A thought occured to me last evening.

I was visiting a local restaurant and as with any Friday night, there were dozens of young people crammed into the dining room. Each seemed to be paired in groups of four, two guys and two gals. While there is nothing remarkable about this in particular, what did strike me as a significant change from the many years ago I would have done the same, is the number of mixed ethnicity couples. Of course I have no way of knowing whether any of the people were a couple as I didn’t take the time to observe them for clues about their romantic tendencies, but the fact they were paired as they were would lend to that perception.

I thought about this for a few minutes and I had to ask myself why I found it unusual. Had I been brought up to believe such things were not supposed to take place? Of course I hadn’t, and after some considerable thought, I believe I may have found an answer.

During my childhood and young adult life, the prospect of seeing couples of differing skin color was unusual, I can only remember two and they weren’t treated favorably by most people of the time. Since our reactions to events in life are mostly a learned response, perhaps I learned from an early age that mixed couples are treated harshly by society and as such, they are to be avoided. Maybe that is why I found this unusual and maybe that trend of ostracizing those who appear differently than ourselves is changing.

I find this refreshing and I take great pride in the fact that so many of our youth have the ability to see beyond differences that would have been frowned upon even 20 years ago. I challenge you to put away preconceived ideas and embrace a society that appears to be learning from our past failures.

And here is the song Help, from the same performance.

Upon this Earth, oft we’re blest
with joys beyond the stars;
and we pine for those who left
with years of painful scars.

Eternal rest now dear child,
upon that fateful shore
and find that peace not beguiled
by those we all abhor.

Spirit, now we ask of you,
life short, but yet complete.
Give this Phoenix all her due
and make her life replete.

Those whose will, ill they carry
across that great divide,
to the depths, let them tarry
where ne’er a soul shall hide.

May Heavens gate open wide
and let your spirit dwell,
while those who care not have died
and spend their death in hell.

Dedicated in Memory of Phoenix Sinclair – June 2005 – Winnipeg, CA

Copyright © 2008 Keith Blackie

The year was 1976. As a young boy of 11 years old, I surprisingly had few friends. It wasn’t my fault and it wasn’t because people didn’t like me … it was because of the rural location in which I lived. The closest “friends” were nearly 1/2 mile away and with all of the responsibilities I had on a daily basis, there was very little time to make friends.

Late one afternoon, I was approached by a young lady named Cindy, who asked if I would like to go to church. I knew what church was, I had been to church regularly in the town I used to live in some 3 years earlier. I jumped at the opportunity to have interaction with other kids my age in a setting other than a classroom. Thus began the saga.

On Sunday mornings for the next several months, I was picked up regularly for church. Frank, the youth pastor and husband of Cindy, was soft spoken and personable. His demeanor was quiet and he seemed to be the kind of guy that everyone liked. It was no wonder that I had taken to him and Cindy. It wasn’t long until I was spending weekends with them and then in 1978, I spent the entire summer with Frank. Cindy had went out of town and Frank was alone. At the same time, my family was taking a vacation to Disney. I elected to forgo the Disney trip and stay with Frank.

I had the run of the place. I had whatever I wanted to eat, listened to the radio, played records, rocked in the rocking chair and even decided to cut the grass a couple of times. Frank was a true friend to a young boy, and I felt the need to gain approval. After several days with Frank, all I needed was just a hint from him as to what he wanted me to do and I would do it willingly and with a fervor you rarely see from a boy of 13. I sought his approval and he gave it. The symbiotic relationship we had forged seemed as if it would never end.

Of course, as all things do, there was a reconing. It wasn’t Frank’s fault, in fact I don’t really know whose fault it was. There was enough blame to go around I am sure, but suffice to say, by 1982 our friendship was tenuous. I was interested in girls, and they were interested in me. I had a job, a car and due to some family problems, became what is commonly termed as an “emancipated minor” at the tender age of 16. For the next several years, I had only casual contact with Frank and Cindy. The brief encounter at the store, passing on the highway, nothing extraordinary.

However, as time passed I began to consider our past relationship and once again rekindled it summer in 1991. By this time I was married and had children of my own, and it was my own children who were becoming involved with Frank and Cindy. A local church was having Vacation Bible School and someone from the church came by and asked if my son would like to join them. He of course was elated … fun activities, playing with other children his age and gaining approval from other adults. Frank and Cindy were deeply involved with the childrens program and I was proud to have my own child involved. I had no idea how seriously the impact of my previous relationship with them had been, in fact, it wasn’t until last week that I realized just how much of an impact they had on my life.

I rarely see Frank and Cindy, but when I do, they are always the kind people they have proven to be in the years I was literally a part of their family. Now years later, I found myself sitting in an auditorium at a local church, reading from my bible. This bible isn’t of any particular importance, any other bible would be the same, except, I finally realized why it was important to me. It wasn’t the faith that it inspires, as the words printed inside inspire, not the binding. It wasn’t that I have had this particular bible for 30 years. What makes this bible important to me is the inscription written so many years ago by a young couple seeking to help others. Written from the heart on the inside cover is “We Love You”, and this past week, I finally realized what that meant to me. The impact that Frank and Cindy have made on my life will leave an indelible mark and for that, I am truely blessed to have had a true friend in them. I will continue to cherish the bible they gave me as a young boy and I hope to be able to continue the legacy they started by being a true friend to another child.