04-18-2006, 03:39 PM
What follows are a few miscellaneous memories about race when I was growing up.
I grew up in Brooklyn in an integrated neighborhood with integrated schools. In grammar school all my classes were mixed. In Jr. High school I was in an "SP" class for kids who were able to skip a grade based on their test scores. There were no blacks in any SP classes. After I made it to High school there were again blacks in my classes.
I used to play handball all the time. I played with whoever was on the courts. One day I was playing with 3 black guys. Some Italian girls were playing on the other side. When their ball came over, instead of giving it right back to them, the black guys teased the girls a bit. That night I had to fight an Italian guy who declared me to be a n___r lover.
One night the Italian kids were chasing the black kids out of the playground. One of the blacks threw something at the Italians. It hit an Italian kid in the head and killed him. Both the Italian teenager who was killed, and the black teenager who killed him were mean sadistic unpleasant guys. I did not mourn the absence of either one from the neighborhood. A white friend of mine asked me if I was going to come and help with the fights (they never actually materialized.) I said I didn't know whose side to be on.
I grew up in Brooklyn in an integrated neighborhood with integrated schools. In grammar school all my classes were mixed. In Jr. High school I was in an "SP" class for kids who were able to skip a grade based on their test scores. There were no blacks in any SP classes. After I made it to High school there were again blacks in my classes.
I used to play handball all the time. I played with whoever was on the courts. One day I was playing with 3 black guys. Some Italian girls were playing on the other side. When their ball came over, instead of giving it right back to them, the black guys teased the girls a bit. That night I had to fight an Italian guy who declared me to be a n___r lover.
One night the Italian kids were chasing the black kids out of the playground. One of the blacks threw something at the Italians. It hit an Italian kid in the head and killed him. Both the Italian teenager who was killed, and the black teenager who killed him were mean sadistic unpleasant guys. I did not mourn the absence of either one from the neighborhood. A white friend of mine asked me if I was going to come and help with the fights (they never actually materialized.) I said I didn't know whose side to be on.