I am an old white man . . .

I am an old man (75 years old this year) and still mostly white . . .
in truth, probably as white as genetics might suggest . . .
I continue to have an awareness
and parents (of a sort)
(borh almost certainly dead) who sometimes trusted me
and on occasion may have taught me to live beyond a heritage of sexism and racism.

This is something that I sometimes don't remember with clarity . . .
I do know that it is a message that A and I have attempted (and with some success) to teach
to our own children . . .

My lesson, as I remembered learning it was that
all people --
all people
are equal . . .
That's really the only message . . .

I mostly forget what Winnie & Ralph may have said to us as children
about the possible creation-side of our existence . . .
and it doesn't so much matter if you're standing up . . .
I couldn't sing in tune with or without the piano.

And it wasn't of much use in the short run. . .
nor, necessarily of great use in the longer run as I remember

It may, however unlikely, it may
have helped in a short thereafter of some understanding . . .
or not.

I seem to have my own evolving (over 75 years)
and inconclusive appreciation of the Buddha
as I've come to know his likeness . . .
but who knows the winds of tomorrow . . .
for now, I keep his likeness carved in teak in our main hallway.

It is a blessing of sorts . . .