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“Brown v. Board of Education, 1954: I’m sure you’ve heard of this one. If you live in the South and go to a diverse school, this is why. This was the case that said racial segregation in public schools was unconstitutional. The results: The schools began to mix. What’s really interesting about this case, though, something rarely discussed, is that it’s actually a pretty racist idea. I mean, what it basically suggests is that Black kids need a fair shot, and a fair shot is in White schools. I mean, why weren’t there any White kids integrating into Black schools? The assumption was that Black kids weren’t as intelligent because they weren’t around White kids, as if the mere presence of White kids would make Black kids better. Not. True. A good school is a good school, whether there are White people there or not. Oh, and of course people were pissed about this.”

“But "integrity." That ain't even made up of no other words accept for "in" and "grit," but but that don't make no sense. "Dad." I nuged him He was sitting right next to me, making sure Whit and Mr. Torrie knew what they were doing, even though there's a counselor person talking to them too. He didn't answer, so I nudged him again. "Dad." "Yeah?" He turned to me. "What's integrity?" "Huh?" "What's integrity?" I reapeted. "It's like, um, how do I explain it?" Now he turned his whole body to face me. "It's like the good part of you that..." He stopped, tried to gather his thoughts. "You know that gold medal I just gave back to Otis?" "Yeah." "See how the gold didn't change? Didn't turn any other color?" "Yeah." "See how it was still heavy after all those years, and how it didn't bend or start to disintegrate?" "Yep." "Well, think of integrity as the gold medal... inside you.”

“Yeah?" He turned to me. "What's integrity?" "Huh?" "What's integrity?" I reapeted. "It's like, um, how do I explain it?" Now he turned his whole body to face me. "It's like the good part of you that..." He stopped, tried to gather his thoughts. "You know that gold medal I just gave back to Otis?" "Yeah." "See how the gold didn't change? Didn't turn any other color?" "Yeah." "See how it was still heavy after all those years, and how it didn't bend or start to disintegrate?" "Yep." "Well, think of integrity as the gold medal... inside you.”

“Well, I'm sorry you couldn't make it either. I'm sorry I had to sit there in that church--which, by the way, had a broken air conditioner--sweating, watching all those people march down the aisle to look in my mother's casket and whisper to themselves all this mess about how much she looked like herself, even though she didn't. I'm sorry you weren't there to hear the lame choir drag out, song after song. I'm sorry you weren't there to see my dad try his best to be upbeat, cracking bad jokes in his speech, choking on his words. I'm sorry you weren't there to watch me totally lose it and explode into tears. I'm sorry you weren't there for me, but it doesn't matter, because even if you were, you wouldn't be able to feel what I feel. Nobody can. Even the preacher said so.”