The Flight for Majority will be Boarding Momentarily

David Walsh

Recess

I always wore the red, because it’s my favorite color.  I was never much of a white shirt guy, always liked a little color on me.  Plus, I knew wearing red would put me on the same team as Pak Hun, the best soccer player in the class.  Red was his favorite color too. 

Red against white was tradition; everyday we would battle it out on the blacktop.  The teams were always random, because no one ever knew who was going to wear what.  All that mattered was the red and white, not the color under the cotton.

Pak Hun from Beijing would score a goal.  Matt from Wisconsin would put in one or two for the white team.  Jeremy from Wales could be counted on as goalie. 

Occasionally someone would fall and scrap their knee, or cut their elbow.  The blood was always red. 

A New Shade

The Hendersons moved in about eleven months before we moved out.  They were a family of three; their only son’s name was Marcus.  Both of Marcus’s parents worked.

Marcus was the goofiest kid I ever knew.  He was always laughing.  I remember in class he used to tell jokes, but half the time he couldn’t finish telling the joke without cracking up in mid sentence. 

The surprising thing about Marcus was he knew everything about everything.  He knew math, science, and history.  His Civil Rights share and tell was the best in the class.

The Hendersons didn’t stay long.  They moved back to Chicago, or where ever it was they came from, only months before I did. 

The Hendersons were the first African American family I had ever met.

The Concrete Jungles

Building upon building, person upon person; Hong Kong and New York could have been sisters. 

I was so happy to see that my new life would not be as different as I thought.  Skyscrapers still had people squinting at the sun, pollution sweetened the air, and the colorful river of people flooded the sidewalks.

At that age, I was too young to understand diversity, but all the difference seemed the same. 

The First Day

Math class, with Mr. Ricapido, was my first class in Coleytown Middle School.  It took me a long time to learn everyone’s name. 

It was kind of like learning the names of Dalmatians; you really had to count the spots to pick them apart.

“You used to live in Hong Kong? Wow, that’s weird.  Are you Chinese?”

“Hey, do you have any Chinese friends?”

“Yea, don’t you?”

Basketball

The practice before the game against New Haven, the coach talked to us about “different neighborhoods.”  What does that have to do with basketball and the fact that the competition will be much more athletic that use? 

“You’re going to have to beat them by playing smart.”

New Haven wore white, and we wore blue.  Most of the players on the New Haven squad complimented our uniforms.  I got the impression this was out of the ordinary by my teammate’s reactions.

“Ha-ha, it would be so intimidating to have a black kid on our team.  Even if he’s no good he’s still black.”

In this game, on this court, in this country, the white and blue didn’t matter like the red and white of the soccer games.  The color under the cotton always subdued the color above.     

Any Day of the Week

I never knew having my eyes open could leave me blinder than having them shut.