to be done. It both hurt and was helpful.

Some of the other experiences that helped me with the attitude adjustment about racial issues included hearing Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. speak in Taft gym on the ONU campus my freshman year, just a few months before he was murdered, being on a multi-ethnic YMCA camp staff for two summers, and working with the Black Panthers on the west side of Dayton during seminary. But, perhaps the best, most satisfying, and most positive experiences happened around the age-group track and field teams in Urbana and Lima, particularly in Lima when we had a group of white and black coaches and parents who enjoyed track and working with children, but who also genuinely liked and cared for one another. There were numerous times when we had tears in our eyes while watching our kids run on a relay team and encourage one another, witnessed them standing along the track cheering their teammates on, hugging and high-fiving one another, or saw them sitting in the stands together sharing a meal or having an intense conversation. Was it always good? No. We and they didn't always get it right. But it was enough of a glimpse of heaven to deepen our hope for the fulfillment of the dream.

Have you seen the movie "42" yet? It's the story of Jackie Robinson and Branch Rickey's integration of Major League Baseball. You really need to see it and so do the younger generations. We need to constantly remind ourselves of what the journey has been like and what still needs to be done. Seeing it a few weeks ago was partially what lit the fire in my belly to share my story. So was the viewing of the Cheerios commercial and some of the reactions to it. Let me end this post, dangerously close to a dissertation, on this note: "as for me and my house, we're eating Cheerios!"
     
Well, there it is: my journey with having my attitude adjusted about race relations. I hope I haven't left anyone with the impression that I feel I've got my act totally together around race relations. I know we all have plenty of room for further growth. We need to keep working on it. My only hope with this piece is to cause others to pause and reconsider their attitudes and possible adjustments to it that might lead us to a better world.

Peace and God's blessings on you all!