During a brief pause in the action, we were able to steal away for a moment, and he and I scooted to Tiff's truck. We needed to grab more ice, milk and water, like always around that time of day, things were beginning to get low.
As my son and I were lugging ice and milk jugs to my shop, plenty of women, dressed for a warm summer day, very conspicuously, to put it kindly, clutched their purses nice and close. While at the same time, giving that slight glance of alarm and apprehension that I've been exposed to, many, many, many more times than I care to recall. So many times, its no more consequential than a bird chirping, or the smell of a barbecue on Memorial Day. But today was much different, because Ian, my son took notice. When we packed up and were in the car on the way home, he asked me in his usual inquisitive tone, "Daddy, why were all of those ladies looking so scared, grabbing their purses like that around us?”
I then took a deep breath and I told him one of the few lies I've ever spoken to him, but also a truth in the same breath. I said, “Ian, I don’t know. I really just don't know." And then my heart became sad, because from now on, he is going to experience what I prayed he never would. He is becoming a Black Man in America.
And, I am going to still teach him to love a country that may never respect him nor love him back, because of the idea of America and what it could be.
