Hate Has No Home Here

    I have a friend, let’s call him Leroy--mainly because that is his name. Leroy and I went to church and school together in my little hometown in Florida. Even as a kid I knew that he was what you call a “really good person.” Mr. Bigsby, Leroy’s dad, had the same aura of happiness, kindness and a ready smile. Mr. Bigsby passed away recently. I never got to tell him how much I appreciated him. I picture him down at the baseball diamonds dropping balls into the pitching machine for hours, laughing at our knuckleheaded ways. 

   I left Fort Meade for college in Alabama and then was off to the Air Force and finally touched down in California. I’ve only seen Leroy at a couple of reunions, but I feel like I know him as well as I did in 1981 when we were big fish seniors in that tiny pond of a high school.

Leroy Bigsby on the Peace River (of course)

    Everyone understands that you can’t really know someone from their Facebook timeline. After not seeing or hearing from most of my hometown for the ’80s, ’90s and far into the ’00s--all of a sudden Facebook reintroduced us. There was Leroy- smiling and loving life. Same guy. I hate to embarrass him, but the words honest, trustworthy, and decent just come easy when you think about him. 

    I saw a post a couple of days ago from Leroy and he was upset, no--he was angry, about what happened to a friend of his who lives just a little north of our beloved hometown. I don't remember ever seeing Leroy angry.

     A guy casually walked up to Leroy’s friend’s house, (all on security video) stole her yard sign and laughed as he placed it in his car and left. The sign wasn’t promoting a politician. It wasn’t a sign that advanced one political party or attacked another. It was a sign that had the audacity to read: “Hate Has No Home Here.”

Hate Has No Home 

    

     I went to Sunday School—a lot-- in my little town.  Hate was a bad word. The man that stole that sign feels threatened that hate doesn’t have a home at the address where he stole the sign. Or in Polk County. Or in these United States. Why does hate need defending? Who are you defending when you are defending hate?

     There are nice and kind people all around us. There are also mean and vindictive people. Most of us want to be kind. Most of us occasionally fail at this but apologize and try to be better people. I bet Leroy isn’t as perfect as my nostalgia makes him. But I can guarantee you that Leroy is on the side of good and fair. People like Leroy don’t promote hate. They don’t tolerate hate. They don’t ignore hate even if it helps them in some way.

   

    I haven’t been in a Sunday School class since Reagan’s first term. But I retained all the good stuff I learned in my classes during the Nixon and Ford years. Love your neighbor. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Be ye kind to one another. What about “strangers”—love them as thyself.  Is this stuff now considered “old-time religion?” Can you just place it on hold for a few years?

Nope. There are not "good people on both sides."  Choose.

     We need the Leroys of this country to be even more Leroy. We need to outnumber, outshine and sometimes out-shout the hate, the intolerance, the bigotry that has been fueled from the very top. We need more compassion. We need unity. We need healing. There are not always good people on both sides. We simply need to be more Leroy.