Let The Baby Have His Bottle

... and let the media and the rioters and the race baiters have their fun far away. Where we live, it's just something you read about.

Yesterday, I was at a police station helping my daughter deal with her very first ticket. It was for a minor infraction, thankfully. At the station, there were several people gathered for job interviews. Some administrative position was open and there must have been 6 people queued up for their chance. One of the guys, a young black man, was sitting outside, waiting. As we left, I asked if he was there for a job interview. He said he was. I smiled and said, "Good luck!" He gave me a big smile and said, "Thanks!" I then told him I'd say a prayer for him, which got another big smile and thanks.

According to the media and the activists, I probably shouldn't have done that. I should have glared at him or walked as far as possible on the other side of the walkway, checking to see if the police were in range if he suddenly attacked me. As I drove away, I could have locked my car doors so he could hear the "CHUNK!" as we left.

Naaahhh. I think I can live my life without advice and help from the news media and the pundits. So can the rest of us. The pleasant interactions I've had with blacks in the last couple of days remind me of the Zimmerman Days of Rage when I was working downtown at Catholic Charities. A few blocks away, black activists were giving speeches and raging away. In our little storefront office, people of all races were laughing and smiling.

This is why I watch sports instead of the news. They don't tell me how I'm supposed to think and feel.
Image source.