Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
The following article reminded me of the day I buried the N-word.
The Democrats' Fake Hate Crime [Mark Steyn]
It was long ago, somewhere in a distant small town in Kansas. When young boys and young men used to take pride and joy in driving to the local landfill with their granddads, dads or uncles.
Like Abraham Lincoln these were men of awe inspiring times in which dreams and hope for a unknowing future were made.
On that distant day, little did I know this trip was to be different. As we turned off the highway and onto the dirt road leading to the landfill my granddad started into an outspoken discussion of seemingly disgust. As I gazed off into the landfill distance I could see a bulldozer working its way around a heap of trash. I could not follow or comprehend my granddads seemingly diatribe of argumentative statements. He was upset, upset that someone was at the landfill who in my trips with him before had never been there. Even the bulldozer seemed so odd and out of place.
What I knew is that for the first time in my life I was going to see a real bulldozer in operation and up close. Truly awe inspiring for such a young lad as I would imagine.
As we pulled into the landfill entrance the bulldozer stopped moving, left idle and the gentleman unmounted the cabin and walked towards our truck. It was an elderly black man probably of the same age as my granddad. The two men talked briefly about were to dump the load of seemingly trash. I remember the elderly black man pointing in a specific direction and spot to dump our load. My eyes still gazed in wonderment at the idling bulldozer. All seemed well with the two men as they parted ways. The black man went back and mounted the bulldozer and off he and his bulldozer went about their tasks.
As my granddad pulled away I noticed he was not headed into the direction the black man had pointed to. He was headed in the opposite direction. He drove and stopped the pickup and we got out to unload the truck. As I helped to unload the truck my gaze was still upon the bulldozer in operation moving about the heap of trash. Little did I know that day, I buried something else which I am forever grateful of my granddad.
That day I left the N-word out upon the heap of trash long buried to this day. All I saw that day was a man with the God given knowledge, skills and abilities to operate a bulldozer. On that day, I buried the N-word, I wanted to be that black man. Despite what my granddad may have thought, I took away something powerful that day.
Thank You Granddad, God Bless Your Soul.
Posted by bmo at 7:58 AM