The Rose Parade, Joan Williams and '50's Style Racism
In January of 1958 I had just turned eleven years old. I was in sixth grade, and had already had my first lesson in racism. We had moved to Denver , Colorado two years before and I had wanted to go to a certain amusement park. It was, “restricted” and my mother made it clear that we would NEVER go to that amusement park until they opened it to (my mother’s word), “Negros.” Now, the interesting thing is that my mother harbored lots of stereotypical ideas about Blacks. She was, after all, a child of her era, just as I am a child of mine. But to her, discrimination was, “un-American” (also her word). I had learned my first lesson in civic morality. There are some things that are morally wrong and a morally right person does not do those things. One time zone to the west, in sunny southern California , some adults (who had not been raised as well as my mo...