This hit me like a ton of bricks

Hello!

Lars here.

Before I started writing thriller novels, I flew F-16s for the US Air Force. We lived all over the world and were lucky to have a ton of amazing experiences.

Some of those experiences were — and pardon the dramatic tone here — quite life-changing.

Some of them completely altered my beliefs.

Here’s one I’ve been thinking a lot about recently.

First, some background:

It was 2001 in Sumter, South Carolina, which is in the United States of America, where (we are accustomed to hearing it said) people are completely free to pursue the life they dream of living.

It doesn’t matter where one begins in life. If we work hard, we can make a better life for ourselves.

Nothing can stop us, and nothing will stand in our way.

Those were my beliefs in 2001 when I arrived in South Carolina on an assignment in the Air Force. Nothing in my experience so far had challenged those beliefs. I had worked hard and had achieved satisfying successes, so I believed what everyone had said about the Land of Opportunity.

When we arrived in Sumter, I got busy working my tail off in a new and demanding job.

To get out of the house, my wife took a job as an assistant manager in a little mom-and-pop gift shop somewhere along Sumter’s main drag.

The store was owned by a sixty-something white lady who many would have sworn had never harmed a soul in her life.

All the grandmothers from the right side of town did their trinket shopping in this lady’s gift shop, and also had their pictures framed, sweaters monogrammed, overalls embroidered, and scrapbooking needs tended to.

One day, an older black woman walked in the door.

She wore a dress. It was clean and pressed, but worn and out of fashion.

She spoke articulately and politely when she asked wether she might fill out a job application.

The store’s owner produced an application form, and the three women — my wife, the store’s owner, and the job applicant — talked back and forth as the black woman filled in her form with neat, confident strokes.

The black lady spoke of her grandchildren and how fast they were growing up. She spoke of how she wanted to help their parents create more opportunity for them.

The lady said her time was freer now that her husband had passed after a long illness, and she spoke of her desire to contribute again to her grandkids’ lives.

She talked of her long career as a high school teacher, and of all the kids she had helped shepherd through their adolescence.

She smiled and made friendly eye contact as she handed the application to the store’s owner. A lovely store, she said as she left, and she hoped she could be helpful.

What a nice person, the owner said when the black lady had gone.

And then, without so much as a glance at the application, the owner dropped it into the trash can.

My wife’s mouth opened involuntarily.

The sweet, old shopkeeper’s face grew red with shame.

“It’s terrible,” she said. “But no one would come into my store anymore if I hired a black lady.”

This happened in 21st century, in Sumter, South Carolina, which is in the United States of America, the Land of Opportunity, where all that is needed is a simple willingness to work and one can change her circumstances entirely, elevate herself to new heights, provide amply for her own, and transcend her current circumstances, if only she is willing to work for it.

So say we.

But what do I say now?

What can be said about opportunity in light of an experience like that one?

Needless to say, as my wife related this story to me later that night, my understanding of who and what we were as a nation shifted beneath me.

It was the beginning of the end of my ideology, and the birth of a different level of understanding.

A human level, maybe.

These days, my thought is that understanding seems far more useful than ideology.

And I also think that ideology rarely stands up to understanding.

(The irony is not lost on me: maybe this has become my ideology.)

;)

Anyway, thanks for reading this far…

Lars

PS. Not everything I write is quite so serious. I like to have a bit of fun, too. And if you’re in the mood for a thriller, we’re running a special right now at my store. Have a look at store.ljemmerich.com