How Do We Make it Better

There have been various times in my life when I have been placed in a position where I had to make a decision about what I believed. The decision was always the same. Was my belief based on words, or actions? What good is a belief system that is not backed up with some kind of active support?

When I was in second grade I had a sometime friend I will call "TA". TA came from a family poorer than my own, and for that reason we had a lot in common and would play together. Unfortunately, TA also frequently stank of urine, and for that reason I would sometimes refuse TA my company. TA also happened to have been of Mexican decent (I hope that's not an incorrect term now - if it is, I apologize - also, correct me - don't leave me in ignorance). Where I grew up that made TA's family one of two I knew of who were not "American". "JP's" family was Korean. They fit in because they dressed like everyone else and talked like everyone else. TA didn't fit in because of "talking funny", wearing ratty clothes and smelling bad. So what did I do for TA? I was friends with TA - when it was convenient for me, and when it cost me nothing. Did I believe in equality as a second grader? Apparently not.

In the summer between my Freshman and Sophomore years our house burned. (Yes, The Old Haunted House.) My family had a new house built on the same site, but while we waited for that to happen we lived in another school district and attended a different school. While at that school I made exactly zero friends. I was too shy to introduce myself to anyone, and the school was too large for anyone to notice me (there were over a thousand in my grade alone). It wasn't too bad. I became a straight "A" student as a result. But it was kind of dull.

We returned to our regular school right after the Christmas Break. That was when I met "ML". ML was a new student at my regular school. I met him in Art class. It didn't take me long to find out that my classmates had already established a pattern with ML. They would tease him by saying his name as though it were synonimous with stupidity. ML wasn't stupid, but he did have a slight speech impediment. ML took an almost instant liking to me. I don't know if it was because I didn't poke fun at him or if it was because I had already reached 6'2" in height, so when he was with me he seldom was teased. (My sister, Gayanne had reached her final height of 6'4", and Helvie was at 6'0". Helvie and I were still growing. Our classmates might make fun of us, but few dared to do it to our faces. It was a short community. There weren't many boys that tall in this school.) I liked ML. But only in Art class. Before and after class I had nothing to do with him. It was the only class we shared and I didn't look for him away from it. About halfway through the second semester, ML quit coming to school. Eventually I found out why. ML had suffered a complete nervous collapse and was now in an institution. Why did this happen? He had no friends. Twenty-seven weeks of continuous harrassment had taken its toll. I have no idea what happened to him after that. Did I believe in friendship as a tenth grader? The evidence is against it.

Fast forward twenty years. I am second in command in a deparment of programmers. Our current project is behind schedule and the Manager (MGR) has convinced the company owner to hire an entry level programmer to deal with minor things, thus freeing the experienced staff to tackle the stubborn tasks that resist logical solution. The decision on who to hire will ultimately be the Owner's, but MGR and I will have significant input. Owner's expertise is sales., not programming. She is probably going to go with whomever we recommend.

In typical fashion, MGR brings in exactly two candidates. At least the decision process won't take long. MGR ushers me into his office to meet the first candidate. Seeing him, my first reaction is to leave the room. But I remind myself there are only two candidates, and the second candidate might be even worse. To best explain my reaction (which only worsened as the interview progressed) let me just say I'll name the first candidate, "Bozo the Clown". Enter the second candidate.

She was as normal looking and sounding as Bozo was odd. Instead of wearing a cowboy outfit (Bozo really did that - hat an all) she was dressed in a nice dress. She spoke with the right amount of humility and confidence that one expects from entry level applicants. She had manners. Most importantly, she asked the kind of questions that told me she understood her classroom training only took her so far and that she wanted to learn real world application. To me, the decision was clear: do you want intelligence, manners and adaptabilty; or loud, obnoxious and thick as a brick? The candidates were excused while MGR and I discussed our options. I expected a short meeting. I was wrong.

MGR: So, what do you think?

ME: It's obvious. She's the better candidate.

MGR: Really? You think so?

ME: Yeeeaaahhh. You don't?

MGR: (shaking head) I don't know. I see some problems.

ME: What problems? We're hiring entry level. But if you don't think she can cut it, then call in some more candidates?

MGR: What about Bozo? (my name for the clown, not MGR's)

ME: You can't be serious.

MGR: He's not perfect, but I think he would fit better than DD (initials)

ME: No way! Apart from the fact he doesn't know anything, he's loud and obnoxious. The staff will never tolerate someone like that. They like quiet. Well, mostly.

MGR: But he has more in common with the staff than DD.

The lights were beginning to come on at last. At the time, our department staff consisted of 75%white males and 25% white females. DD was not white. To confirm what I was beginning to suspect, I continued my line of arguing. DD was the better candidate, and that should dictate our decision. Skill and experience placed them equal. So it came down to who would work best with the existing staff. I believed that was DD.

MGR: But aren't you concerned about her being -

ME: Being what?

MGR: You know. We don't have any one staff right now.

I felt sick. I had known this man for four years. He had been instrumental in my rise through the ranks. He shared the same faith as me. Always he had demonstrated nothing but intelligence and understanding. But I had no doubt in my heart as to what he was telling me now. His eyes told me he knew I understood his message at last.

MGR: So, what do we tell LS? (the owner)

ME: Well, you tell her whatever you want. I'm going to tell her I recommend DD. Furthermore, I will tell her that even if she doesn't hire DD she should not hire Bozo. And if you recommend Bozo, I will report descrimination.

MGR: Fine! That's what we'll do then.

He was not my friend after that. In fact, he tried to get me fired, but it backfired (no pun intended) and he lost his job instead. I think he tried to make some amends for what he tried to do to me because when the new Manager arrived he showed me my file. It was empty.

So, when I was nearing forty, did I really believe in equality? Maybe. I don't know. I hope so. I do know I made the right decision at least once. But my garnering the courage to finally stand up for what I believe in hardly makes up for TA, ML and who knows how many others I let down because I was too afraid to stand up for what I believe?

My point in relating this is not to make you think better or worse of me. The point has to do with how any of us react when something we believe is wrong happens in front of our face. My inspiration was a post made on a good friend's blog. Apparently some racist fool wrote a book in which she emphasizes Barach Obama's middle name (Hussein), claiming that having been named after such a terrible person means something. My friend wrote that even her five-year-old daughter understood that is ridiculous. Using that logic, we should arrest everyone named John (because John Wilkes Booth committed murder), Adolph and probably every other name under the sun.

People who spew this hateful crap gain power when people like me keep their mouths shut. I don't believe we need to commit acts of violence, or even become violent in our speech. We simply need to let people know we disagree and find the hateful logic silly at best. My friend has this kind of courage, which is one reason among many I am proud to count myself among her friends. And should she find herself in need of a voice, I will not keep silent. I try not to for strangers, to. Whatever we believe, we just need to keep our manners and our cool. But we must be heard.

End of my attempt to say something important. I wish I could have said it better (and shorter).

Tomorrow is Stephen and Dad Day. I should be able to draw upon at least one amusing story.

Take care.