It was near the end of World War II. We were living in Wharton, Texas. My Father had recently returned home from government deployment in Alaska. Housing was hard to find in wartime Wharton. We rented from a 100 year old woman everyone called “old lady Gallaher.” We lived on a very large city block. It included the house surrounded by a white picket fence. Next to the house was a huge garden. Behind the garden was a pasture that was home to the old lady’s cow. Immediately behind the house was an orchard. In the orchard was a shed where I often found him.

His name was Jim. Everyone else called him, “N Word Jim.” My mother taught me to call him Jim. She was concerned about him on hot Texas days. I was often dispatched to deliver him a mason jar filled with cold water. He received warmly and was appreciative of the water. When I was older I learned that “Old Lady Gallaher” was the granddaughter of the last slaveholder in Wharton County. Jim was said to be the grandson of the last slave the family owned.

Jim’s food was set out on a table behind the “old ladies” kitchen. It was not good quality food. It was food becoming unacceptable for the old lady’s table. This was unacceptable to my mother. She put a table under our kitchen widow. Then whatever we ate was also on Jim’s table. It was war time and we rarely had steak. One day we did. The old lady was walking in the garden and saw Jim eating at the table under our kitchen widow. She was not happy!

I was at our kitchen table. The door to the hall was open. I heard mutter as she scuffled down the hall, “Damn Yankees!” It was the first time anyone had been angry with anyone in my family. I was afraid! I was five!

I had heard white people say we treat our “N-words” good! What was happening to Jim was not good. What has continued to happen to people of color in our country is not good.  “It is time for all people to be anti-racist.” “It is time to call racism out when we see it and hear it.”

When is my first memory of racism? SEVENTY FIVE YEARS AGO! It is time!