Eating my words

I was all set to be judgemental on Bill, who is the father of one of the only white kids (daughter) in my son's class. You see, without getting too confusing, Bill lives right on the edge of another wealthy neighborhood-it's acually in between the 'hood and the un-hood, and he's actually in the neighborhood for the other school-where-the-little-rich-white-kids-go. But they turned him away because of class sizes. so he's at the hood school.

He recently asked me about where we live, and asked what school my son would go to next year.

I didn't reciprocate the question after i explained that my son would continue to go to that school.

and i dont know why i was even sweatin' the issue. but all evening, i was thinking. Oh, so he's really NOT one of those cool white people. he's ONLY here because he has to bethere. but next year, he'll fit in with all the wealthy snobs at the best little school in NE portland. He's not cool at all.

the next day, i decided to confirm my judgments. to my surprise, he plans to continue his kid at our school. i felt glad. glad that he's not afraid to be around people like us.

you can't always judge a book by it's cover. he looks so well kept, and so clean cut. and his kids look so clean. and nice. and well dressed.

But wait-so are we! and we're not in the hood neighborhood either. sometimes i can be such a hypocrite. i have lots of friends, equally white and black , but by the same token, i'll second guess an unknown white person's motives in a minute.

i should really stop. I like Bill.