Some Things Will Never Change
Along about 1986 or 1987, Bruce Hornsby had a hit with "The Way It Is," a song about prejudice and discrimination. The lyric includes this refrain:
We're conditioned to think that the New Year brings about change, that the world is somehow renewed. But I was made painfully aware that the opposite is at least as true by a situation right here on my street--the street I live on.
This is the house across the street from me. Until a few days ago, a good neighbor named Steve owned it. Sometime back in November or December he put this house on the market. (The sale sign is visible just over the back of my brother-in-law's truck.) I knew the house was for sale, of course, and wondered what sort of luck Steve would have in selling it.
On Christmas Eve, I was leaving the house when Steve came across the road to say he'd enjoyed having me and mine as neighbors. If I understood him correctly, he said he'd lived in that house for 30 years! He didn't know if I'd heard that he'd gotten married recently and that he and his new wife were moving into a new place together.
I hadn't heard. With Thanksgiving, the flurry of the semester's end and then Christmas prep, I didn't know much of anything beyond the fact that the sale sign was in the front yard.
Anyway, he told me that he and the woman who runs this little real estate company managed some rental property together, and he'd sold the house to one of their renters, an African-American couple who were looking to buy.
Then he passed on a tidbit of information that inspired the title and beginning of this entry. The German lady who lives a couple of houses up the street, upon hearing that he was going to sell, had asked him not to sell to black people.
Unbelievable, I thought. And yet believable. Will these prejudices never pass? Apparently not for a good while.
Steve said the buyers were good folks and then wondered if somebody else might not have easily said, "Don't sell to any Germans!"
I'm looking forward to welcoming my new neighbors. They were moving in New Year's night when we returned home from North Carolina. I'm sure they've been busy. In fact, I haven't even seen them yet. If an opportunity doesn't present itself soon, I'll just go over and knock on the door.
That's just the way it is
Some things will never change
That's just the way it is. . . .
But don't you believe them.
We're conditioned to think that the New Year brings about change, that the world is somehow renewed. But I was made painfully aware that the opposite is at least as true by a situation right here on my street--the street I live on.
This is the house across the street from me. Until a few days ago, a good neighbor named Steve owned it. Sometime back in November or December he put this house on the market. (The sale sign is visible just over the back of my brother-in-law's truck.) I knew the house was for sale, of course, and wondered what sort of luck Steve would have in selling it.
On Christmas Eve, I was leaving the house when Steve came across the road to say he'd enjoyed having me and mine as neighbors. If I understood him correctly, he said he'd lived in that house for 30 years! He didn't know if I'd heard that he'd gotten married recently and that he and his new wife were moving into a new place together.
I hadn't heard. With Thanksgiving, the flurry of the semester's end and then Christmas prep, I didn't know much of anything beyond the fact that the sale sign was in the front yard.
Anyway, he told me that he and the woman who runs this little real estate company managed some rental property together, and he'd sold the house to one of their renters, an African-American couple who were looking to buy.
Then he passed on a tidbit of information that inspired the title and beginning of this entry. The German lady who lives a couple of houses up the street, upon hearing that he was going to sell, had asked him not to sell to black people.
Unbelievable, I thought. And yet believable. Will these prejudices never pass? Apparently not for a good while.
Steve said the buyers were good folks and then wondered if somebody else might not have easily said, "Don't sell to any Germans!"
I'm looking forward to welcoming my new neighbors. They were moving in New Year's night when we returned home from North Carolina. I'm sure they've been busy. In fact, I haven't even seen them yet. If an opportunity doesn't present itself soon, I'll just go over and knock on the door.
God, help us be better at living together in this world!
posted by mac | 12:57 PM
3 Comments:
Hi Michael,
Yes, I can believe it. Back in 1971 I was visiting, my then in-laws, when I started talking about one of my new friends from work. His name was Otto Baader, thats right, a German. My then Mother-in-law was.... in England I would say "beside her self" with anger and amazement that I could be friends with a German! After all, the war (WW11), had only been over 25 years!!!!
Dennis
Glad to have you back, Dennis. I hope you all had a wonderful trip!
Things always change. It just changed on the street you live on. And I'll bet (if you remember my German grandmother's story), your new neighbors will become friends with that German lady! Have a block party for your new neighbors and invite them all!
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