John Van Nostrand: Never thought about it until later

Jan. 18—At times that saying is true, you don't know what it is really like until you experience it.

A majority of my life has been in smaller, rural towns where a majority of the population was white as sour cream. Monday's Martin Luther King Jr. holiday again reminded me of how I need to contribute to improving race relations no matter where I am at.

The Colorado town I grew up in has a Hispanic influence and I never thought about racism until I reached my college years and early adulthood. A friend of mine, who was a few years younger, lived on the same block and he was Hispanic. We played wiffle ball in has backyard. We threw the football in his front lawn. We camped overnight on summer nights in the boat of our neighbor (who lived between us) and parked the boat in his driveway during the boating season.

I never thought about him only as Hispanic. I thought of him as a friend.

He wasn't the only one. A girl in my graduating class was noticeably darker complexion and had interracial parents as her mother was White. Her mom cut my hair, and lot of other kids' hair in the class. I didn't know of the girl until seventh grade through another friend. At the time, multiple elementary schools went through sixth grade then students transferred to the junior high for seventh and eighth.

I didn't think any different about her complexion as it was just another kid from another part of town who was in the same school building.

The Hispanic exposure continued through high school. I eventually had a class my senior year with my friend from the same block. I sat behind a girl from his grade who was Hispanic and started on the basketball team and was a blast to sit beside. I looked deeper than the surface.

My unsettling moments with racist-attitudes didn't happen until I got to college. It probably started before, as where I attended the acronym of the school was also converted into an awful, race-and-stereotypical-themed description of the students who normally enrolled. Coincidentally, the L.A. riots from the Rodney King incident occurred my freshman year. It was a strange combination to learn about race relations and racism in my own surroundings and in other parts of the country.

The college basketball team had Black players. There was a Black person in school administration my first year. I didn't have any interaction with the players other than watching the games. The man in administration was very polite and engaged well with other students.

My first two jobs after college showed me more. My first job was in a rural area including some subtle, racial attitudes. The following job was in a more urban setting where I think the racial attitudes got lost in the hustle and bustle. I won't say racism did not exist, but I did not see it.

At one of my rural stops in my career, I worked with a Hispanic woman who had a Black husband. She once told me she could feel some tension when she and her husband went car shopping in the area, mainly because of him. Other than the typical support comments, I didn't know what to say since I've never had a moment in my life where I thought I had to fight racism.

Most of my career and adult life have been in small-town, rural America where it seems diversity is more in the number of brown M&M's you have in the little bag than in your neighborhood. But I know the racism exists. The comments heard hear going through the grocery store, mainly after something racial makes national headlines.

Years ago while on a trip in Atlanta, we took the kids to Six Flags amusement park. My wife rode a roller coaster and shared the cart with a Black man who was big enough to play basketball and football. After the ride, he walked over to the bench where I was waiting with our kids. With a smile and a laugh, he each gave them a high-five and said, "You have a cool mom who rides coasters."

Him being Black wasn't an issue. His comment and demeanor are what made that moment memorable.

My brother's wife is from Japan. I have enjoyed learning about her home country, and a place my daughter spent a summer in 2019 through a student-exchange program. She wants to go back to learn more.

A year ago, my son and I were eating late on a Saturday in a favorite Kansas City restaurant and we appeared to be the only White people in the building. He recognized it, too. It was nothing derogatory, just an observation of something with better odds happening being in a metro area like Kansas City.

We never felt odd, threatened or out of place. We had been there before. Even the restaurant employees were Black and had exceptional service.

My son looked up from the plate of French fries and said, "Dad, I need more of this experience."

"I do, too," I replied.