(C) Daily Kos This story was originally published by Daily Kos and is unaltered. . . . . . . . . . . Musing of an Old White Guy about Ralph Yarl [1] ['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.', 'Backgroundurl Avatar_Large', 'Nickname', 'Joined', 'Created_At', 'Story Count', 'N_Stories', 'Comment Count', 'N_Comments', 'Popular Tags'] Date: 2023-04-19 Ralph Yarl I look at this picture and see myself. How is this possible? I am a 66 year old white guy living in Upper Michigan where there are few black people. So, what makes me see myself in this young black teenager? To be fair, I don’t just see myself in his image, the descriptions I have read of the young man cement the impression in my mind. Well to start with, I played multiple instruments in High School, but largely played the bass clarinet. This picture creates an instant feeling of kinsmanship. The Japanese refer to the bass clarinet as “The Heart of the Concert Band.” It has a deep and wonderful tone that those of us who play it usually fall in love with. I spent a good portion of my professional talent over the years mentoring kids like him. I was a whiz at math and science; one of my nicknames was “Mr. Science.” But I loved music, and my degree is in Music education, which shocked my high school classmates. I was also a very quiet and gentle kid. When I look at this picture, my impression of the face is that of a quiet and gentle soul. For two years, until we moved away from that house, when my father was transferred to another state, my best and dearest friend looked a lot like Ralph. We were an inseparable and to most people an odd-looking pair. Curtis had black kinky hair, brown eyes, brown skin and a broad nose. I had pale skin, blue eyes a skinny nose and hair so blond it was nearly white. I spent a lot more time looking at him than in a mirror. I got very comfortable with that face and grew to see myself reflected in my companion’s face. The pure joy when we got to spend time together was expressed in his smiles. Years later, in another state, one dark night, when I was 16, I was biking home from St. Lukes Lutheran Church in the neighboring town, and, skipping over the details of the accident itself, rendered my bicycle unrideable, and myself bloody. I was panicked and terrified. My mouth was torn at the corner and about an extra half inch wide. I was still several miles from home with a badly injured knee and could barely walk. I rang a doorbell for help. After coming to the door, the occupant closed and locked the door, disappeared inside and a few seconds later all the light went out. 4 or five houses later someone actually talked to me, got my phone number and called my home. I was not allowed inside but was at least rescued 15 minutes later by my mother. Other than a slight scar at the left corner of my mouth, I have healed. When I read the account of Ralph’s struggle for help, I flash back to that horrible night 50 years ago and then realize how much worse Ralph’s situation was than my own. He was not suffering from just an accident, but from intentional violence perpetrated against him. I pray that he can heal as well as I did. All of this flashes instantly through my mind at a gut feeling level without the need for words and I cry. I feel a deep need to reach out and comfort Ralph but realize that I am complete stranger whose presence or touch can’t possibly bring him any comfort and feel powerless. I was raised to believe that all people have inherent worth and dignity. I have always been outraged by mindless violence and killings by the police and others, from Tamir Rice to George Floyd and countless others whose names I will never know. I cry inside each time news of one of these incidents reaches me. But this time I am crying real tears. Either the combined weight of all these incidents has finally broken something inside me, or I just see too much of myself in Ralph. Maybe both. Racial prejudice is mostly just fear, ignorance and greed. If we all look profoundly inside, we all know this. If as a race, and I mean the human race, we can’t get past this blockade to our well-being, our future is dim. I deeply hope we can breach this barrier. Breaching it in my lifetime would be even better. Are we up to the challenge? Ralph, Please know that there is an old white guy living in Upper Michigan who has never met you, but who loves you, nonetheless. God bless you. [END] --- [1] Url: https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2023/4/19/2164825/-Musing-of-an-Old-White-Guy-about-Ralph-Yarl Published and (C) by Daily Kos Content appears here under this condition or license: Site content may be used for any purpose without permission unless otherwise specified. via Magical.Fish Gopher News Feeds: gopher://magical.fish/1/feeds/news/dailykos/