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Originally Posted by Jerry101
I keep hearing from others that because I am a white man ... I am a person of privilege. I always bristled at that suggestion. How can anyone who’s never walked a step in my shoes suggest that? ... and then I realized they were right after all! I had the privilege of having a loving mom and dad! They loved their four kids unconditionally! We ended every night with prayer! We said a prayer of thanks at every meal. We started every Sunday morning at Sunday school and then worshiped together in church. All four of us kids were there when we buried our parents. Today the four of us are nothing special ... but we know ... by faith... that Jesus is Lord! I’m sorry ... you are right... I am a person of privilege! Amen!
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That’s what happened at my house, too, and I’m grateful for that privilege. It has colored my whole life, as it was meant to.
I’ve had privileges in my life, too. Not because of my ethnicity, but because I worked hard, obeyed the laws, lived frugally, chose a great wife and carefully raised wonderful, very intelligent children. This was available to nearly everyone in America willing to make similar educational choices and defer gratification. Now I own a house in The Villages. Hey, if you live here, you are privileged, right? It’s a privilege to live in this beautiful, neatly kept, very safe place where there is so much to do.
I’d like to mention that during the civil rights period from 1960-1967, my grandfather was a preacher and also the circulation manager for two national popular religious monthly magazines, “These Times,” “for the white folk,” and “Message,” “for the colored,” as they would say. The first had an all white editorial staff. The second had an all black editorial staff. They were published by the same publisher and printed on the same presses in Nashville. My grandfather (born in North Dakota of Danish and Norwegian parents) worked equally for both. Half his preaching was done in “white” churches, mostly in the South, and half of his preaching was done in “black” churches. Usually, he would first preach in a “white” church, then race across town to preach in the “black” church, as they would just be warming up about the time the “white” church members were going home. I got to travel to these churches with him. He was loved in both types of church, and he loved the food served after the second service. I did, too. Under the seat of his Rambler he kept a shotgun with a twelve inch barrel and a pistol grip. For safety in the “black” part of town? No, for safety in case a few angry “whites” tried to stop him as he was leaving town. They did try to stop him a few times, and he had to wave that one-handed little shotgun (never loaded or fired). It definitely changed some minds! The people in the “black” churches loved their families at least as much as the people in the “white” churches. There were differences in privileges and educational opportunities and choices, but in all those churches, people were learning the message and trying to live it. That privilege was available to all, and you are right to point it out.