The next day, Friday, after my Aqua horror, I went to a nice place called Americano to enjoy the Friday sun and a glass of wine in a place crowded with nice-looking women, and where I always see people I know. In this case, the person was Kevin Shannon.
Kevin's a friendly bespectacled real estate lawyer of Irish decent who lives and practices in San Francisco. Over the years, we've always had great -- and some times heated -- conversations about politics, race, and society.
See, I've noticed from talking with people I know that I'm one of the few African Americans who openly talks about a race-based problem with anyone who may be the cause of it, or with someone white. Most blacks I have talked with and observed don't do this. It's a total shame, but a pattern. I contend that you can't know if someone's your true friend if you can't be yourself around them. Plus, they can't say they really know you.
Anyway, I told Kevin about the Aqua horror, as I will call it, and he said that though I may have been correct, sometimes it's not necessary to counsel the person. He used the example of our mutual friend, Bill Patton, who passed away two years ago. Bill was a very energetic African American man who had a smile and a kind word for everyone. He always went to the bars in SF, but only drank water.
With all of the people Bill knew, you'd think that there would be thousands of people at his funeral. There were about 50. I was really hurt by that. It opened my eyes.
Kevin said that Bill had a great way of dealing with ass holes and apparently racist people. He used a humble approach. For example, some woman -- white -- bumped into him and spilled her drink and his too. But instead of appologizing, she blamed him and started yelling. He said "I'm just a poor black man from the South" and that disarmed her.
At one point a long time ago, I was a little like that, but it was before my heart problem in 1991, where I thought I had a heart attack. After medication, and seeing a therapist on the advice of the doctors, the psychologist realized that many of the encounters I had in society bothered me, and yet I could have changed things by mentioning my hurt or desire on the spot.
That observation opeened me up. It caused me to write, and shortly after that became a columnist for The Motclarion, and generally far more expressive. Plus, I felt better.
Now, Bill passed of a heart attack at 70 years old. I think Kevin's right about Bill's approach and my need to "pull back" a little bit. But the other side of the coin is that loosing two parents and buring them, as I did last year, has an impact on how you view life. I don't want to waste my time on earth not expressing what I see, for better or worse.
As much as I love Bill Patton, I have to be myself. I have a fear of being subordinated by the society around me. I'll never let that happen. Perhaps that's the wrong way to look at things. But Kevin's point is that I should take a look at a situation before I point an accusatory finger.
I try to. But in the retrospect of the Aqua Horror, I really did do that.
Bill had a formula that did work for him. But what got me was that only 50 people came to his funeral. That was insulting, and when I think about what Kevin said, I keep coming back to the thought that maybe his heart couldn't take all of the pounding of society with no real outlet, and so after a time it just gave up. That almost happened to me and I'm fearful of another episode.
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