Over the last few days, we have seen a wave of racial controversy engulf our collective mindsets. Whether it was over the unfortunate, perhaps out of context statements of Geraldine Ferraro or the unfortunate, perhaps taken out of context statements of Rev. Dr. Jeremiah Wright, Race in America dominates cable talk shows and water cooler conversation unseen since the days of the OJ Simpson trial. While race for many Americans is something we converse about silently among trusted people in our lives, controversies like these seem to heighten our racial consciousness as well as the clearly contrast the racial dividing lines that still partition our society. These stories drive ratings up for news outlets, give paid pundits a few minutes of added fame, and highlight the ugliness that is race in America.

These controversies give us an opportunity to speak freely/vent our respective frustrations, yet distract us from greater issues like the War in Iraq, Healthcare, the Economy, Illegal Immigration, Education, etc. With that being said, let me express my opinion on the Jeremiah Wright fiasco.

I believe that Rev. Wright is NOT the racist, anti American, hate mongering person some in the media and of course on Townhall have chosen to portray. Using a 3 minute graining video collage of statements from as far back as 7 years ago isn’t exactly fair in my opinion. Did Rev. Wright offend some people with his statements? Yes. Were some of his statements untrue? Yes. Were some of his statements factually correct, yet not poltically correct to some people? Yes. Are his opinions worse than those of Pat Robertson, John Hagee, and Rob “I hate Islam” Parsley? Hell to the No. Should we move on? Indeed.

With that being said, I must admit that Barack Obama handled himself wonderfully over the past few days and gave today a speech that was one of the most profound this country has seen over the past few decades. It also got me thinking about my own family and the role race plays in my life.

From those who actually know me (no one on this website), I believe that race still afflicts this country in numerous ways and is sometimes brushed aside in our minds in order just to function daily. I also believe that race is something no one can just ignore nor simplify in the effort to “move on”. We must acknowledge the distinct color line in America as well as acknowledge our own personal racial history. Barack Obama went first . I‘ll go second.

 The above picture is not a random picture of two men. These two men have had a profound impact on numerous lives, as well as my own. These two men worked hard every day of their lives. These two men did for others always, constantly negating their own self interests in favor of the family interest. These two men were loved by everyone, hated by no one. Who are these two men? They are my grandfathers.

This picture was taken over 36 years ago at the wedding of my parents. With a little Photoshop and auto enhance, it looks like it could have occurred just 6 years ago (minus the fashion).

My paternal grandfather to the left was the son of a sharecropper, the grandson of former slaves. He was a World War II veteran who received both a undergraduate and masters degree from Howard University on the strength of the GI Bill. He worked at the Department of Labor as a simple file clerk because at that time the Federal Government saw color over education credentials. With desegregation, he eventually moved up and over to a high ranking job at the US Commerce Department which he held for almost 40 years. He raised 4 wonderful children and was married almost 45 years when he died almost 8 years from Alzheimer’s Disease. I could go on and on about my grandpa, but it would take days.

My maternal grandfather to the right was a 3^rd generation American of Irish and German heritage. Raised in the town of Quincy, Illinois, he excelled at baseball, basketball, football, and boxing. He briefly attended Illinois State University before dropping out from loneliness and a sense of not “fitting in”. He eventually moved to Washington, DC with his parents where he happened to fall in love with a young, vivacious girl. The problem was that girl was African American. As he told his parents of his new found love, he was repeatedly chastised and warned over such a union. Being the rebel that he was, he married that young girl in the lving room of his new in-laws. At this time, no church in the Nation’s Capitol (black or white) would allow such a union to take place in their respective houses of worship. . Faced with insurmountable pressures from an less than tolerant 1950s America, my grandparents would encounter racism from both black and white just for showing any mild form of PDA. Shall I even mention the shock and horror when 2 children were produced from this “unnatural” union? These two children would be raised in a loving home, yet were faced with constant attack from the outside world. They understood that the world didn’t care who their dad was. They were black/negro by virtue of their skin complexion: nothing more, nothing less. Yet, the family stuck by one another until my grandfather died at the age of 55 from years of constant smoking (to cope with the stress). Everyone say that I am very much like him. For me, that is one of the greatest compliments anyone can bestow up myself.

Indeed, true love conquers even the most insidious form of hate.