Growing Up In the Race Divide (part 4)

Probably, you should go back and read part 3 of this series before going on. The two are somewhat related.

As I said last time, the reason my mother gave me for not allowing me to invite my black friend to church was that "it wasn't a good idea." At the time, I couldn't really figure that out. We were told every Sunday in Sunday school that we should invite our friends to church with us and, the very first time I wanted to do that, I was told it wasn't a good idea.

Needless to say, it was a long time before I ever wanted to invite anyone to church with me again. A really long time.

So let's jump ahead to high school. And I'll try to keep only to the relevant data.

My church employed a number of janitors; they were all black. The building superintendent was white, but all the guys that worked for him were black. Also, my mom was the cook at my church, and all of the help they ever hired for her was... I'll say non-white. I'll also say that, as part of the "paid help," my family, as with the building super, was barely passable, and that's just because we were white. The non-white employees didn't actually attend my church, and the janitors (because we still called them janitors, at the time) were specifically forbidden from entering the sanctuary during services. They could only come in to do the clean-up afterward.

I didn't know about all of this until later, but it all has to do with why it wasn't a "good idea" for me to invite my friend.

One morning, I was walking with the guy who was in charge of the bus ministry. He was helping a little, old lady from the "gym side" of the church to the "sanctuary side" of the church. When I say "little, old," I mean it, too. She was at least in her 80s, unable to walk without assistance, and what you would call wizened. Without any of the wisdom that came with it. As we entered the connecting hallway (the church was laid out in a large U), one of the janitors was leaning against the wall near the intersection. He was supposed to be doing this. They were stationed at what were considered the rear doors so they could open them for people (and to keep out "undesirables" (seriously)).

I liked this guy, and I wish I could remember his name. He was taller than me (not surprising), in his early 20s, had a big smile, and laughed easily. By this point, I was already working at my church, so, sometimes, when I was doing work in the gym area and he was around, we would joke and stuff. Plus, he played basketball with my brother who was only in the 10-12 year old range, at the time, and he treated him like a person, not a kid.

So... there he was, leaning against the wall, as the three of us came out of the other hallway. I went to say hi, the bus guy went to say hi, the old lady... She didn't let us say hi, because she -- pardon the language, but there's really no other way to say this with the same meaning -- lost her shit. Right there. She started screaming that there was a "nigger in the church!" She had a cane, and she, this lady who could barely walk, raised it and tried to go after him screaming about the "nigger" the whole time.

I think my brain froze up, because I just stood there not knowing what to do or how to respond. Evidently, the bus guy had dealt with this kind of thing before, because he just guided the old lady around the corner and off down the hallway while looking back over his shoulder and mouthing an apology. In what I'm sure she thought was a whisper, the old lady was saying, "Did you see that? There's a black person in my church!"

And the janitor? He just shrugged and waved it off. He even chuckled about it. But I stood there, mortified. I hadn't done anything, but I went over and apologized. It was the first time I felt, well, shame at being who I was. Because I was white. I felt soiled just from having walked down the hall with the old lady, not to mention that I had helped her off the bus and into the building. I wanted to go wash my hands. But he said it wasn't a big deal and not to worry about it. It wasn't me, and she was old, and it didn't matter.

To some extent, he was right. I mean, it wasn't me and she was old, but I couldn't get behind the part where it didn't matter. I thought it did matter. I mean, we were in church! What kind of person acts like that to begin with, but what kind of person acts like that at church? Which made me wonder what she'd been like when she was younger and that kind of behavior and been acceptable. And not just acceptable but expected. And I got all sick feeling again and ashamed of being white.

And that's when I understood why my mother had told me that it wouldn't be a good idea for me to bring my friend to church. I never came to a conclusion, though, as to whether it wasn't a good idea because she was concerned for my friend or if she was concerned about any potential labels that might have gotten attached to me or our family over it. After all, "nigger lover" was still a pretty common term in those days.

How To Be... a Juggler

When I was in high school, I decided one morning that I should be able to juggle. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing. It wasn't that I wanted to be able to juggle, just that I thought that I ought to be able to juggle. No, I have no idea why I decided that. At any rate, it was a Saturday morning, and I was at work in the gym at church, but it was a pretty slow day or too early or something, because I only had a couple of kids. They were both just skating, so it didn't leave me with a lot to do other than just be there. Maybe I was just bored, but I don't remember that as having anything to do with my idea of "oughtness" about juggling.

A few tennis balls later, and I was learning to juggle. I worked on it for a few hours until I had it down. Or up. Or around. Or whatever.

Once it was late enough that people my age were crawling out of bed, teenagers began to show up, and I had to actually do some other work; however, my best friend showed up, and I demonstrated my new skill. His response was something like, "That's great, but you're doing it wrong." He took the tennis balls from me and showed me the proper way of doing it, which was not around in a circle like they do it in cartoons. My reaction was something along the lines of, "Well, this is how I'm going to do it," because I wasn't going to go back and try to learn some other way of doing it.

Maybe if I'd had access to Arlee Bird, I would have learned to do it right the first time. What? You didn't know Lee could juggle? Well, now you do. And, due to the miracle of the Internet, something I didn't have back when I was in high school, here he is to tell you how to juggle!

Take it away, Lee! Or something like that...

     It takes a lot of balls to be a juggler.  You've got to learn to throw up and then catch what you've thrown up.  Er, this is not coming out right.   Let's just toss out this opening and let me start again.

     Juggling is an art that incorporates the mental disciplines of math, science, and physics and blends them with the physical disciplines of movement and balance.  Juggling is not difficult if you are willing to focus on what you are doing and then practice.  Once it comes to you it's much like riding a bicycle or something of that nature.

      Want to learn to juggle?   Start by learning the basic three ball cascade pattern.  This is a matter of keeping three objects moving in regular alternating arcs for a sustained period of time.  You must learn to maintain a continued one, two, three waltz rhythm with the three arcs.  A juggling count is very helpful in the beginning.

      The first step is to master one object, preferably a ball or a spherical beanbag, tossed from one hand to the other.   Learn this toss from right to left, then left to right, repeatedly without dropping and keeping the same identical arc each time.  Back and forth, back and forth, until you've perfected the feel of the toss and the catch.

     When the first arc is mastered, then start with a ball in each hand.  Focusing on the arcs, toss the first ball from the right hand.  When that first ball reaches the peak of the arc and begins to descend toss up the ball in the left hand in an equal arc, but not on a collision course with the first.  Repeat over and over until the movement comes naturally.

      As you continue the alternating passing of the two objects between your hands, begin to imagine the third object becoming a part of the pattern.  Now instead of the one-two repetition of throws, think of the one-two-three rhythm with the two objects and one imaginary object.   After the tosses, the hand movements, and the rhythm are ingrained in your mind you can add in the third ball.

      The visualization should have helped, but the actual third object might be intimidating and confusing at first.  The main thing is don't give up and keep that waltz rhythm in your mind.  In the basic juggling pattern your hand and arm movements remain the same and the arcs of the objects should also be repetitive.  Juggling is like music.

      I recommend that you practice over a bed so you don't have to chase balls or bend over too much.  You will be picking up dropped objects a lot at first.  Juggling is good exercise, but in the learning process it might be more exercise than you'd want.  Your focus on the juggling pattern will also be better if you aren't chasing objects all over the room. 

      After you've essentially mastered the basic pattern you will be ready to experiment with more arcs, heights, speeds, and other pattern variations.   And don't forget the essential rule when performing your new skill before an audience:  If  you drop something just keep going and act as though it was meant to be.   Learning the skill of recovery is one of the most essential components in a jugglers bag of tricks.

      Now go learn to juggle!  There are many healthy benefits for mind and body.  You might even be able to pick up a few bucks juggling on the street for tips.