Having had six children, I am rather amazed that my wife and I
have only two grandchildren, a girl, almost 9, and a boy, almost
7.
Having had six children, I am rather amazed that my wife and I have only two grandchildren, a girl, almost 9, and a boy, almost 7.
Nevertheless, both of them are rather outstanding in their own way. Our granddaughter has been pictured in an advertising brochure and I have written about her in my “Burt’s Bits.” But, the grandson has now come forth as being very intelligent.
In the past, he amazed me by reading a paragraph about personality. I had taken one of those tests from an e-mail that analyzes your personality in a paragraph, then as the print-out was lying on my desk, he picked it up and read it aloud.
Now, I don’t think he really understood what the personality analysis said, but he did read it.
Later, he played “Monopoly” with his grandmother and his stuffed dog, “Bolt.” Of course, he is the banker and directs the proceedings. Incidentally, “Bolt” won. His parents say that “Bolt” wins most games at home.
So, maybe it was no surprise when we – grandparents – were invited to an awards ceremony at his school where he would be presented with a first grade “Student of the Month for Excellent Reading” award.
Many years have passed since I have attended a grade school campus. This “California Distinguished School’s” size approximates the Morgan Hill Nordstrom school, near where we live. Also, a large park was adjacent to the school. All this at the foot of that prominent hill with a church on top that is in the middle of San Jose and just south of the Willow Glen area.
As we entered the school grounds, the principal introduced himself. He appeared to be of Chinese ethnicity, yet with a Vietnamese last name.
We entered the auditorium and sat on benches with a few other parents. Then the students filed in and sat on the floor. There must have been 200 or more.
As the names were called, our grandson was the second named, then some six or seven others were presented achievement awards. Then awards were given for “No tardies, No absence” during the semester.
As the awards were given out, I looked about the room. It was as if some master presence had begun at the international date line and moved west around the world choosing members of every race and ethnicity and placed in that room. From white and red hair to skin and hair of light hues of tan and brown to darker hues, then lighter hues of black to darker. From the Philippines to Asia to India to Africa to Europe to Middle and South America, all seemed to be represented in this one room, yet, all Americans.
How times have changed. At my 1930s Oklahoma grade school, there was only one boy of Mexican heritage. All the rest of us were white. In those segregated times, black students had their own schools as well as a certain designated area in which to live.
After the ceremony, we and our grandson’s parents as well as other parents went to picnic tables on the playground to wait for the school day to end.
We talked to many of the other parents. One Filipina mother was married to an Iranian. She said he still spoke Farsi at home. Her little daughter hid behind her mother, apparently being terribly shy. The little girl looked just like the young girls we see in pictures from Iraq. I tried to play with the little daughter by trying to peer around her mother.
As school let out, the kids ran out to play or go home. Many kids, whose parents were there, stayed and played on the playground equipment.
So, all the red haired, brown haired and black haired children, all the white, brown, black children played together.
And, for all those who called me, bigot and racist, after my article regarding Obama last October …
Our grandson was not the redhead. His hue is brown, his hair is black.
This Anderson’s mother is from Mindanao, the Philippines.
