We are campaigning in small town America
When the college senior quickly steps behind me
As though my well-worn 66 year old body could
Somehow protect him from the prejudice we now face
As racial and religious slurs coupled with coarse laughter
Fill the air around us.
For him it is new, shocking…
He has lived his life in the diversity and openness
Of a university town.
For me it is old, primal
A sudden flashback to my own childhood
And college days.
I knew it was here
Although I had believed and
Hoped
It had somehow faded
Or at least softened.
I fight the anger rising in my gut,
Bite my tongue and take a deep breath.
We are campaigning in small town America.
This is not the time or place for the dialog
I would prefer to have just now.
Speaking softly and passionately
I try to change the conversation
Bring it back to our candidate
And the issues facing our state.
The good old boy nods, smiles
And wanders away,
Seemingly satisfied
But the college student
Softly clutching my elbow
Is forever changed.
I’m glad you were here;
I didn’t know what to say
He almost whispers.
You’ll learn, I reply.
I’m sorry you have to…….
Scallop Songs 