July 23, 1969

Negro and WASP Enjoy ‘Friendly Town’

Candor compels me to admit that our new visitor for a week seemed strange at first.  Kindra is a Negro and I'm a WASP.

But Kindra is a 10-year-old girl of shy but pleasant personality, and I'm a parent who likes kids.  The second night I gave her a hug and tucked her into bed.  The following day she called me "Dad."  Each of us enjoyed her brief stay.

Kindra's mother had registered her three children with the Akron "Friendly Town" program.  It was her hope that someone in a small community could take them in for a short vacation out where there is plenty of trees and grass.

We had a spare room and three acres of woods and yard so we joined some of our friends in inviting a few "inner city" children.

The Friendly Town program has been in operation for several years in Akron, Cleveland and other big cities.  It is successful in so far as suburbanites and small town residents open their doors to the disadvantaged youngsters.  It is growing in scope each year.

Children six to 12 years are eligible for the experience.  A few are white, but most are black - the economics of past years of segregation being what they are.

Kindra can no more help being a Negro any more than I can help being a "white anglo-saxon protestant." We were just born that way.  The racists on both sides of the civil-rights fence presume to see some significance in our natural-born conditions.  But Kindra seemed unconscious of my "waspiness" and the only thing that impresses me about a person is character.  Consequently we got along famously.

If she was shy with my wife and me, Kindra certainly wasn't with my own youngsters and the kids next door.  There was not the slightest awareness of skin color on the part of anyone - except perhaps briefly by our four-year-old.

Steve accepted the contrast between his own fair complexion and the dark brown of his new playmate apparently as a natural difference, as all children are different from each other in some respect.

He was curious, however, by the contrast between Kindra's palms and her arm.

"Why?" he asked.

We held our breath.

Kindra laughed lightly, "That's just the way I was born," "Oh," said Steve, and that was the end of it.

Our only sad note came when some child one day asked about Kindra's eye.  She is blind in one eye and the lid droops.  The impairment is not readily noticeable, but Kindra is sensitive about it.

Kindra went to her room and closed her door.  Bye and bye, Mrs.  Williams went up to see what was wrong and learned the reason.

"How long have you been with us, honey?" said Mrs. Williams.

"Three days," said Kindra.

"How many fingers does Chris, our oldest daughter, have on her left hand?"

"Why, five, I guess," said Kindra.

"Only four," my wife replied.  "Chris had to have a finger removed because of a very bad infection.  Yet, you didn't notice it and very seldom does anyone else.  The reason is because Chris never pays any attention to it.  Even when someone does notice her loss, it never makes any difference to them.  It's what's inside you that counts with people who count."

That night at dinner, Kindra glanced several times at Chris' hand.  The loss of a finger is not nearly as serious as the loss of an eye, of course, but something was registering with Kindra.  Hopefully she learned to make a little better accommodation to her handicap.

Kindra had a great week and so did our children.  She went with us for a boat ride and picnic.  Caught lightning bugs and put them in a jar to brighten up her bedroom.  Dressed up in Mrs.  Williams old clothes.  Played "dolls" for hours.  Rode in a cart behind my riding mower.  Ate watermelon on the back terrace.  Ran through the sprinkler every day.  Went to see a Walt Disney movie.  Romped with our gentle dog Ginger.

Toward the end, however, Kindra got a little homesick for her mother and friends.  She asked to go home Saturday night instead of Sunday morning.  She said goodbye to all her Friendly Town playmates of the week.  One of the older girls gave her a doll - a much appreciated gift because Kindra didn't have one.

We were sorry to have Kindra go so soon, surely some of her good manners would have rubbed off on our littlest ones in time.  But we understood.

Home is where the heart is.  And Kindra's heart was back in the "inner city" with her family.

Love, not advantages, nourishes the human soul.  Just the same, the mind needs a few nice things, too.  I pray that Kindra will find both.

Author: Lindsey Williams