I want to share a story about something I saw when I was 6 years old.
When I was a little boy my Grandmother owned her own business. She had a printing shop that employed about 8 people regularly and sometimes up to 20 at a time when large orders needed to go out fast. My Grandfather really hated the business but it did well and by the time I came along he'd gotten comfortable with it. She hoped to pass it down through the family for generations to come but sadly that wouldn't happen thanks to a con artist. But that's another story.
I grew up in a cracker box just behind the shop. We were hidden from the rural highway by the shop and the shop was out in the middle of nowhere because my Grandfather built it on farm land. I spent a lot of time running around the shop growing up. Since I'd always go over there when I was bored or when I wanted to get out of the heat. It was a nice stop off between my house and the fish pond where I could always get some free candy or something to drink.
My Grandmother hired a black man around the time I was 5 years old. I can't remember his name. He was always really nice to me and a cool guy all around. I took a liking to him fast and he'd always give me piece of candy and stop whatever he was doing to chat with me whenever I bugged him. He was always happy I never saw him get mad or frustrated. The kind of person that could always brighten up your day.
Any time the shop needed repairs like a new roof, floor or general upkeep work my Grandfather would do it himself. He could do anything and would do it right. He always had an old friend helping him. A very large man that went by the name of "Foot". They called him Foot because he wore massive boots. His shoe size must have been in the neighborhood of 30. I don't know if it's because I was little back then but I'm sure he's still the largest man I've ever seen. He looked like the white version of John Coffey from the move "The Green Mile".
Foot was racist. Really racist. Old school call you n word to your face racist. My Grandfather wasn't but he never said anything to Foot about this. Probably because he didn't want to get crushed like a bug. Other than being a racist Foot was a decent person. Which might sound odd to hear but if you grew up in the rural south you'll know what I'm getting at.
Foot would call the black man that worked for my Grandmother "boy" and was always making n word okes when he knew he was in ear shot. The black man would just smile and laugh it off. He might have been able to take Foot. He was pretty large himself. When Foot would leave my Grandmother would always apologize to him if she heard what was said. My Grandfather would from time to time make a point to tell the man that he wasn't that way and he didn't raise his children to be that way. But he was also loyal to Foot because Foot saved his life a long time ago when they were young. So he mostly just kept quiet whenever Foot would go off on his tangents.
One day in the dogs days of summer my Grandfather and Foot were working on the shop. I can't remember what they were doing now exactly. I think they might have been replacing the eaves. I just remember that my Grandfather was working halfway up a ladder with a hammer and Foot was on the ground passing him up pieces of lumber. It was really hot that day. Probably around 100F. At the time it was the hottest weather I'd ever been in.
I was standing there watching the two men work when Foot got really quiet. He locked eyes with me and he looked terrified. He clutched his chest and fell to the ground right in front of me. My Grandfather came down the ladder and tried to help him as best he could. He figured out pretty quickly that Foot was having a heart attack. He ran inside to the front office to call 911 and left me standing there outside with Foot.
A small crowd started to gather outside by the back door. You know the bystander effect people talk about? That's basically what was happening. No one came to render aide because they either didn't know how or were frozen in place. Except one man. The black man. He came rushing through the small crowd, went straight to Foot and started giving him CPR and rescue breaths.
Foot didn't make it. He died right there. It took about 10 minutes for the ambulance to show up and for the medics to declare that he was gone. That black man did CPR until they showed up. He cried because he couldn't save Foot.
From time to time I think about that day. The irony of it. That the last thing Foot probably saw was a black man he insulted on a weekly basis trying to save his life.
When I was a little boy my Grandmother owned her own business. She had a printing shop that employed about 8 people regularly and sometimes up to 20 at a time when large orders needed to go out fast. My Grandfather really hated the business but it did well and by the time I came along he'd gotten comfortable with it. She hoped to pass it down through the family for generations to come but sadly that wouldn't happen thanks to a con artist. But that's another story.
I grew up in a cracker box just behind the shop. We were hidden from the rural highway by the shop and the shop was out in the middle of nowhere because my Grandfather built it on farm land. I spent a lot of time running around the shop growing up. Since I'd always go over there when I was bored or when I wanted to get out of the heat. It was a nice stop off between my house and the fish pond where I could always get some free candy or something to drink.
My Grandmother hired a black man around the time I was 5 years old. I can't remember his name. He was always really nice to me and a cool guy all around. I took a liking to him fast and he'd always give me piece of candy and stop whatever he was doing to chat with me whenever I bugged him. He was always happy I never saw him get mad or frustrated. The kind of person that could always brighten up your day.
Any time the shop needed repairs like a new roof, floor or general upkeep work my Grandfather would do it himself. He could do anything and would do it right. He always had an old friend helping him. A very large man that went by the name of "Foot". They called him Foot because he wore massive boots. His shoe size must have been in the neighborhood of 30. I don't know if it's because I was little back then but I'm sure he's still the largest man I've ever seen. He looked like the white version of John Coffey from the move "The Green Mile".
Foot was racist. Really racist. Old school call you n word to your face racist. My Grandfather wasn't but he never said anything to Foot about this. Probably because he didn't want to get crushed like a bug. Other than being a racist Foot was a decent person. Which might sound odd to hear but if you grew up in the rural south you'll know what I'm getting at.
Foot would call the black man that worked for my Grandmother "boy" and was always making n word okes when he knew he was in ear shot. The black man would just smile and laugh it off. He might have been able to take Foot. He was pretty large himself. When Foot would leave my Grandmother would always apologize to him if she heard what was said. My Grandfather would from time to time make a point to tell the man that he wasn't that way and he didn't raise his children to be that way. But he was also loyal to Foot because Foot saved his life a long time ago when they were young. So he mostly just kept quiet whenever Foot would go off on his tangents.
One day in the dogs days of summer my Grandfather and Foot were working on the shop. I can't remember what they were doing now exactly. I think they might have been replacing the eaves. I just remember that my Grandfather was working halfway up a ladder with a hammer and Foot was on the ground passing him up pieces of lumber. It was really hot that day. Probably around 100F. At the time it was the hottest weather I'd ever been in.
I was standing there watching the two men work when Foot got really quiet. He locked eyes with me and he looked terrified. He clutched his chest and fell to the ground right in front of me. My Grandfather came down the ladder and tried to help him as best he could. He figured out pretty quickly that Foot was having a heart attack. He ran inside to the front office to call 911 and left me standing there outside with Foot.
A small crowd started to gather outside by the back door. You know the bystander effect people talk about? That's basically what was happening. No one came to render aide because they either didn't know how or were frozen in place. Except one man. The black man. He came rushing through the small crowd, went straight to Foot and started giving him CPR and rescue breaths.
Foot didn't make it. He died right there. It took about 10 minutes for the ambulance to show up and for the medics to declare that he was gone. That black man did CPR until they showed up. He cried because he couldn't save Foot.
From time to time I think about that day. The irony of it. That the last thing Foot probably saw was a black man he insulted on a weekly basis trying to save his life.
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