'Our Family...Wasn't Like That, So We Drove On'
Ms.
Carol
Guler,
Mandan,
North Dakota
Way back in 1961 or 1962, when I was 9 or 10 years old, my family (my mother, father, and two younger brothers) took a vacation out east to learn some history where it happened. We visited Monticello, Civil War sites, old plantations, and the like. As you can imagine, traveling with three young children necessitated frequent stops. At this memorable stop, we were hungry, thirsty, and needed a bathroom. I remember the restaurant was a little one, with a white frame and green trim. I remember a stern-looking waitress behind a counter. What I most clearly remember was a sign posted behind the counter that read, "We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone." My dad stopped us before we had a chance to sit down and told us we were leaving. We didn't know why, and I'm sure we whined a bit.
Dad pointed at the sign: I thought we'd done something wrong, and the people in the restaurant stared at us. When we were outside again, my dad explained that those signs were used to keep black people from eating in the same place as white people and that this was wrong. That if we ate there, it would be just like saying we agreed with that idea. Our family, dad said, wasn't like that. So we drove on, three wide-eyed little kids and two adults who lived their convictions.
My dad refused to join the local Elks Club, as they assured him they wouldn't admit anyone who wasn't white. My parents' beliefs also supported a friendship with a Native American family, whose youngest daughter was one of my frequent playmates until she moved away. I hadn't even noticed she was different from me, except maybe a little tanner.
