Gleaning Facebook: Naked Man in the Road

 This story brings tears to my eyes.

Lord, grant me the wisdom and confidence and love to meet others where they are and to help bring peace.

From the Facebook of Timothy Huffman...

It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m driving on Thurman Ave, on my way home from FedEx making copies. As I drive north, the traffic is sorta strange. Cars pulled off at weird angles or creeping very slowly. As I drive on, I see why.

There is a man standing naked in the middle of the street.

He is tall, maybe 6’4”, though he is cringing in a way that makes it hard to see what his full height is. And he isn’t completely naked. A few shirts and perhaps a jacket lay in a crumpled heap about 50 feet away. His shoes are still on, and his pants and boxers are around his ankles.

As I sit in my car at the stop sign, my brain struggles to figure out what is happening. What am I supposed to do? The man seems to be yelling, though not to anyone in particular. A car drives past him slowly, driver gawking. That doesn’t seem like what I’m supposed to do. Thankfully, my home is a left turn, so I don’t have to drive past him. I look left. I could just go home. I consider it, given that I have no idea what I would do if I tried to help.

I drive forward and park at the curb, about 40 feet away from him.

As I watch, I consider calling 911. As I have that thought, I notice a man walking a massive dog with a sweet aviator hat (the man, not the dog) on the phone about 75 feet away from the naked man. He must be calling 911.

I get out of the car. It’s cold out, though not as cold as yesterday. *Not the worst day of winter to be in the street naked,* I think. The man turns to look at me, eyes wild, and says some things I can’t understand. I wonder if I should be afraid. *Nah, I can tell he isn’t armed,* I think to myself sardonically. Also, I don’t think he can charge me with his pants around his ankles. I think I’m safe. Time for words.

“Hello, sir? Can I help you with anything?” I feel stupid saying it, but nothing better comes to mind, so I go with it.

“I’m looking for GOD and the MAN and…” I don’t understand anything else. Maybe he is muttering nonsense. Maybe he isn’t talking loud enough for the 30 feet between us. Now I have even less idea what to say. He keeps talking, sometimes at me, sometimes not. I stand there, car running, door open, just looking. For some strange reason, I’m thrown off by the hair on his butt. He is pretty hairless on the rest of his body, but his butt has curly little hairs.

“SO?!?” he yells at me. I realize I’m staring.

Now the naked man notices the caller with the dog, and starts moving sidelong away from him, past me. I have failed to engage him. He continues to talk aloud. Maybe I hear him say something about “trying to kill me.” He kicks off his shoes and pants and continues down the street in his socks, which are quickly blackened by the icy sludge melting in the street. In his hands I see a clutched lighter. The clearest thing I have thought since this began: *A lighter and a pair of socks.*

I stand next to my car. I consider walking after the naked man, but since he seems to be moving away from us intentionally, I consider that a bad idea. Maybe I should go home. A woman drives past me in her car, pulling over slightly with her window down.

“He is not ok,” she says to me in an intense voice.

“I know, we’ve called 911.”

*At least I hope we have. He could hurt himself.* The dog walker comes up to me. Let’s make sure I just told that woman the truth.

“You call?” I ask him.

“911,” he responds.

“Well, at least we know he isn’t armed,” I say, making my dry joke aloud.

“I don’t think that will make much difference,” the man responds.

I look at his face. I don’t know what he means. Does he mean, ‘He’s crazy, he could hurt someone even if he doesn’t have a weapon.’ He could also mean—my blood runs cold as I think of it—‘It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t have a weapon, he’s black, the cops might kill him anyway.’

Fuck.

Suddenly my mind is teeming. Hands up, don’t shoot. Michael Brown’s body on the concrete. Kelly Thomas, a mentally ill homeless man, beat to death by the police officers. This man is in danger.

I turn back to see where the naked man has gone. He’s made it about a block. I can’t see him, but I can see the traffic behaving oddly, so I can guess his whereabouts. I consider running after him. *Bad idea. He’ll run.* I get back in my car. *How do I keep the police from killing a raving naked black man?* I have no idea. Calm him down, maybe?

I flip my car around. Half a block away, I’m stuck in a line of traffic. Two young walkers point and laugh. As my car idles forward, the two cars in front of me moving very slowly, I struggle with what I’m going to do.

*I’m a communicator. I can talk this guy down.*

*But he’s talking crazy. How do I talk to someone who is talking crazy?*

And then I remember an experience from years ago, when a friend of mine had a stress induced seizure-related breakdown in class. She was talking incoherently, quickly, over and over. When people had tried to talk to her, she wouldn’t respond. So I had awkwardly sat with her as she talked, just listening. After about three minutes, I noticed that she had more or less started back over again on a previous topic, so as she muttered something, I muttered what she had said last time. I had done my best to keep my mutterings the same stream of consciousness from the cycle before. We went back and forth in this way for some time, mutually if only with vague coherence, articulating her thoughts and worries. Eventually, I asked her if she knew that she was in class. She had said yes. I asked her if she knew if she was having a break down. She had said yes. At that point, we talked freely about who we should call in her family and what we should do.

The experience left a profound effect on me, namely, an abiding belief that “crazy” is a matter of context, and that if you listen and participate in people’s linguistic worlds, you can have more conversations than you think you can have.

Armed with this conviction, though still an empty one, I caught up with the naked man and parked in front of a fire hydrant. The experience with the girl in school had been with a friend, this man was a stranger. How was I supposed to “meet him where he was at?” What did I know about him? Nothing. But this is St Louis. Black men have been killed in my neighborhood for not much more than this. And I don’t have a good feeling about how he is going to respond to the police.

But I know nothing. Well, almost nothing. He had mentioned God…

I got out of the car. I don’t feel much like a hero; I feel like I’m chasing this man down. He doesn’t want to talk to me. As I walk forward, he points at me and crouches with his other hand over his mouth. His white socks are thoroughly sodden at this point.

“Your FACE!” He points to where he saw me last. “You are trying to KILL ME!” he yells. “You’re coming AFTER ME!”

I stop in the street. *I’m not trying to kill you,* I think.

“I’m not trying to kill you,” I say, suspecting it isn’t the right thing to say.

“YES, YOU ARE! YOU’RE COMING AFTER ME!”

What do I say now? I don’t even disagree with him, exactly. *No, I’m not trying to kill you, but I’m worried someone might.* I feel the painful politics I cannot unembody. His black body is more at risk than my white body. Nothing I can say can ever make that untrue. And while I want nothing more than his health and wellbeing, how could he ever know that. *I was glad when I saw someone calling 911, so I am part of the system that may very well be on its way to come and kill you.*

That line of logic has no productive end. Convincing him of my motive isn’t the way through this.

“I don’t want to kill you, but I understand that I can’t convince you of that. You don’t know me,” I say.

“No, I DON’T,” he says, with emphasis. We have to speak loudly to each other, as we are about 30 feet away from each other again.

“Can I ask you a question,” I say, not fully knowing what I’m going to say next.

“I can answer your question,” he says resolutely, almost defiantly.

I stand there. Same page. Meet him where he is. Something about God.

“What’s your question?!?!” he yells. I realize I’m just standing there. “Ask it!”

I start slowly, piecing it together as I go.

“You said you were looking for God… I don’t know if I can help you find God… but, would you like to pray with me?”

His eyes are still wild, but he pushes his head forward to look at me more intently.

“Do I want to pray with you?” he repeats.

“Yes. Do you want to pray with me?” I say, with more confidence.

We just stare at each other. And his posture is suddenly different. His shoulders go back. His face goes soft.

“Yes. I’d like that,” he responds. “Pray with me.”

“Do you want me to stay here?” I ask, feeling weird about the conversation we are having at 30 feet, which requires all our interactions to be yelled.

“Yes. Stay there,” he says, “but go ahead, pray.”

Well crap. In my life, I have had many a prayerful experience. This is not one. The thought of it feels awkward. Nothing particularly comes to mind. But this is the only idea I have, so it’s by definition also the best one (and of course, also the worst).

“Father God,” I say, loudly, so he can hear me, pausing for a moment to try to come up with something.

“Father God,” he repeats.

*Entrainment!!!,* I think to myself, *if he keeps repeating me, this crisis is over. Tone, content, and rhythm are all mine if he repeats. And I’m calm. All I need is a few minutes, but it will end well.*

“I ask for peace.”

“I ask for peace.”

“I ask that you bring healing to the suffering”

“I ask that you bring healing to the suffering”

“And that all good things come to pass”

Unfortunately, I don’t get my few minutes. The distant sound of sirens is growing louder in a way that makes me know that emergency services are here. A large ambulance pulls around me. The man yells over the sound of the siren.

“I didn’t hear you, what’d you say?”

I shout at the top of my lungs. “And that all good things come to pass!”

“AND THAT ALL GOOD THINGS COME TO PASS!” he bellows back at me over the sound of the engine. I can tell he wants me to continue, but I can’t help but turn to the emergency responders who are getting out of their vehicle. One of them starts talking to the naked man. I don’t hear what the paramedic says, but the naked man’s response is vehement. He waves violently, dismissing them angrily, and points at me.

“I’m talking to HIM!” he shouts at them.

They don’t turn and look at me. *Rude,* I think at first, *can’t they see we are having a conversation?* But no, they see “crazy,” so they don’t see the context of the interaction that makes his yelling make sense. Just like I saw only “crazy” first. They say something else. He repeats his insistence in talking to me. *Us vs Them, it’ll work for now. But we need us and us by the end.*

“Do you want a blanket? Are you cold?” the female paramedic asks. Before he can respond, I echo her.

“Do you want a blanket?” I echo. He looks at me, then at them, then back at me.

“No.”

I make a decision. I am in control of this situation. They are going to start asking him questions, which he will need to respond to. So let’s get him in the question answering mode.

“What’s your name, sir?” I ask.

“Robert,” [changed for privacy]. “My name is Robert….” He says his last name, but I can’t hear it over the engine of the ambulance.

“My name is Tim Huffman,” I say, “Good to meet you, Robert.”

“Tim Hoffer,” Robert repeats. Close enough.

“Where do you live?” the male paramedic asks politely.

Robert answers him. Thank god. This might go well. The paramedic are calm, I’m calm, and Robert is calm. It is then the police officer arrives.

He comes up from behind me. He is short and he is wearing sunglasses. His shoulders are back, and he has an alpha male swagger about him. He walks directly toward Robert, stepping between Robert and me.

“Where are your clothes?” the officer demands. In my memory, he asks “Where the hell are your clothes?” Maybe he didn’t cuss, maybe he did. But his tone was unmistakably insulting.

Robert points at the cop and screams, “He’s gonna try to kill me. He’s gonna kill me!”

*Not today, Robert. We can solve this.* I speak before anyone else has a chance to talk.

“Hey Robert, can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, Tim.”

“Where are your clothes?”

“Where are my clothes?” he says, genuinely.

“They are back that way,” I point.

At this point, the female paramedic steps forward.

“Would you like to come into the ambulance so we can get you warm and take care of you?”

Everyone pauses. The police officer is standing back. The female paramedic is standing forward, arms in an open posture. Robert looks me straight in the eyes with a simple, clear, and honest question.

“What do you think?”

My heart breaks. I can hear a tinge of defiance in his voice, but I also hear fear. He is afraid for his life. He can’t trust the system designed to help him, in part, because it isn’t only designed to help him. It also harms him and fails him. I look at the two paramedics. Then at the police officer. I sound out my thought slowly.

“Robert… I don’t know these people, but I don’t think they are here to hurt you. I think they are here to help you. I think that if you get into their ambulance, they will get you a blanket and clothing and take care of you.”

Without pause, with a certainty that I don’t feel, Robert nods.

“Ok.”

He steps toward the ambulance. I feel the need to leave. Parked in front of the fire hydrant when I knew the police were coming. As he is entering the ambulance, I call out to him.

“Robert,” I catch his eye. “Bless you.”

“What?” he yells at me over its engine.

“Bless you, Robert!” I yell.

“Thank you. And bless you!” he yells back. And steps into the ambulance. The perfect, poetic end to an interaction of yelled prayers.

Kristen tells me that I did the right thing. That me being there helped things go peacefully. But I’ve helped enough people to the door of services to know that this isn’t necessarily a happy ending. I have no idea how Robert is tonight. I have no idea how his ambulance ride went. I have no idea how the medical and legal system will treat him.

There are a lot of things I don’t know. But I do know at least one thing.

There is profound power when we meet people where they are. They might be screaming about God in the middle of the road. But sometimes, all we really need is someone to scream about God in the middle of the road with us.

Gleaning Facebook: Margie Harbin Award

 To all my friends and colleagues at the Coosa River Basin Initiative,

I am truly honored to receive this award named for someone I greatly admired. I worked closely with Margie Harbin in the early eighties on the board of the Marshall Forest Stewardship Committee and especially on the project to renovate, re-route, and create new braille signage for the Big Pine Braille Trail. Margie was a delightful person and a dedicated environmentalist.

Our fight is not over for the dream of a Central Park centered on the land surrounding the Burwell Creek wetlands and flood plain and including our city property on Jackson Hill and the current Ridge Ferry Park. But we Romans did make a very clear statement to our city leaders in the election last November. That could not have happened without the work of Joe Cook and all the folks at CRBI over the last decade and more. I suspect Margie Harbin would have been right there with us in the fight we have waged for the last few months. I am certainly thankful that over 1900 people have publicly endorsed our efforts via Facebook, and that over two-thirds of the voters supported our two leading candidates for City Commission. Since we could not elect a new commission, we asked voters to register their displeasure with the commission’s plan to sell our public park land symbolically. We asked them to withhold their votes from incumbents who were bound to be elected. This awkward and difficult-to-explain strategy worked. We asked voters to withhold three of their six votes. Given the fact that the average voter only voted for four of a possible six choices, we were successful in about two-thirds of the cases!

I had been curious for a decade that the sale seemed to continue to progress relentlessly despite the fact that I could find virtually none except commissioners and developers who favored the project. What was needed was a frankly political effort to exert the will of the people. Thanks to Sheila Matthews Shaw, Jim Curry, Jim Ware, Stacy Cates, Monica Sheppard, Woody & Catherine Cobb Ledbetter, Laura L Adams, Kevin Morang, Bill Darby Joan Ledbetter, Sam Burnham, Nina Lovel, Drew Allison, Jeremy Harrison, John Schroeder, David Matheny, and many, many, more volunteers (I should not have started naming names --- I am leaving out so many who worked quietly or contributed money!) we managed to get the message out. I am very proud of having had the opportunity to provide some leadership in that effort, but it was really a matter of reminding people of the jewel our city owns and making the very nearly unanimous support for preserving that jewel obvious.

The effort has not ended. We must stay very vigilant until the memorandum of understanding between the city and the developers is no longer in effect. Then we must press for sensitive use of the property as connective tissue between Jackson Hill and Ridge Ferry Park and for ways to open the property to careful educational and recreational use.

Thank you to CRBI for this award, but much more for leading the nonpartisan efforts to preserve and protect our river basin. We at SRCP are anxious to do all we can in the more overtly political realm to support those goals.

Gleaning Facebook: To My Friends and Colleagues At CRBI

The award is a beautiful photograph by Joe Cook of Burwell Creek in the snow.

To all my friends and colleagues at the Coosa River Basin Initiative,

I am truly honored to receive this award named for someone I greatly admired. I worked closely with Margie Harbin in the early eighties on the board of the Marshall Forest Stewardship Committee and especially on the project to renovate, re-route, and create new braille signage for the Big Pine Braille Trail. Margie was a delightful person and a dedicated environmentalist.

Our fight is not over for the dream of a Central Park centered on the land surrounding the Burwell Creek wetlands and flood plain and including our city property on Jackson Hill and the current Ridge Ferry Park. But we Romans did make a very clear statement to our city leaders in the election last November. That could not have happened without the work of Joe Cook and all the folks at CRBI over the last decade and more. I suspect Margie Harbin would have been right there with us in the fight we have waged for the last few months. I am certainly thankful that over 1900 people have publicly endorsed our efforts via Facebook, and that over two-thirds of the voters supported our two leading candidates for City Commission. Since we could not elect a new commission, we asked voters to register their displeasure with the commission’s plan to sell our public park land symbolically. We asked them to withhold their votes from incumbents who were bound to be elected. This awkward and difficult-to-explain strategy worked. We asked voters to withhold three of their six votes. Given the fact that the average voter only voted for four of a possible six choices, we were successful in about two-thirds of the cases!

I had been curious for a decade that the sale seemed to continue to progress relentlessly despite the fact that I could find virtually none except commissioners and developers who favored the project. What was needed was a frankly political effort to exert the will of the people. Thanks to Sheila Matthews Shaw, Jim Curry, Jim Ware, Stacy Cates, Monica Sheppard, Woody & Catherine Cobb Ledbetter, Laura L Adams, Kevin Morang, Bill Darby Joan Ledbetter, Sam Burnham, Nina Lovel, Drew Allison, Jeremy Harrison, John Schroeder, David Matheny, and many, many, more volunteers (I should not have started naming names --- I am leaving out so many who worked quietly or contributed money!) we managed to get the message out. I am very proud of having had the opportunity to provide some leadership in that effort, but it was really a matter of reminding people of the jewel our city owns and making the very nearly unanimous support for preserving that jewel obvious.

The effort has not ended. We must stay very vigilant until the memorandum of understanding between the city and the developers is no longer in effect. Then we must press for sensitive use of the property as connective tissue between Jackson Hill and Ridge Ferry Park and for ways to open the property to careful educational and recreational use.

Thank you to CRBI for this award, but much more for leading the nonpartisan efforts to preserve and protect our river basin. We at SRCP are anxious to do all we can in the more overtly political realm to support those goals.

----------------------------------------

Laura L Adams Soooo proud of Terrell for waking everyone up! "Thank You" just isn't enough for all of the hours he has spent educating others, enlightening citizens and promoting the dream to #SaveRomesCentralPark for generations to come. #RomeGA #RomeGeorgia

Rita Lawler This was a wonderful advocacy effort. Good leadership and good support. I know it must continue.

Jim Ware Congratulations Terrell, I couldn't fathom a more worthy recipient.

Jim Curry Well deserved, Terrell! Was planning to be at the award meeting but was delayed at the last minute. My support definitely continues, however.

Melanie Collette Babb You deserved it
Keep pushing.

Juanita Mull Great job! Always great to have Terrell on your side! Love him.

Mary Caldwell Look at two of my favorite men...those are GOOD people! Great call Joe and kudos, Terrell...most heartily deserved!

Jeremy Harrison Way to go! Congratulations and thank you!

Larry Madden Congrats to you Terrell Shaw, an award greatly deserved. Thanks also to all of the volunteers and voters that continue to support SRCP. I cannot overlook the efforts of Joe Cook and CRBI for their efforts to protect our river systems. It has become very obvious over the years that governments are not always doing things in the best interest of the community without citizen input.

Ann Perkins Niemeier Congratulations! You did wonderful job!

Joel Todino Congrats! Good job, and well deserved reward.

Judi Borgo Congrats, Terry. Much-deserved.

Diane Loyd Gage Congratulations, Terry! I appreciate the efforts you and the others made to preserve this beautiful part of Rome. I don't live here, but do worship in Rome love the natural beauty there.

Lynne Crothers Williams Congratulations! So glad you and all the others have had success so far.

Joyce Mink Keep on working Terrell Shaw. You're making a better world.

Claudia Kennedy Good! You have done so much to deserve this award. Thank you for all you do for your community. Keep the faith!

Joan Shaw Turrentine One of the many things I have always admired about my brother is his total commitment to issues, people, and ideas that he loves and believes in.

Heather Shores Congratulations!

David Matheny You DA MAN!!

David Marlin Rains Congratulations! 

Sam Burnham We all wanted to save Burwell Creek but you rallied us together into a single team. People of diverse backgrounds & philosophies all got headed in the same direction for a common cause because of what you did. You led. Sometimes that meant talking & di… See more

Christie Hufstedler Boyd The best thing you did was to bring us all together in a cohesive group with a step-by-step plan of what we needed to do. You and Sheila Matthews Shaw opened your home and your hearts to lead. Thank you Terrell Shaw!

George Dean Congrats! U r like the Dr. Seuss' The Lorax who spoke for the trees!

Jodi Drobisch Whooo hoooo!

Winter Storm Jonas at the White House

A view of Winter Storm Jonas from the South Lawn of the White House. 

Gleaning Facebook: Peach State Storytelling Festival

 First of all, we folks in the Southern Order of Storytellers owe a debt of gratitude to Anthony Vinson, director of this year's Peach State Storytelling Festival. I think the overall quality of the stories was top notch. Sheila and I thoroughly enjoyed every session that we attended!

Well done, Anthony!

This festival is one of my favorites because it always includes an outstanding national teller, but also local and regional tellers and kids. It also includes at least a couple of workshops. And there are always shows/activities for all ages. This year Bil Lepp was the big attraction who kept us in stitches. There may be a couple of tellers who can match Bil in drawing power, but not many more than that! But the regional and local folks were also outstanding. Our current Big Fibbers champ is a case in point. This evening she contributed two stories to the Tall Tales session that were gems. Don't miss her story on opening night, March 17, here in Rome. She also plans to defend her title the next night in the 240th Annual Big Fibbers Contest!

Gleaning Facebook: Short Post, Long Comments

“A lot of people are saying that" Satan now has a side-kick? "I’m not involved in that, but a lot of people are bringing it up, absolutely," "you betcha," that's what "people are saying."

Judy Manning

They have also called Obama the "Anti Christ" , beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Terrell Shaw
I support President Obama because he has a clear set of political positions that I support. I challenge any Trump supporter to explain to me what Mr. Trump's political philosophy is beyond spending our national fortune on a ridiculous wall ... oh, I'm sorry, Mexico's national fortune... and shredding the first amendment for non-Christians. And he of course holds dear the book of Two Corinthians in that famous book that "blows it away."
Donald Trump, who inherited a fortune, and who could have put that fortune into the stock market at the time of his inheritance and have many times the fortune he now has, lacks basic cultural literacy. He tries to pander to Christians time and again but has no idea of basics that every person in America who has attended church twice a year or more knows.
"Two Corinthians"??? The Bible "blows it away"??? I despise Ted Cruz. Jeb Bush embraces the very neo-cons and supply-siders who destroyed our foreign reputation and our domestic economy. Marco Rubio memorizes sound bites. Rand Paul drank the libertarian Kool-aid. But at least each of them has a coherent, if misguided, political philosophy.
The man does not finish sentences, Judy. His speeches are gibberish. His stances in this race are contradictory of his history nine times out of ten.
He is, in short, a narcissistic empty suit.
But, if that's who the GOP wants to nominate, that's their concern. I don't have a say. Still I always hope the GOP will put up their strongest potential president. Sometime they win. Then we all must live under the result.

Judy Manning
Terrell Shaw, I am NOT a Trump supporter. I think he brought to the forefront some issues that desperately needed to be addressed but were not be cause of political correctness. I do not however, support or trust Trump and I do not believe he has the finesse to deal with foreign dignitaries that a President needs My objection to Obama is and has always been his racism. I liked what I saw and heard from him and had planned to vote for him when he first ran. .

Judy Manning
that was until the Reverend Jeremiah Wright reared his ugly head and started spewing his hatred for out country and for White people. I have yet to have anyone explain (and I have asked many times), how the Obama family could have attended that mans church for 20 years and not hold the same beliefs as Wright. I found it interesting that once the Reverend's beliefs were made public, Obama immediately distanced himself from him. I don't follow the crowd, I try to watch, listen and learn as much as possible for my self. I will admit that it is often difficult to dissect all the propaganda.

Terrell Shaw
You are not Trump supporter but you sure do take up for him often.
Any black person in America has heard and dealt with friends and relatives and even pastors who succumbed to anger over the racism they face every day of their lives and said foolish things. I deal almost daily with relatives and friends and even pastors I admire, who make asinine statements regarding race, or gun violence, or tax policy, or immigration, or call our President racist. I still love them and I still associate with my misguided friends and still participate in the ministries of my church even though I often strongly disagree with fellow church members and pastors.

Judy Manning
It isn't Trump that I take up for, it is the issues he has gotten people to think about, there is a difference. My friends come in all colors, shapes, sizes and Nationalities including a few from Iran, a lot from Mexico, Guatemala, etc, Politics should not be a dividing point, it should be for discussion and the opportunity to understand the differences in beliefs. My mother was 1/2 Native American and often faced racism, refusal to rent her a house. My grandmother was good enough to do the washing, ironing, sewing, churn butter and make jam & jelly for the people in the cove where she lived but not good enough to be invited to social events. So yes, I understand racism, perhaps not to the extent others do but no one chooses where they are born or who their parents and ancestors are and no one should be punished for what they had no control over.

Judy Manning
Joe Geddings Perhaps my statement above will explain. The fact that I believe Obama to be a racist does not make me one.

Judy Manning
When Obama first came on the scene to run for President, I thought he was great. He was eloquent and had the finesse that Trump greatly lacks. I had planned to vote for him because I felt it would be good for our country. I changed my mind not because of his skin color but because, as I said, I do not believe anyone could attend the Church with Reverend Wright, and be close personal friends with him for 20 years and not hold many of the same views he does.

Terrell Shaw
Judy I have a very close loved one who is a former speech-writer for a GOP president. I love and admire her but cringe at her political beliefs. Another loved one is head of one of the most prominent national right-wing organizations. I love and admire her but cringe at her political beliefs. I go to church every week, and sing in the choir next to a few folks whose political beliefs I find appalling. I worked extremely hard for our "Central Park" next to people whose beliefs are at least as far from my own as Rev. Wright's from you, but despite their sometimes astonishing beliefs, I still consider them friends. Your accusation of racism in our president is , as I said , to me, absurd. And you have stated it repeatedly. That's enough. Take that particular argument elsewhere. We have each made our points to one another on this one. 

Judy Manning
That's fine Sir. I was not trying to ruffle anyone's feathers, just to explain my position and reasons for my beliefs.

Anthony Vinson
And I hear he's the real dill!

Terrell Shaw
In fourth-grade social studies we always taught about the Columbian Exchange. I told the kids that the CE was a "big deal". We surveyed everyone's t-shirts and put stars on a world map to show countries of origin and illustrate how the CE continues to this day. We talked about plants, skills, inventions, diseases. My end of unit test included a short list of terms to define. As a I graded papers one evening my wife was startled as I broke out laughing from my easy chair. One little boy responded to "Columbian Exchange" with a three word quote of my own words likely from his own notes: "A Big Dill."
When I heard the Half-Term Governor of Alaska yesterday, I thought of that little boy.