The child of ignorance and fear

When I was in high school, the city of Boston was conducting a statewide contest for short poems to stamp on tiles. These tiles would be used in the new T stations in town. So, given it was the city and the 70s during the forced busing era, I submitted the following:

The clouds of prejudice
rain ignorance and fear
on the cities below

Not Robert Frost, but good, I thought. I never heard back so I'm assuming it wasn't chosen. Just as well. It'd be covered in cigarette butts and discarded Charlie cards by now.

My parents raised their kids to be open-minded and accepting of people who are different from us. Race, creed, language, religion - none of it ever came into play when they or we chose friends. There were plenty of people on my street growing up who were outraged that a Jewish family was moving in next door to us. My parents welcomed their new neighbors as they were welcomed by others when they arrived years before.

The Byers family lived next door to us for many years and were always there for my folks. Frank Byers was a fairly successful business man. When my dad was out of work, Frank suddenly came up with a million odd jobs he needed done: his house needed painting, his car needed an oil change, etc. And, because he was so busy, he just never had the time to do it himself. Wouldn't my dad have some time now? And, of course, it would come with pay.

When Frank's daughter got into some trouble with the law, my folks stood by them both privately and publicly. When the Byers' house caught on fire, my folks welcomed them into our home and stayed up all night with them while the firefighters came in for my mom's fresh coffee, and the Byerses tried to come to grips with losing everything in their home.

I didn't know then that the other neighbors shunned our next door neighbors. It wasn't till Frank died and my dad was the only neighbor who went to the temple that I started to look at my neighbors with clearer vision.

I've encountered anti-Semitism all my life. And, as I was raised to do, I do not sit silently when a prejudiced comment is made. After all, as dad said, "Silence is acceptance." The new phrase is "Speak truth to power." Same thing; just more empowering.

It's no less upsetting to me at almost 51 years old than it was then. I thought by now I'd be able to respond with less emotion and more steady reason than I did when I was younger. I can't. And, quite frankly, don't feel I should have to.

If ignorance and fear create prejudice, then reason and acceptance should prevail. But how do you act and speak reasonably, and accept someone who is hateful? I hope that by the time I figure that out, there will be no more prejudice for me to have to react to. Until then, I will not be silent.