“Infinite diversity in infinite combinations… symbolizing the elements that create truth and beauty.
The day is dark. Rain is coming and will stay around until tomorrow. I sat out on the deck for a bit, but the breeze was damp and even a bit chilly so I came back inside the house. Today is a slow day, no dates, appointments or obligations. My to do list is small: a few plants to pot and a trip to the hardware store. It’s not a click your heels in the air sort of day!
The town where I grew up was mostly Irish and Italian. Marconi Hall was and still is a social hub. I remember going to a square dance there when I was in the ninth grade, and all the family celebrations are still held there. The town has several churches all in the same area, all on different corners. The first synagogue wasn’t built until the 1960’s. All my friends went with me to St. Pat’s Grammar School. I only knew a few kids who went to public school. The town seemed small back then, but it had everything. Most stores were up-town, but corner variety stores were common and we had a few sub and pizza places. The miniature golf course and the Chinese restaurant shared the same parking lot. Bowling was popular for date night. We only had candlepin, the small balls. I love my town.
My town in those days had no Blacks or Hispanics. It was as homogeneous as they come. Most towns in the area were. None of us noticed.
I saw my first Black person when I was three. My mother and I were in Boston in the elevator at Sears, and a Black woman got on. My mother told me I pointed and asked why the woman looked like chocolate, probably my sole frame of reference. The woman got angry, yelled, called us white trash and got off the elevator. I don’t remember any of it, but my mother said she was totally embarrassed by the woman’s screaming. I wouldn’t meet another person of color until I was in College.
I always think it a bit humorous I ended up in Africa where I was the anomaly.
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keepthecoffeecoming.blog 
August 16, 2010 at 2:53 pm
Sweden had just gotten the first waves of immigrants when I grew up. Well there had always been immigrants but not in that scale that came then. Most of them were from Finland and some of them from Italy and Jugoslavia. We needed more workers in the factories and Europe were still suffering from WW2.
Nowdays it´s a totally different thing. Around 11% of our population is immigrants and I like it. Sweden were such a closed country before but with all immigrants new traditions and ideas colors our daily life.
Have a great day now!
Christer.
August 16, 2010 at 9:20 pm
Christer,
My neighbors are originally from Brazil and the renters next story are Albania, here only three years. I have no idea what any of them are saying. It’s amazing.
August 16, 2010 at 7:07 pm
Well save this one for the coffee table book. I had to get kleenex I was laughing so hard. Uppity Goddamn Kid, she must have thought. I grew up in D.C. as I’ve written here before so wouldn’t have a memory of the first black person I saw. In the military it never made any difference and everywhere we went on any post, even the ones in Europe, had black people in uniform so I can really imagine what a shock it was for you to see a different color skin.
I remember the pizza parlor as a teen and how the guy never checked for age. At 17 I had my first beer there. Beer and Pizza slices 25 cents a slice, 38 cents for a glass of beer. I felt so much like an adult I even told a girl I wanted to date “oh we’re going to the pizza joint for pizza and beer”. I will never forget the look in her eyes. Don’t think I impressed her. But it was fun and it caught on with teens in our high school. They never shut the place down.
August 16, 2010 at 9:21 pm
Z&Me,
My mother always told the story so well. She said anyone in the vicinity turned and looked, adding to her embarrassment. I never saw my second black person until I was a freshman in college. After college, every one I saw was black!
August 18, 2010 at 5:01 pm
Would you believe my daughter, at age three, did the exact same thing?! She was born in Japan and we moved back to the States when she was three. She was born in 1984 so this is truly hard to believe, but we really had not seen so many African Americans where we lived in Japan. Anyway, this was in Rhode Island as we were getting into a car, and she pointed and said, “Look mommy, it’s a chocolate man!” I think she must have said it in Japanese, but the young man just laughed. I, of course, was mortified…. I can’t believe someone else did that!! Daughter is now 25 living in a tiny town in Texas and no doubt standing out for being half Japanese. Speaks Japanese and Spanish fluently… prepared to go anywhere and do anything.
August 18, 2010 at 8:25 pm
Sara,
Your daughter and I not only shared a similar experience but also shared a mortified mother! That woman thoroughly embarrassed my poor mother.
I figure chocolate is a universal: in Boston or Japan!
Funny that the two of us were the same age.