Rock Throwing

While I was principal of an elementary school in Fayette County a father told me this story about his family.

The family was black and lived on a country road in an old antebellum house that once had its glory in the Old South. It still had its huge columns reminiscent of days gone by, but it was now just a shell, needing more repair than it was worth. There was a large fenced pasture at the back of the house belonging to a well-to-do farmer who lived on the far side.

The black family was large with about five or six elementary school age children. The farmer who lived on the other side of the pasture had two sons. These two boys would often come across the pasture and throw rocks at the black children just for the sport of it.

The black father went to the farmer and explained what was happening and asked if he would talk with his boys and have them stop the rock throwing. The farmer insisted his boys would never do such a thing.

The boys kept coming over and throwing rocks at the black children.

The father went back to the farmer and explained that the boys were still coming over and throwing rocks at his children. Again the farmer said he was sure his boys would never do such a thing. The black father said in a matter of fact manner, “Well, I’m relieved to hear they are not your sons because I’ve decided to shoot one the next time it happens.”

“You know,” the father told me, “the boys never came back.”