Many years ago, almost 60, my Da had an encounter with a Black man. (For the uninformed non-Irish out there, “Da” was the usual way we Irish-American kids referred to our dads or fathers.)
Da had been heading home to the South Bronx from his night job in Jersey City late one night. He was walking through some NYC subway station when he happened to notice a hard-working guy, a colored man–in the accepted usage of the time–who was scrubbing the dingy platform. He caught Da’s casual glance and reacted both unpleasantly and argumentively for some reason.
“Yeah, look all … Read the rest





There are more than a few indicators …
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