One of my only memories that ring crystal-clearly in my head is one of total intolerance. It actually comprises two separate events, but they are so closely related that I cannot think about one without thinking also about the other. The details are foggy. I can’t recall if it was my birthday, or some such other special occasion, but I had a group of classmates over to my home in Virginia. I was in early grade school, but cannot remember which grade, either. None of that really matters. The point is, one of my friends was a black kid named Jared. Continue reading “Racist Parenting”
From Both Sides of the Bed 