Conversation

When I was a kid, the KKK planned a march through our downtown. I was at my grandparents’ house for the summer. The phone rang, my grandma called my grandpa to the phone. I sat and listened to his side of the conversation.

“Who? When? Where? Where are we meeting? On my way.”

Being the little boy, I want to go with him, whatever it was he was going to do. Lemme go!

“Not this time, son”, as he brushed past me.

With that, he went to the hall closet, pulled out his shotgun and a box of shells, and sped away in his truck. Time for business.

There was no KKK march through town that night or any other night. People don’t know about it because it didn’t happen. I think about that a lot lately.

Absolutely a true story.