I have to tell this story. . .
Years ago, back in about 1969, I used to play golf a lot with a group of guys, several of whom happened to be black. One day after we finished, my friend Howard Jackson found his car wouldn't start, so I gave him a ride home.  
On the way, he wanted to stop and get a beer at a little neighborhood bar near his home.  He opened the door and let me walk in first.  It was like that old commercial where there is a general noise level, everyone talking, having fun.  When I walked in there was instantly dead silence.  Apparently there had never been a white guy in there before.  My friend shut the door and quietly said, "He's good" and everything instantly returned to normal!  After that I was always welcome there.  As always, it's who you know!  

My friends, times were different back then, especially in a small South Arkansas town, but I believe people are the same inside.  The hard part sometimes is getting past pre-conceived expectations.  I was blessed to be taught by my parents to treat every person as an individual.  Heck I was raised on an Indian reservation and married a Cajun so I'm pretty much comfortable anywhere!  
