A man that I greatly respect once wrote “Be careful how high you put me on a pedestal. It’s all that much further to fall.” I’ll always remember the first time I experienced that concept. It was with my grandfather (mom’s side). I will never forget the day when I saw the warts on the man that I thought was just about perfect. It seems rather fitting that I am thinking about this on the day that honors the memory of another man I greatly respect, the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Lloyd D Edwards was a Baptist Christian that was born and raised in the south. He grew up in the depression, scratching to make a living. I don’t think he graduated high school. He did hold numerous, perhaps countless jobs. He was a border patrol officer and a policeman among others. But I remember him by what he did best. He was a salesman through and through. At the end of his working career he sold beer trucks. How awesome is that to a young impressionable high school student?
I remember that on one visit to his home in Durant, Oklahoma, he and I spent the day on the road as he was heading to the state prison for a prison ministry visit. He was trying to make a difference in the lives of men that made some bad decisions. As we were pulling out of town he pointed out a spot on the side of the road that was once the location of “the sign.” As he explained it, the sign was meant to keep his town of Durant a safe, God-fearing community free from trouble and no good.
Durant is a small town in Southeastern Oklahoma, just across the Texas border. It’s on Highway 75, which heading south will take you by Lake Texoma on the way to Dallas. Some say the best part of Durant is the new highway that takes you around it. But back in the day it went right through town. As you were driving in to town, you were met with the sign. The sign said, as my grandfather proudly told me that day, “(N word) don’t let the sun set on you in Durant.” Any African-American that ignored this warning was met with another warning that was sure to set a stronger impression.
As I heard my grandfather tell me this, I saw the first and probably only flaw the man had. My grandfather was a racist. This revelation had a huge impact on me. I was devastated. I later asked him how he could have such hatred for another man. His answer was brief – “That’s the way it is.” We never discussed it again.
Looking back his answer kind of makes sense to me. That was the culture he was raised in. He did not know anything else. This once poor, uneducated man that scraped his whole life to become a fairly well off man did not understand how wrong that was. In no way does this make it ok, but I try to understand it this way. He may have started to “get it” in his final years of living in the border town of Yuma, AZ. But despite all of that, all is not lost. His grandson gets it. As do his granddaughters. We have grown enough that we know to judge a man by his heart and not his skin.
I think we owe most of that to the other man I greatly respect. On the day we honor Martin Luther King, I still fondly remember my grandfather as a man I have always loved and respected. To me he is still pretty high on that pedestal. He stands there imperfect. His beliefs served to only steel my beliefs. I love him and I miss him. Because I chose not to share in his belief, I can do that.
No comments:
Post a Comment