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.”