Tim Knowles
Aug 8, 2017 · 2 min read

Your words here are not a weapon, more an invitation. At least that is how they strike me, an invitation to share. I have been gone from home long enough that it does not feel like home anymore. I am now a stranger in a strange land where ever I go. A Yankee in the South, a New Englander in California, a “man of the world” in my little rural home town.

Decades ago before my family was grown we went on vacation in Atlanta. Our car broke down between Great Stone Mountain and Six Flags. We coasted to a stop in the parking lot of the Stay Here, Walk to Six Flags Hotel. No, Joke. What a dump. Walk to Six Flags we did. We also walked to the subway (MARTA) I think it was called. Me, my Wife and my two stepdaughters, we got on the subway to go to Under Ground Atlanta, we were the only White people I could see on the train. It felt strange, I had never been the only White person in a crowd. I was too self-conscious to notice if our presence made the mood on the car change. I expect that it was not strange to the people on the train, probably happens often enough to be unremarkable.

I don’t know if I have a point, I just felt invited to share. My empathy is limited by my experiences but this one event does inform my empathy some. We tried to raise our daughters to be less racist than their grandfather and us. I might suggest “it is not all about Race but it is never not about Race.”

TEK

    Tim Knowles

    Written by

    Worked in our nations space programs for more than 35 years