The year was 1963. Most of you weren't even born yet; I was 13.
In my junior high school (what's now called "middle" school) in Indiana, we had no black students until I entered the ninth grade. Then Linda Lou showed up at school. Her parents were both teachers who had just moved into town to take positions at the university. She was smart, she was funny, she was pretty.
I had a huge crush on her. I thought her hair was cool. We shared several classes. We could talk about anything (and did). We had lunch together. We practiced Spanish together, and she helped me with the verbs. She read my stories like a true fan. She was my best friend.
Naturally I wanted to accept her invitation for a sleep-over. Now... my family wasn't real social; I'd never had a sleep-over myself, but had been to other kids' homes - so of course I assumed that my parents, both educated, intelligent people, would have no problem with it, especially since her parents were university teachers, and obviously responsible people, even if new in town.
Wrong.
It was the first time I'd ever really encountered prejudice personally - other than the color of her skin, she was just another kid (and a lot better at Spanish), and my parents were longtime UU attendees, disdainful of the prejudices of "religious" people - so their refusal was stunning. I argued. I cajoled. I pleaded. I could not believe they were serious. Eventually, the source of their refusal became so obvious, it finally made a dent in my consciousness. I was outraged. Even this many years later, I'm still outraged... by the thinness of the excuses, by the stupidity of the "reasons," by the unfairness to her and to me, by the hurt they inflicted on her, THROUGH me. I've never forgotten the look on her face, and I've never forgiven them for putting it there, or for changing our friendship into something uncomfortable for us both. She moved on to a different high school, and we lost touch - but I've always remembered her.
So... this election was for you, Linda Lou, as much as it was for me. The vindication of our friendship, the validation of you as a person to people like my parents, the validation of me as someone who didn't agree with their prejudice. Your value was never in question for me (and I hope you realized that, somewhere along the way.) Back then, I was powerless.... not any longer.
I miss you.