August 21, 2011

• MY PREQUEL TO “THE HELP”

   
  This blog was supposed to be “LEAP, AND THE NET WILL APPEAR: PART TWO”.

  But it’s long past midnight and I just finished the final page of the best selling book, and now a hit movie, “The Help”, a story written by a young white woman in Mississippi, dealing with the abuse endured by black maids at the hands of their white employers during the 1960′s.

  Tears surfaced in my eyes as I recalled old scenarios from my early life in segregated depression-ridden Kentucky.

  So this will be a catharsis of sorts, to express and put to rest any lingering residue of past life experience.

  My first nursemaid, Fanny Braxton, found nurturing in her heart for a little white baby girl, in addition to her own four daughters. 

  Mother’s helper, Alease, threw a twelfth birthday party for me while my parents were traveling; having nothing of my own for such a gala occasion, I wore one of her dresses. Mother never knew.

  Mother and her circle of Jewish housewives never sat down to a cup of coffee with the women who cared for their children. By this time I was aware that Jews were members of an oppressed tribe themselves. Having historically been victimized, what could justify their superior behavior?

  Long after I moved to New York, in the 1940’s, Daddy, who was a gentle soft-spoken man, would walk out of a restaurant if a “colored” person walked in.
  I was horrified!

  Jews were still banned from his local country club, though his cronies played poker with him at the Elk’s club.

  Go figure.

  IN THE EARLY SIXTIES I HAD TO EXAMINE MY OWN PERSONAL PREDJUDICES.

   Being an avid jazz collector, I would wander into Sam Goody (the leading purveyor of records at that time) after work. There was this black salesperson who guided me to the best of the best – Ella Fitzgerald, Stan Getz, Duke Ellington, etc. He was knowledgeable, young, attractive and a part-time disc jockey – eventually suggesting that I might enjoy attending some live clubs with him. I was divorced and clearly interested, though not courageous enough to break the taboos of the day.  

  A generation later, my daughter went overboard to shock her Jewish attorney father by only seeing men of color, jocks she would meet at the gym or karate class, who would accept her favors without once bringing a rose or bottle of wine. I would have been thrilled if her choice were green-skinned as long as he was good to her.

  SO THE RACIAL PENDULUM IN OUR FAMILY HAS SWUNG TO BOTH EXTREMES AND IS FINALLY REACHING A CRITICAL MASS TOWARD BALANCE WORLDWIDE. MULTI – COLOR CULTURE IS NOT ONLY ACCEPTED, IT ENRICHES US ALL.

  
  ANYONE FOR VANILLA?
  

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  • 10:55 pm
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