Love Conquers All

It was a sunny day. I sat towards the front of the class on the right-hand side closest to the entrance door. I learned to sit towards the front when I was young because I couldn't see. My mom finally figured out that I needed glasses when I was 8 or 9 and by then I had developed the habit of sitting up front. It has served me well, I think. I sat near the door because that is where the windows closest to the main sidewalk were located and I could look out. We had the old wooden type desks and the wooden floors. The classroom was in a type of modular structure and not in the main building. I liked the way it smelt -- it had that wood smell to the room and always reminded me of something old -- an antique. You could see the dust motes floating through the air in the shafts of sunlight. Our teacher, Mrs. Carnegie, was a no nonsense type of instructor -- we always got right down to business in math. It was a full class. She worked out the problems on a true black board with chalk not on any fancy white board with eraser markers. I always liked the way the chalk sounded when it struck the board -- not when it scraped but that firm click on the board always had the effect of snapping me to attention. I was a good student. Lenny usually sat right next to me. I don't know if he chose that seat or if it was just the luck of the draw. He was always trying to talk to me before and after class and sometimes during class. He always had me laughing. Everyone loved Lenny and even though he would act out in class (he would be serious too), the teacher loved him as well. It was just fun to be in the same room with him. One day he sat behind me instead of beside me. We were just starting a lesson and the class began laughing. The teacher had asked me a question but I couldn't really see what they were laughing about because I sat at the front of the room but I sensed commotion behind me and turned to find Lenny, who had borrowed someone's glasses, sitting there mimicking me. Although I was horribly embarrassed turning bright red (which is why I think Lenny did such things -- to see me blush) I laughed too. On another occasion he announced to the entire class, "Vandy Hill, I just love you!" "Lenny, that is not appropriate in class. We are here to learn. You keep those types of comments for outside of the class room," Mrs. Carnegie admonished sitting down at her desk. The class did not laugh that day; however, I still blushed furiously. That day Lenny didn't know it, but in pronouncing his love to everyone, he captured my heart. It was such a pure expression and so unexpected. It had such an impact on me that it has had an effect on both of our lives almost 30 years later. I did not know about the Tulsa Race Riot until I was in college or what a magnet school was really all about nor did Lenny. I don't know that it would have really made a difference to me. I applied to Booker T. Washington because of their academic excellence. It wasn't easy being at a half black/half white school. Maybe other people found it to be easy, but I did not. High school is confusing and difficult enough without throwing the race card in there. It would be naive to think that there were not any racial tensions -- there were. I can remember girls knifing each other in the bathroom, and fist fights. Lenny does not remember the racial tensions. Because of what I was dealing with in my personal life, I did not let petty high school issues bother me. I was trying to survive. The difficulty I felt, if I am truthful, had to do with the boys. Not that at that age, boys are not difficult enough. I was a pretty girl, I think, and boys paid me a lot of attention -- black boys and white boys. My parents liked to think of themselves as open-minded and liberal -- and willing to mix with the races -- but really, were they? I cannot remember any black people ever coming over to the house. I think they wanted to be comfortable -- what that really looked like -- in reality -- when their daughter wanted to date black boys -- that became a very scary prospect for them. I didn't know any different. I wasn't raised to see 'color' and did not see what the big deal was -- a boy is a boy is a boy -- correct? But it is not like the black girls liked that too well either -- they had as much if not more issue than my parents. When I looked at Lenny, I saw a boy that loved me and that was funny and bright and fun and handsome. He was in good shape because he played football and was quite popular. That is what I saw. We became good friends -- talking on the phone, visiting each other's homes. He would carry my books and walk me to my next class. He had a girlfriend. And she did not like me. I didn't realize he had a girlfriend until one day at his house she stabbed all four of the tires on my car. I was mortified to have to call my parents to come get me. When I came outside, she was slashing her ice pick at Lenny and at me. Lenny shielded me from her all the way to the car. My parents were terrified -- every horror story coming to life before their eyes. Lenny and I were truly innocent in that -- just simply a boy and a girl that genuinely liked each other. My parents put me away in an institution as a child gone out of control. Of course there is more to the story as you will learn. And by the time I got out, Lenny had graduated and gotten a full ride athletic scholarship to Langston University. Our time had passed, at least for the moment.