June 22, 1941 -- Detroit, Michigan
"You've got to pay more attention," Kinch said suddenly, his voice booming as he slammed his hand down on the table. He startled the blond boy sitting beside him and the irregular stream of tapping coming from his hand abruptly stopped.
He raised his head sheepishly from the book. "Gee, Kinch," he protested, "I'm trying as hard as I can."
Kinch sighed and passed one of his hands over his close-cropped dark curls, trying to calm himself down. "I know you are, Tommy," Kinch assured his friend. He sighed, pointing to another paragraph further down along the page. "Let's try it again from here, okay?"
"Sure, Kinch. Anything that you say," Tommy agreed quickly, bowing his head obediently back over the book, reading the paragraph Kinch had indicated. After he had had a moment to study it, he started tapping out the phrases in uneven Morse code, his tongue dangling out between his teeth.
It wasn't long before Kinch's shoulders started to shake with suppressed laughter. After a moment, he couldn't contain it anymore and a deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Do you know what you just said?" he interrupted, trying to choke back his laughter.
"Well, I'm guessing that it wasn't what I thought I was saying," Tommy replied apologetically, chewing nervously on his lower lip as he waited for Kinch to continue. In a minute, after Kinch had remained silent, he chanced a look at Kinch's face. He evaluated the amused look he found there and cautiously asked, "What exactly did I say?"
"Four scare and seven bears ago, our fathers bought forts of this contents an ewe nation, conceived in liability." Kinch's deep laughter rolled out again. "I'm sorry for laughing, Tommy, but somehow I don't think it's quite what President Lincoln had in mind."
Tommy's face flushed red again with embarrassment, but he joined his friend in his laughter. "Gee, Kinch, you should be the one taking this course. I butcher Lincoln, and anything else, but I've heard you, you make this stuff music."
Kinch's laughter stopped abruptly. He would have loved to have been able to take the course himself, but the college didn't offer any spaces for blacks. Tommy instantly regretted the innocent comment, realising the significance as soon as the words left his mouth. He hadn't meant to remind his friend that he had been excluded just because of the colour of his skin.
"Kinch, I'm real sorry. I... I didn't mean anything by it," Tommy apologised awkwardly. "I mean... What I mean to say is..." But he trailed off again, not really knowing how he could bridge this gap that separated him from one of his best friends. It was a gap that was only growing wider as they grew older.
The kids of the neighbourhood had always played together, since the time they had been small children. They still did now, gathering in spare moments for pickup games of baseball, soccer, football, or hockey. They had never taken any notice of skin colour; they had been completely content to just be kids. It hadn't been until they started school that they had even really realised that they were different.
It was their enforced separation that had hammered it home. Tommy, Billy, and the neighbourhoods other white kids had all gone to one school, just down the street. Kinch and the other black kids had had to be bussed out to another school. It hadn't been choice. It had been enforced by the school board. And while Tommy had had the best education the public school system could provide, Kinch had had to make due with out of date text books and shoddy equipment.
Kinch sighed again, this time more deeply. Unlike his previous simple frustration with Tommy's sloppy Morse, this was a frustration borne from living with a class system based not on ability. It was a system that was based solely on physical features. It was like preferring one child over another just because of the colour of shirt they wore. But instead of just clothing, this was something far deeper. It was rooted in history and the end was nowhere in sight.
'Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation,' President Lincoln had said on that November day back in 1863, 'conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.' And yet, almost eighty years later, the 'new nation' still retained discriminatory traditions that stretched back to an unequal and oppressive social structure that had brought the nation to war with itself.
In spite of all of the advancements that they had made during that time, in many different fields, all that mattered was that one man was still rated better than another based just on the colour of his skin. Kinch wondered if it would ever change. He wondered if he would ever be given the chance to prove that he was every bit as good as Tommy or Billy.
"Don't worry about it, Tommy," he replied, trying to keep his tone light. It almost worked. But behind the words lay a hurt so deep that it couldn't be glossed over by mere words. "You wouldn't want me hovering over your shoulder in class too," he added, laughing again. But unlike the deep, rolling peals of earlier, it was forced and fell dully in the now silent room.
"No," Tommy agreed, his voice matching Kinch's forced light-heartedness. But in his voice too lurked something deeper, something that couldn't just be forced beneath the surface. "I wouldn't want you to feel bad when I did better than you," he joked, trying to ease the tension in the only way he could think of.
Kinch laughed one more time, the laughter real again. There was still that sinister hint of something else, but it was retreating back into the distance again, where they could all usually get it to stay. It was hidden somewhere where they could forget that it mattered and just continue to be friends, as they always had been.
"Well, if you want to do that, you're going to need a little more practice. Because I don't think that the founding fathers bought forts to form a nation of sheep," Kinch told Tommy.
"Well, maybe I could use a little more practice," Tommy admitted, laughing heartily along with Kinch. "But, after all, I'm a work in progress!" He moved his hands up toward his face. But his hands clipped the edge of the book, sending it tumbling to the floor, almost as if to prove his point.
The two looked at the book for a moment, and then back up at one another again. "You've got that right," Kinch commented before the two dissolved into uncontrollable laughter.
And the moment passed. The rift between them, if not closed for good, was temporarily bridged once again. And those differences that lay on the surface was once again hidden by what was more important, what lay underneath.
"You've got to pay more attention," Kinch said suddenly, his voice booming as he slammed his hand down on the table. He startled the blond boy sitting beside him and the irregular stream of tapping coming from his hand abruptly stopped.
He raised his head sheepishly from the book. "Gee, Kinch," he protested, "I'm trying as hard as I can."
Kinch sighed and passed one of his hands over his close-cropped dark curls, trying to calm himself down. "I know you are, Tommy," Kinch assured his friend. He sighed, pointing to another paragraph further down along the page. "Let's try it again from here, okay?"
"Sure, Kinch. Anything that you say," Tommy agreed quickly, bowing his head obediently back over the book, reading the paragraph Kinch had indicated. After he had had a moment to study it, he started tapping out the phrases in uneven Morse code, his tongue dangling out between his teeth.
It wasn't long before Kinch's shoulders started to shake with suppressed laughter. After a moment, he couldn't contain it anymore and a deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Do you know what you just said?" he interrupted, trying to choke back his laughter.
"Well, I'm guessing that it wasn't what I thought I was saying," Tommy replied apologetically, chewing nervously on his lower lip as he waited for Kinch to continue. In a minute, after Kinch had remained silent, he chanced a look at Kinch's face. He evaluated the amused look he found there and cautiously asked, "What exactly did I say?"
"Four scare and seven bears ago, our fathers bought forts of this contents an ewe nation, conceived in liability." Kinch's deep laughter rolled out again. "I'm sorry for laughing, Tommy, but somehow I don't think it's quite what President Lincoln had in mind."
Tommy's face flushed red again with embarrassment, but he joined his friend in his laughter. "Gee, Kinch, you should be the one taking this course. I butcher Lincoln, and anything else, but I've heard you, you make this stuff music."
Kinch's laughter stopped abruptly. He would have loved to have been able to take the course himself, but the college didn't offer any spaces for blacks. Tommy instantly regretted the innocent comment, realising the significance as soon as the words left his mouth. He hadn't meant to remind his friend that he had been excluded just because of the colour of his skin.
"Kinch, I'm real sorry. I... I didn't mean anything by it," Tommy apologised awkwardly. "I mean... What I mean to say is..." But he trailed off again, not really knowing how he could bridge this gap that separated him from one of his best friends. It was a gap that was only growing wider as they grew older.
The kids of the neighbourhood had always played together, since the time they had been small children. They still did now, gathering in spare moments for pickup games of baseball, soccer, football, or hockey. They had never taken any notice of skin colour; they had been completely content to just be kids. It hadn't been until they started school that they had even really realised that they were different.
It was their enforced separation that had hammered it home. Tommy, Billy, and the neighbourhoods other white kids had all gone to one school, just down the street. Kinch and the other black kids had had to be bussed out to another school. It hadn't been choice. It had been enforced by the school board. And while Tommy had had the best education the public school system could provide, Kinch had had to make due with out of date text books and shoddy equipment.
Kinch sighed again, this time more deeply. Unlike his previous simple frustration with Tommy's sloppy Morse, this was a frustration borne from living with a class system based not on ability. It was a system that was based solely on physical features. It was like preferring one child over another just because of the colour of shirt they wore. But instead of just clothing, this was something far deeper. It was rooted in history and the end was nowhere in sight.
'Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation,' President Lincoln had said on that November day back in 1863, 'conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.' And yet, almost eighty years later, the 'new nation' still retained discriminatory traditions that stretched back to an unequal and oppressive social structure that had brought the nation to war with itself.
In spite of all of the advancements that they had made during that time, in many different fields, all that mattered was that one man was still rated better than another based just on the colour of his skin. Kinch wondered if it would ever change. He wondered if he would ever be given the chance to prove that he was every bit as good as Tommy or Billy.
"Don't worry about it, Tommy," he replied, trying to keep his tone light. It almost worked. But behind the words lay a hurt so deep that it couldn't be glossed over by mere words. "You wouldn't want me hovering over your shoulder in class too," he added, laughing again. But unlike the deep, rolling peals of earlier, it was forced and fell dully in the now silent room.
"No," Tommy agreed, his voice matching Kinch's forced light-heartedness. But in his voice too lurked something deeper, something that couldn't just be forced beneath the surface. "I wouldn't want you to feel bad when I did better than you," he joked, trying to ease the tension in the only way he could think of.
Kinch laughed one more time, the laughter real again. There was still that sinister hint of something else, but it was retreating back into the distance again, where they could all usually get it to stay. It was hidden somewhere where they could forget that it mattered and just continue to be friends, as they always had been.
"Well, if you want to do that, you're going to need a little more practice. Because I don't think that the founding fathers bought forts to form a nation of sheep," Kinch told Tommy.
"Well, maybe I could use a little more practice," Tommy admitted, laughing heartily along with Kinch. "But, after all, I'm a work in progress!" He moved his hands up toward his face. But his hands clipped the edge of the book, sending it tumbling to the floor, almost as if to prove his point.
The two looked at the book for a moment, and then back up at one another again. "You've got that right," Kinch commented before the two dissolved into uncontrollable laughter.
And the moment passed. The rift between them, if not closed for good, was temporarily bridged once again. And those differences that lay on the surface was once again hidden by what was more important, what lay underneath.