I DON'T LIKE AL

I had almost finished my coconut-pineapple cake when Al pulled his electric wheelchair up opposite me.  I usually enjoy my companions at the big round table where I eat lunch every day     But I don’t like Al. 

Al was born in Dallas and has spent all his 82 years here, except for a couple of years in the Merchant Marine towards the end of World War II.  He was born into a segregated society.  Poor white folks had nothing to brag about but their race.  Most matured and learned to accept black people as equals.  Unfortunately, there are bad people among all ethnic groups.  Such is Al.  

Al is a foul-mouthed, racist, ignorant braggart.  

Al often brags about how he “fought to defend our country.”  He was to be paid $1,000 a day to be on a ship which delivered ammunition.  A dangerous situation, granted, but nothing to compare with the dangers of Marines who faced Japanese machine guns on islands in the Pacific or infantrymen in Bastogne (sp?) who were shelled by the Germans during the Battle of the Bulge.  I knew men who were in both places, and they were not paid $1,000 a day.  

I’ve known many veterans, including survivors of the Bataan Death March who suffered years of cruel imprisonment in Japan.  Others who were wounded combat veterans.  None bragged about their service the way Al does. 

Al is in a wheelchair now.  He has multiple ailments.  He admits he drove his car like a demon and led a reckless life.  Once a tractor turned over on top of him.  He claims his back was injured during a Japanese Kamikaze attack in World War II.  It did not sink his ship.  Al repeatedly voices his hatred of the Japanese and all other Asians.

I also knew a man who was on a landing craft when a Kamikaze sank the ship next to his and the concussion threw him down below decks.  Carl DiPilato suffered from his back for the rest of his life.  I never heard Carl express any hatred for the Japanese. 

Once I asked a Taos Indian who was on the Bataan Death March how he felt about the Japanese.  He said calmly, “That was their culture.”   If there is anyone who should resent mistreatment by people of a different culture, it is the American Indians. 

In New Mexico I knew several Pueblo Indians, some quite well.  They all accepted our American culture.  People who go to the Federal Court in Albuquerque never guess that the fashionably dressed chief clerk is a Cochiti Indian.  I went to Cochiti Pueblo with her grandfather and saw men and women in traditional dress come out of the kiva to dance for the rain gods to produce summer showers.  They don’t permit photos of their sacred ceremonies, but in their homes I saw photos of sons serving in the U.S. Military.  As my Cochiti friend said, “What other country do we have?” 

Al hates everyone who is not white.  He hates blacks, Mexicans, Japanese, and other Asians.  He uses foul, abusive language to tell us how he feels.  Even quiet Mariam, who never complains about anything, told him, “We don’t appreciate that kind of language.”

Al said, “I’m an American.  We have freedom of speech in this country.  I’ll say anything I want to say.”

I can’t do anything about Al.  Except finish my cake as quickly and quietly as possible and get up and leave the table.