Fifty Years Later Are We Still a Racist Nation?

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I am not clear, as to what has happened to our Country, Your Country, My Country.  What has turned us into self centered, selfish, nasty, disrespectful, rude, people?  How did we get here? I’ve been watching, closely for the past 50 years. I have dutifully consumed the information of the written word, from both sides, regarding our Country. I have dedicated my time to News Reports and updates as to what was going on. What has happened to the Country that I love so?

I was raised in New York, just outside of the City, where many ethnic groups lived side by side in harmony with respect, and in an aspect of Community and concern for each other. I am from Irish Heritage and there were several Irish Immigrants; but there was  Black, Italian, and German families, who lived on my block, too.  We went to school with Italian, German, Jewish, Black,  Polish, Mexican, and various Latin Heritage  kids.  We were all in the same boat. We were all kids of lower income parents.

I never thought that I came from a poor neighborhood. All the houses were  similar in size and in pretty good repair. The yards were well kept, not manicured like some are today, no elaborate landscaping, but the grass was cut every other weekend, the weeds were visible but manageable, and were not overtaking the flowerbeds. I knew we were all in a similar financial situation, that we were in the same circumstances, all equal, and we knew, that we were all equal.

Our fathers were hard working men, who provided for their families, in the best way they could.  Our mothers were creative, resourceful, and recycled everything, long before it was fashionable. Every morning, before I left the house to attend a Parochial School, I drew a silhouette around the bottom of my shoe, on the cardboard that came from one of my fathers shirts,and cut it out, like paper dolls, to create an inner sole for my shoes. I thought everyone did this. I never gave it a second thought. It was just what I did, just like how, sometimes I did my homework on the brown paper bag, that my mother had brought home from the store around the corner, which held the 4 shoulder pork chops with the small circle bone. Joe and Piney, immigrants from Poland, owned the grocery store and ran a tab for the neighborhood women, until they were able to pay the bill, which was usually once a month.