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This is Isaiah, and this is my story about Isaiah.

I'm not a huge race fan.  I'll go to a race once every couple of years or so.  I'd go more if I were dating a race fan or had some close friends who went often, but the single Bobby doesn't get overly excited about going to the trouble and expense to make the trip. 

But, when you get an all-expenses paid trip with "Hot" passes that offer unlimited access to the pits, cars and drivers, plus tickets in the stands, fully catered, with headphones and mini-TV's to follow the race while it is going on, then you get a little more excited to go. 

The guy that I work with who put this trip together also knows the in-and-outs of getting the best parking that will get you out of there quickly and doesn't cost a dime.  He actually knows of a side street that has just a few spaces that evidently most don't know of, or don't use for whatever reason.  It's a great place to pull out the chairs and a table, the cooler and some snacks and do a little pre-gaming. Our driver left some space between us and the car behind us and we set up our chairs there on the side of the street and kicked back for a little male bonding.  

The side of the street that we parked on left a grassy space between the curb and a fenced in business of some sort.  Across the street was some obviously low-rent apartment buildings.  From my vantage point of facing the opposite side of the street I could tell that we were in a pretty rough part of town.  But passer-bys all looked friendly enough, so I was never really worried about anything. 

I saw a young boy walk from the corner apartment over to the sidewalk across from us and just stand there looking at us, looking down the street, or looking behind him.  I made eye contact with him a few times, gave him a couple of smiles, and just watched him wondering what may be going through his head.  After a couple of minutes of standing there he headed across the street and came over to talk to us.  I introduced myself and reached out to shake his hand and he immediately came over and sat down on the curb beside me.  Everyone knows that I love the kids, and they are typically drawn to me for whatever reason, so I wasn't shocked when he sat down. 

So, I began talking to him and asking him a few questions:  how old is he, does he live across the street, what grade is he in, etc.   He answered all of my questions as politely as imaginable and then asked me a question of his own. 

Isaiah:  "Do you want to know what my daddy told me?"
Bobby:  "No, what did your daddy tell you?
Isaiah:  "My daddy told me that white people are all crazy!"

Our day was full of laughs and good times, but we never laughed any harder all day that we did at that moment.  The way he said it was so innocent and so honest and so courageous considering he was this small kid surrounded by five big white men, that it was really one of the funniest things that I've ever heard. 

But after the humor of it all rubbed off, we all got to thinking of how sad that really is that he is being taught that at such a young age, and without even being given the opportunity to form his own opinion.  I've always been one who felt like racism exists on both sides of the fence, and that there are those on both sides who are raised into it.  I'm not making any excuses for it, because I don't think there is one.  But, that's coming from someone who doesn't feel like I'm racist at all.  I think that all of my black friends would concur.  So would the two black girls I've dated and my niece who is biracial and the love of my life.  So, as someone who isn't racist, I think it's really a shame that Isaiah is being groomed into being one. 

We chilled out with Isaiah for probably another 15 minutes or so, gave him some soda and chips and let him climb through our van and play for a few minutes before we headed over to the track.  I never once witnessed any of these guys displaying any kind of behavior that would believe that they were any more of a racist than I am, and they were all very good with Isaiah.  He felt so comfortable with us that he asked if he could go to the race with us and just hang out with us at the track all day.  Of course we knew that wasn't realistic, so we got some pictures with him and told him goodbye, but that we hoped to see him again someday.  As the day went on I came to remember that the greatest influence on a child's life is the same sex parent, so I know that it is wishful thinking, but I kept thinking back to our interaction with him and hoping that his experience with us will leave a positive impression and that maybe, just maybe, he will come to form a different opinion of white people.