Mississippi Comforts by Ray Flowers

Author:Ray Flowers
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-63710-414-9
Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc
Published: 2021-09-13T17:37:58+00:00

Chapter 13

Intentional Prejudice

Age fifteen

For the last two weeks, in English Class, we have been studying Oliver Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels. Swift used a massive amount of satire of the English throne, government, and people. I am enjoying it because I love clever satire, and this is certainly one of those.

In the book, Gulliver encounters the Lilliputians. The Lilliputians are men six inches in height but possessing all the pretension and self-importance of full-sized men. They are mean and nasty, vicious, morally corrupt, hypocritical and deceitful, jealous and envious, filled with greed and ingratitude—they are, in fact, completely human. Also, in the book, the little people go to war over such things as whether or not to use butter or syrup on pancakes.

I am fifteen years old. Even I, a youngster, can clearly see the absurdity of the story. It is utterly ridiculous and inhumane. And so is racism.

One of the duties and responsibilities I have now that I have my driver’s license is to go get Willie Mae, our cook and helper. It’s a crisp autumn morning. I travel from our street, Broad Street, over to McCord. I then take a right onto McCord Street and then a left onto Main Street. I see many big oaks losing beautiful, colorful leaves. The leaves are in the street. That route is the only route to her house where I don’t have to go through a less than safe area. When I was younger, my mama would call a morning like this a “Blue Horse” morning. That meant it was fall and time to go to the store and get me a tablet for writing that happened to have a blue horse on the cover.

So today qualifies as a “Blue Horse” morning. It is absolutely clear, very few high clouds, and cold.

As I turn right headed for her house, I come to a four-way stop intersection. I stop. On my left, I see the business of Alvin Carty, a friend of mine and my family’s. He runs a black ambulance/funeral business, as did his father. He is a natural leader and has a fine reputation in town. On the right, I see an open field, an empty field, but not totally empty today. I see three wooden crosses still burning, still smoldering from a blaze which occurred a few hours earlier. I don’t move. I absorb what I was seeing.

I could only imagine what hatred those cowardly men had for themselves in order to lower themselves to join an organization which promotes their own race as “the chosen” and other races of people are inherently inferior. The irony is that they even chose to hide their identity with white capes and white hats and, in this era, rode in trucks rather than on horseback as did the previous generations of extremists. My friend, Alvin Carty, whose skin happens to be black was their target a couple of hours earlier. As I linger at the intersection, I see Alvin’s car, knowing he is at home.

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