Who Will Speak For Me?

A few weeks ago, I visited a local bar just two blocks from home. It was only my second visit to this bar as I'm understandably nervous about sitting in a bar whose parking lot is full of pickup trucks and motorcycles. This is just asking for trouble.

I was surprised to have struck up several good conversations with strangers. I'm usually shy to the point of avoiding social situations, but I had met some nice people and I was actually beginning to feel comfortable.

A man about my age sat down with his wife and we all began talking. I usually break the ice by telling people that I am from Las Vegas and asking where they are from. Everyone seems to have a Vegas story and those who don't are still fascinated to learn that the citizens of Las Vegas don't all work in hotels.

The conversation was getting lively and the man began to tell me that although he and his wife had lived all over the United States, they had recently resettled here in Florida where it turns out he had grown up.

I asked him what it was like to grow up here, as I had only ever lived in large cities. He began to recount tales of childhood memories, spending time with his friends romping in the woods and swimming in the rivers. He went on to say that one of his fondest memories was catching turtles with the other boys down at the river that runs through town. I asked him why they would want to catch turtles, thinking he and his friends might keep them for pets. He said, "Oh, we would sell 'em to the Niggers. They liked to eat 'em."

I was scared and angry and flabbergasted all at the same time. I wanted to say, "Really, what did the fags eat?" But I decided that I had better back slowly away, excuse myself and leave, rather than to start something I would not be able to finish. I haven't been back.

Now I wish I hadn't been too scared to say something. Next time, I will.

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out - because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out - because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out - because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me - and there was no one left to speak for me.

-Martin Niemoller