A powerful post by Tim Fall. I appreciate how his high school story ties in with pursuit of God’s justice and with Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Much food for thought!
[From the archives. This first appeared as a guest post on Natasha Robinson’s blog.]
“I hear you don’t like Mexicans.” He looked Hispanic and he looked angry.
“What?” I stood at my high school locker late that afternoon, the halls empty but for me and my accuser.
“I heard you said you don’t like Mexicans.”
He leaned in, taller, stronger, threatening. It didn’t take much to be taller and stronger than me. I was a shrimpy freshman. It didn’t take much to threaten me either. I was also a wimpy freshman.
“I didn’t say that.” All I wanted was to convince this guy not to hit me. It looked like he was going to anyway. “If I said something wrong, I’m sorry.”
He still looked ready to punch me. I didn’t like getting punched. It invariably hurt and I invariably cried. Crying in high school in the 70s was not a way to…
View original post 793 more words