Part One: Those People

Last Tuesday my husband, Joe, regaled me with a shocking news item. Somewhere in the Midwest or down South or someplace, a convenience or liquor store or some kind of shop was being held up, and a customer or some other witness called 9-11.

The operator hung up on him. Shortly thereafter the robber shot or beat or otherwise killed the owner.

The upshot of the story, of course, is that the murder might have been prevented had the operator responded promptly and properly. As Joe tells it, the operator, when confronted afterwards, supposedly said that she "didn't feel like talking."

As is apparent from my recap, Joe was beyond vague on the wheres and whats of the event, but one detail he recalls vividly: the operator was black.

Segue to: "She'd rather go on Welfare than be bothered to work."

Excuse me? Is this the man I've loved for six-plus years talking? Yes, unfortunately, indeed it is.

Next question: Do I--should I--still love this man?

Before addressing these questions, I shall come clean and confess that I was not entirely shocked by Joe's declaration. It would be disingenuous of me to imply that his sucker punch caught me utterly unawares.

Truth be told, intimations of Joe's bigotry abound. Joe's latest remark was merely the most blatant in recent memory, and as such I had to--and did--call him on it. At first, he defended his position, then--much belatedly--kinda, sorta apologized so as to mollify me.

Did he succeed? Kinda, sorta. I didn't storm out of the room--nor throw him out of it. I merely acknowledged his half-assed apology with a terse half-nod and we resumed watching the 63-year-oldie "To Tell The Truth."

Dare I confront my own truth? Is my failure to react with unabashed outrage and accordingly end the relationship indicative of blatant moral laxity and despicable cowardice? Or may I put a positive spin on my passivity by offering it as proof of my "tolerance for others' views?"

I don't think so. Being thus "non-judgmental" is not necessarily a desirable trait. It is rather, I fear, euphemistic for some serious slippage in the disks of a deformed ethical backbone.

Kindly refer four paragraphs prior to the phrase "...the most blatant in recent memory..." That was not simply stuffed in by way of mindless word-padding. Indeed--albeit five-plus years post-"recent"--the memory remains vivid:

Driving back from a party, Joe remarks that a guest who'd had-two-too-many was "your typical, obnoxious, Irish 'Alkie.'"

Coming from a long line of Emerald Islers (faux-ruby hair notwithstanding) spanning the spectrum from social-sipper to six-packer, I accordingly couldn't stomach that statement . I calmly inform Joe that out of respect for my family--and myself--I could not continue to see him.

Joe is shocked (shouldn't have been--he is well aware of my ancestry!) and shaken. I repeat--this time with anguish attached--that it would be a betrayal of my parents, etc., etc... were I to rationalize that his words were anything short of outrageous. At this, Joe, appropriately contrite, acknowledges that indeed it was a terrible thing to have said.

Bingo! Apology accepted, break-up averted.

And in the five-plus years since, Joe has never once--not once!--said anything as overtly ugly.

Until last Tuesday. And, so...now...to answer those questions: Do I--should I--still love him?

Yes, I do. No, I shouldn't. If I had to do it over, I wouldn't. That is, had he said such a thing on our first date, there would have been no second.

As it is, I am six-plus years invested; moreover, at mid-point, I'd recklessly raised the stakes: i.e. compounded the risk via marriage.

Actions, as they say, speak louder than words, and Joe's actions are impeccable as regards me and everybody else. That is, despite the ugly group-think-and-talk, Joe is beautiful to behold one-on-one-and-all.

So, I've chosen to live in this divided state of unrest, amidst its civil war of cognitive dissonance, to be battered by battling emotions betwixt what Joe says versus what Joe does.

To avoid aggravating this chronic discomfort, I refrain from probing the sensitive spots. That is, when Joe spouts off about "...'Those People' who spawn all these kids who end up on welfare..." I pretend that by "Those People" he merely means "young people."

I console myself that Joe never has--never would!--say the N-word.

Would he?

If he ever did, of course, I'd leave him on the spot.

Really.

Wouldn't I?



Part Two: Redemption

And with a joyful jump, here he comes--out from the Bigot Box!

The jump was joyful from my perspective, in that I beheld my husband, Joe's, genuine joy in the movie's very happy ending. We'd been watching "Love Field" with Michelle Pfeiffer and Dennis Haybert portraying an early-60's, against-all-odds, interracial couple. "Lorene" and "Paul" had briefly, yet intensely, bonded during a frantic, two-day run-and-hide attempt, during which Lorene helps shelter Paul's five-year-old daughter, with whom he'd absconded to rescue her from abuse.

Chase over: The trio is apprehended; Paul is arrested; Lorene arranges for the care of Paul's child, whom she visits regularly. Fast-forward four years: Paul is released from prison; Lorene collects the girl; they meet up. Lorene and Paul greet each other with affection, wish each other well, turn to go their separate ways. Lorene drives off...

But wait...Not so fast! Not halfway down the block, Lorene boomerangs a Big "U" back to Paul and the girl.

"How wonderful!" Joe cried--as in both senses of the word: that is "exclaimed" and "teared up"--"She's come back! Now they can get married and be a real family!"

And so it was, that when "push" came to "shove", colorblind "push" shoved old black-and-white spoilsport out of the box and ushered in two people in love.

In the harsh light of my recent rant pegging Joe as a "Those People" racial-profiler, I could see him clearly--stereotypically!--marching off in his huff, Mascot of the Separate-But-(not-necessarily!)-Equal Camp.

Surprise, surprise!

For, when the occasion arose, as it did last night, Joe rose to that occasion magnificently. Person-to-Person trumped Group-Think. That is--in the case of "These People" versus "Those People"--"These People," Lorene and Paul, prevailed, triumphant! Not just in the movie, but also in Joe's wide, warm heart.