THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, June 16, 1996 TAG: 9606150139
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 06 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Editorial
SOURCE: Kevin Armstrong
LENGTH: 65 lines
I was struck by the following story, told to me and 55,000 other men who gathered recently in a football stadium for reasons that have more to do with today's celebration of fathers than any athletic accomplishment.
A young girl was watching her mother prepare the family's meal and asked, ``Mother, why do we always cut off the end of the roast before we put it in the pot?''
``I don't know,'' said the mother. ``I learned it from my mother. I guess you'd better ask your grandmother.''
The girl went to find her grandmother and upon finding her posed the question: ``Grandmother, why do we always cut off the end of the roast before we put it in the pot?''
``I don't know,'' said the girl's grandmother. ``I learned it from my mother. I guess you'd better ask your great-grandmother.''
Fortunately, the girl's great-grandmother was still alive and so she went to inquire. Upon finding her, she asked, ``Great-grandmother, why do we always cut off the end of the roast before we put it in the pot?''
``I don't know,'' said the girl's great-grandmother. ``I learned it from my mother. I guess you'd better ask your great-great-grandmother.''
Amazingly enough, this girl was fortunate enough that her great-great-grandmother was still living.She sought her out and asked: ``Great-great-grandmother, why do we always cut off the end of the roast before we put it in the pot?''
``Well,'' said the girl's great-great-grandmother, ``I don't know why your mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother cut the end off the roast, but I only did it because the roast wouldn't fit in the pot I had.''
The speaker, a black minister from Brooklyn, used that illustration to begin his sermon on the sin of racism in America.
It was a sermon that I had heard addressed in a religious context only one other time. That first sermon had been delivered exactly a year earlier on the same weekend in the same stadium.
The challenge of both ministers was to stand up and be counted as the generation that finally does something to reverse the discrimination that has washed over this land for several centuries.
I count myself fortunate to be too young to remember separate drinking fountains for people of color, assigned seating for African-Americans or church balconies reserved for blacks.
I did not, however, grow up in in a color-blind society. And I wonder how much blinder my children's generation can become.
Racial division has reared its ugly head in far too many ways of late. The L.A. riots died only long enough to be re-kindled by the Simpson trial and stoked even hotter by the verdict. Now, a series of church burnings across the South has kept the flames alive.
Closer to home, the lingering distaste of the Laborfest looting and violence began to fade until a proposed dinner theater production with racial overtones proved how far we have to go. And, on Tuesday, a group of black parents will appear before the School Board to argue that their children are unfairly stereotyped and treated differently.
I don't pretend to know the hurts that these parents feel. But that shouldn't prevent me, or the School Board, from trying to understand.
Most of us don't like to tackle problems that are so much bigger than ourselves. Hope seems lost amid the masses of people involved. But it must start within each of us.
It took a young girl to finally recognize that plenty of good roast had been lost to the family dinner table over several generations. Imagine what we as a community have lost through the years in dividing ourselves by color. by CNB