I get it that many of you think I don't "get it."
That said, I do have a heart for the less fortunate. My father (rest his soul), a pastor, spent the better part of 30 years ministering in the so-called black community of North Portland...beginning in the late-60's, early 70's, when you'd drive down Vancouver and Williams Avenues and see steel bars, etc. across most of the windows. The church was on N. Wygant & Vancouver Ave. We're talkin' the era of the LA Watts riots, Martin Luther King's assassination, and otherwise general racial mayhem across most of the country.
My dad's calling was racial reconciliation and he did a fine job of fulfilling that call on his life. In fact, at his funeral/memorial in 2016, the building was full of many of those black folks that gave tearful testimony of what he had meant to them, and the tremendous impact he had in and on their lives. They loved him, and he loved them.
Back in the day, I was the only little white kid at that church. I'll have to admit, it was a very difficult time for me, as a number of the other kids - particularly, girls - would verbally abuse me. I even got spit on once. Even though it was a church environment, kids will still do mean things. It was too much for me to bear at the time, and I quit going to church with my parents. On Sunday mornings, I'd just stay home or go up to the neighborhood bowling alley and hang out. I was 13. Although, I will have to say that I had great relationships with virtually all the parents at the church, and still have a few connections in that regard. It was sad (and now that I think of it, kinda weird) that my only relationship issues stemmed from those 10-12 year old girls.
That all said, and I guess the greater point, the church did have a teen center which my father helped establish. I used to love going there on Saturdays and summer weekdays and hang out with the older kids that dropped by. I really enjoyed that experience. Again, even though I was the only white boy, the older teens kinda took me under their wings. It was a cool experience all the way around. Racial discord was erupting all around us (and nationally), and here I was playing ping-pong, chess/checkers, and the like with my black friends. I suppose we kinda scoffed at all that other garbage.
I could share many other stories, but, suffice it say my father took big risks driving this pasty white family down the streets of NoPo every week. Was my dad all that? Not necessarily, However, the deal was, he cared and took steps to help find solutions to to these social issues. Granted, we're talking a small sampling of the community at large, but he still made a difference for the better in a number of people's lives. By the way, some of those same "kids" gave testimony at his memorial service.
Kids become adults, parents, and the like. Good place to start IMO.
