Soul Of Louisville Speaks

No wonder race and politics lead to uncomfortable discussions. Both are touchy subjects. Both evoke strong, emotional feelings; and both share dark and shameful histories. It, therefore, stands to reason that race meeting politics could potentially be a recipe for disaster.

Despite the attempts of some to walk on egg shells through a presidential race that, at least in the beginning, attempted to keep the main thing the main thing, fear and ignorance inevitably caused the “race card” to raise its ugly head. People can say whatever they want about how progressive our society has become. The numbers have spoken. They are saying we may have come a long way, but we still have a long way to go.

Just when the smoke was beginning to clear on the controversy around Barack Obama’s former pastor, Rev. Jeremiah Wright, the voice of rural Kentucky has chosen to fan the flames again. It was no surprise that Hillary Clinton would win the state of Kentucky in the primaries. The stunner was finding out why. Twenty-one percent blatantly admitted race played a part in their voting decision. As a Kentucky resident, that statistic embarrassed me.

It is not like an African American (or woman for that matter) never ran for president. Shirley Chisholm ran in 1972, Jesse Jackson ran in 1984, and Alfred C. “Al” Sharpton ran in 2004. It is the first time such a candidate has gotten this far. The two remaining democratic nominees will share a moment in history for attempting to change the face of American’s highest office if for nothing else.

In the urban part of Louisville where I live signs of racism are harder to see. A sufficient number of integrated families, business relationships, and friendships clearly indicate that not everyone shares the sentiments of the rural in this state. The polls reported that ninety percent of Jefferson County actually voted for Obama. Again the numbers are telling the story.

Americans know this mindset is deeply embedded in our country’s history. Whoever tries to deny this is simply not being honest. Anyone can see that we are trying to move away from it. Yet, divisive instances like this have me wondering if racism will ever completely go away.

I have learned that no one can change the mind of another. People change when they are ready to change. The solution continues to lie in the eloquent words of the apostle Paul when he said, but the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance; against such there is no law. To bring love to the world, we must continue to show others what it looks like. I will admit it is the high and perhaps longest road, but in the end will also prove to be the lasting and most effective one.

I have never been to the Derby. Like many other locals, I have found the activities that surround the event exciting enough. During the two weeks leading up to the big day there is an event for everyone. But who in the area doesn’t love to be part of the speculation.

The last time I had a hunch about a Derby horse which proved to be right was when Strike the Gold took home the coveted rose garnet in 1991. I didn’t place a bet, though I wish I had. I did, however, manage to pull his name from a party drawing, which made me feel somewhat part of his victory.

This year it was my mother who had the hunch. I had been too busy working to pay attention to the usual Derby chatter and had given the ordeal no thought until I heard that this year’s favorite, a horse given the nickname of my employer’s competition (Big Brown), had a braggadocios owner who was said to have quoted Muhammad Ali by saying, “If you can do it, it ain’t bragging.” What a Louisville connection, I thought. Muhammad Ali is from Louisville. UPS’s hub is in Louisville. And Louisville is the home of the Kentucky Derby, the fastest two minutes in sports. That got my attention.

And there was another horse. Her name was Eight Belles. She was a filly in a colt’s race, and was believed to be a worthy competitor. It so-happened Hillary Clinton was courting Indiana around the time her name came up. She identified; even made Eight Belles part of her campaign speech by encouraging prospective voters to “put their money on the filly.” Now, I’m not in the Hillary Clinton camp, but even I was reserving hope for the female runner. Once again I was tempted to follow the hunch. This time I was considering a win, place, or show. But, for the second time, I didn’t follow through.

The race did not disappoint. Big Brown maintained a cool stride from the worse lane in the race (lane twenty on the outside) until he reached the stretch, where he performed a cool “walk down” on each of his competitors and won by a sizable lead. Eight Belles, who appeared for a while to have a chance at first, gave everything she had, which won her a non-contested second. It was a very impressive effort. It just wasn’t enough. Once again, I regretted not acting on my hunch, well, my mother’s hunch. (Not really. I’m cool.)

My first thought was to count my would-be winnings. My second thought went briefly to politics. Both thoughts were interrupted when Eight Belles took a fall shortly after crossing the finish line. The tragedy would not take away the excitement of Big Brown’s win right away. Never-the-less, the news that Eight Belles had been euthanized due to ankle brakes in both legs would ultimately put a damper on the day. It would turn out to be a day of joy and pain, with Big Brown going on as the undefeated contender and Eight Belles remembered for her courageous blaze of glory.