Ferguson. Just the name draws images in your mind. The name is now a very charged word. It’s now one we have to step lightly around for fear of saying something that might be taken in a way that wasn’t intended. So, as the grand jury report was read on the news last night, you can imagine that sinking feeling as my five year old asked why all of those people were walking around outside. And why were they mad? As he and my wife were settling down for bedtimes last night, he asked:
“Why are those people mad at each other?”
“It’s complicated son, but you know how some people have different skin colors? You know how your friend Jayvon has darker skin than you do? Well, sometimes people get mad at one another and do mean things because their skin is a different color than other people’s.”
“That’s dumb. Your skin is a different color than mine. And daddy’s skin is darker than almost anyone’s. Except for Jayvon. We ALL have different skin color.”
My boy. He is giving me hope that something I thought we could beat in my lifetime, just might happen. My boy. He is giving me hope that we are finally beginning to break a cycle older than any of us.
Out of the sadness that is pouring from the open wounds in Ferguson…springs hope. Hope that one day, we can all look back and scratch our heads and wonder why we were the way we were.