When I was growing up here in Franklin, segregation was the norm. There was a “colored” waiting room at the doctor’s office. There were separate elementary and high schools. Babysitters, maids and laborers were all black. Doctors and lawyers and teachers were all white. So was our little country club and I can remember the black children riding their bikes up and hanging around the fence until a lifeguard chased them off.
It wasn’t right or wrong to us. It just was.
Truthfully, if you had asked me back then if we’d ever have black president, I would’ve told you with all the sincerity that a 10 year old can muster that we wouldn’t. Of course, I would’ve said the same thing about a woman. I also would’ve told you that King Arthur was the greatest man ever and that if I didn’t get a pony for Christmas I would d-i-e die!
But today, in my 50th year, it’s all changed. We’re by no means perfect, but we have come a long, long way.
Because today my doctor is black and my cleaning lady is white.
Oh, and my president? He’s black too.