MLK

Here's what I think of on Martin Luther King Day.
The least bigoted and most bigoted people I've ever known were all family members.
The most bigoted; I'm not going to say.
The least bigoted is probably the wrong way to put it. No prejudice whatsoever; my Mom and Dad.
Growing up as Navy brats we just didn't see color. In fact, two of my parents closest friends were a couple of mixed race.
I remember Beeville, Texas (c. 1967) as my brother and I walked to school, two fellow students who were black crossed the street...away from us. They weren't allowed  to walk on the same side of the street as us.
I remember my brother and I racing ahead of the rest of our family and holding the door of the local five-and-dime store for my mother and two sisters and the next group, a black woman and her children.
They said, "thank you."
We said, "you're welcome,"  never giving it a second thought.
I remember two men, true Texans wearing boots and cowboy hats making a remark.
Yes it was "that" word.
It might have been mumbled under their breath.
It was loud enough for my Old Man to hear.
He told us to go inside.
We did.
The Old Man lit them up.
I remember watching the new bulletins in 1968 announcing Martin Luther King's death and the expression on the Old Man's face.
Forty four years ago.
So much has changed.
We have so far to go.