Wednesday, December 31, 2008
She Has a Dream
4:54 PM | Posted by
Steve |
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In 1964 I was seven years old. My family lived in our new 1,100 square foot wood frame house on a gravel road in the country somewhere between Benton and Little Rock, Arkansas.
One day, my mother and I drove into the small, quiet town of Benton to buy groceries at the Safeway store because it was the only real grocery store around. After I begged a lot, she gave in and treated me to a dime so I could ride the little, mechanical pony at the front of the store. As I put my dime in the machine, another little boy walked up tenderly and asked if he could ride, too. I said, "Yes!" and we rode the little pony together, laughing and playing and climbing on each other like little boys do.
When the time ran out, I ran back to ask for another dime, and the other boy came a little later, lagging behind. My mother reached into her purse for another dime, but when she saw the other little boy, she left the dime in her purse and said, "I don't think you should ride the pony again."
I knew what she meant, and I was angry. "Momma," I said, "He's a boy just like me." But, I didn't get the dime; and, I had to say goodbye to the other little boy.
Last night, my three year old daughter was looking at a coloring book as I was cooking dinner. "Daddy," she said, "When I grow up I want to be a dancer."
"Well you certainly can be," I replied, "Or, you could be President or anything else you want to be."
"No," she said and pointed at the cover of the book. "I want to be this girl when I grow up."
I looked at the book and saw that, of the several girls on the cover, she had decided that she wanted to be the black girl.
"Sweetie," I said, "I think that would be nice."
- Originally written February 2008
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- Sometimes you think I'm daydreaming, but I'm actually thinking about something. No, really. Honestly. Sometimes.