By David Ramos
Hi, my name is Bob Verywhite. My day started as it typically does, on the subway headed towards my job in Manhattan. Did I mention I sell insurance for H.I.P? That’s a N.Y. based company that offers health insurance coverage to police officers, firefighters, and companies in general. Not an exciting job but it pays well and keeps me out of the office for most of the day.
As is my habit I spend the next 30-45 minute ride from Brooklyn to downtown catching up on the Mets and local stories in the Daily News. The train is crowded, as usual, and seats are at a premium. As we pull into the Marcy Avenue station an attractive African American young lady boards the train. She is tall, with a slim figure and striking almond shaped eyes. She is carrying a briefcase, an umbrella, and a large shoulder bag.
The next thing I know, I do something totally out of character for a native New Yorker. I get the young lady’s attention and offer up my seat. She smiles, accepts, and gets off at the Delancey Street Station the first stop after crossing the East River.
Now mind you, New York is a Mecca for attractive women but I could not get this young lady off my mind. I’d go to Central Park and fantasize about taking her for a ride in one of the famous horse drawn carriages or strolling down Broadway to Times Square and enjoying the sights of the city at night. You idiot, why didn’t you strike up a conversation, ask her how she was doing? Hell, talk about the lousy weather. I think the fact that she was black had something to do with it.
Although I grew up in a “liberal” family none of my siblings or friends had anything other than a professional or totally casual relationship with anyone of color. As any a major urban center New York has a substantial number of black residents. What is amazing is the covert racism that exists in these areas. I can work with you, but dinner is out of the question! Date my sister! Are you crazy my parents would choke! These and other outdated perceptions are very prevalent in N.Y. and other major cities for that matter. You think these ideas would not affect you until you are confronted with the reality of your own racist sentiments.
Well enough moralizing, let’s get on with the story. Three weeks went by and I had just about forgotten about our chance encounter when the heroine of our story shows up at the train stop. This time I was ready for her. As she got on the train I got up to approach her and promptly tripped over a passengers feet, hit my head on one of the holding poles, and blacked out. “Are you OK?” were the first words I heard upon returning to this earth. Thus began my relationship with Ebony Ursewfine.
Not exactly a romantic beginning, but, a beginning nonetheless. Turns out Ebony was a graduate student studying for her Masters in Journalism and worked for Time Magazine as a fashion editor. As I had dabbled somewhat as a freelance writer we had something in common to build on. We started slow, exchanging phone numbers and promising to keep in touch.
When Ebony called me in those early days our conversations would last for hours and encompass everything from politics to music to the day’s events. Ebony had a great sense of humor and her laugh was infectious and always made my day. Eventually there were lunch dates, as my job and her school and office were in close proximity to one another, and soon we started going to the movies together and sharing intimate dinners. Ebony was well acquainted with the myriad of eateries in Greenwich Village as she frequented them with girlfriends after school and work.
Many of these places featured live music and we enjoyed Jazz and the live poetry offered. I remember our first kiss soon afterwards. It was sweet and short and I was hooked. In steps our first problem in the form of my “best friend” Dana Isenass. Dana though it was so cool that I was dating a black girl and promised not to tell anybody. “It’s cool bro’ maybe once you’re done I can take over”. I should have hit him but realized he was only living up to his last name.
His was not the only negative opinions we encountered they came from other so-called friends and family on both sides. Ebony’s girlfriends told her that dating a white guy was totally wrong and quickly added, “by the way does he have a brother?” These negative comments just seemed to draw us closer together and more determined to make our relationship work. As our relationship blossomed I decided it was time for Ebony to meet the Verywhites up close and personal. To my surprise Mom and Dad genuinely welcomed Ebony and at the end of the evening commented that it was about time “I had brought someone home with brains as well as beauty”.
Next it was my turn to meet the Ursewfines’. Mr. Ursewfine was a retired military officer and Mrs. Ursewfine ran a home based business. They were both native New Yorkers and had met and grown up in Bedford Stuyvesant, a predominantly black neighborhood in Brooklyn. Dinner at Ebony’s parent’s home was a cold affair. Not much conversation and an all around feeling of relief when it was over.
The next day Ebony was noticeably upset about the prior evening’s events. “My dad was furious; he called you a white-bread honky just trying to get over his “Jungle Fever! Mom wasn’t much help either. “Couldn’t you find a nice black boy to bring home why a white boy?” I didn’t know how to react. To be totally honest these were the reactions I had expected from my parents rather than Ebony’s. In my naive, unbeknownst to me, prejudice idealism, I thought the Ursewfines would be delighted that a white person would show an interest in their daughter. Race Relations 101: Some black folks have a real problem with perceptions of who they are and what’s best for their children. Remember these decisions were denied black people for over 400 years and the bitter memories engendered from that era are not easily erased.
When I shared my thoughts with Ebony she totally freaked out and I didn’t hear from her for days. After not answering my numerous calls I decided to go to her apartment and find out what was up. Ebony was not happy to see me and I didn’t think she would let me in. She finally relented and we began to talk. “How could you be so cruel and insensitive? You are not God’s gift sent to rescue the poor little black girl from the clutches of the ghetto!” All I could do was continue to say that I was sorry and that if I got another chance I would make it up to her. I was very much in love with Ebony and wanted the relationship to continue. Ebony eventually forgave me and we picked up where we had left off, with both of a little wiser for the experience.
Fast forward 30 years. As we celebrate our years together with our three children and our first grandchild. Mr. Uresewfine, now is his late 70s is still pissed off at us. On the other hand, Mrs. Ursewfine has softened and is thrilled about becoming a great-grandmother.
My mom passed a couple of years ago and dad spends most of his time fishing out of Sheepshead Bay and loves coming over so we can cook the catch. It’s been a great life
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