“The time is always right to do what is right.”
—Martin Luther King, Jr.
Today’s story is from Kathy Hansen.
Another state line. Another state sign.
Welcome to North Carolina!
Kathy (left) with dad Paul, mom Cora, brother & sister
Remember those road trips when you were a kid? Twenty questions. Songs. Counting cows. Name that car. State capitols. Word games. The hours drug on. Are we there yet? How much longer?
Now imagine a journey of two and half days. Every summer, that’s what we did. Grandma and Grandpa waited anxiously for us to pull in.
My name is Kathy. I was just 10. From Syracuse, New York to Florida we drove. In 1956, before interstates, it was a slog of almost three days. Maps, coolers, snacks, suitcases, plus Mom, Dad, me, my two brothers and sis. The car so packed it was fused to explode. Dad drove, Mom beside him. Me, my brothers and sister crammed in the back.
On day two, a few hours in, something attracted my eye, a black family on the road. African-American is now the correct term. Five folks packed in a wagon. Mom and dad up front. Three kids in back. We tailed them. Then they tailed us.
I was intrigued. Black skin? New York state born and bred, I’m not sure I’d seen a person like that before then. I waved shyly at their little girl. She was in pigtails like me. They passed as we stopped to fill up. We zipped by them at the overlook.
It had been over an hour. No sign of those folks. Then a roadside diner appeared. “Lunch time!” said Dad. I was ready. My tummy rumbled. My butt hurt. Lunch! A break! I couldn’t wait. We climbed out, stretched and walked in. We slid into a booth to the smell of burgers and fries. A waitress approached and asked for our drinks (Coca-Cola for me).
I peered out the window. What did I see? Our friends from the road! I smiled as I watched the five-some climb out. The little girl straightened her dress. Her dad straightened his tie.
But our waitress noticed too. She rushed to the door as the family approached. The “Open” sign she flipped. “Closed” it now read. You should have seen the face on that little girl. Her dad, as well. It was too sad to tell. They climbed back into their car. Drove off. We never saw them again.
“Get up,” my dad said. “We’re leaving.” “But dad. . . ,“ we protested. The tone in Dad’s voice? No arguing here! We slid from our booth. The waitress’s jaw dropped, as we walked out the door.
“Sorry Miss,” said Dad, “But I won’t give my business to a place like this.”
What did I learn that day? A bad status quo was a no-go for Dad. He’d rather go hungry than eat with jerks. I feel exactly the same way.
“The time is always right to do what is right.”
—Martin Luther King, Jr.
Kathy Hansen on Grand Canyon Road Trip in 2010