Black Americans Owe Donald Trump a Great Deal of Gratitude

 Black Americans Owe Donald Trump a Great Deal of Gratitude

By  Mike Craft

    When history looks back at the one term of the 45th President, he will be celebrated by more people than you could imagine. Black folks young and old will look in reverence at the man who woke us up.

    It seems that after Barak Obama's election, we patted ourselves on the back and said "Let the brother man handle this." At the same time, the "alt's" kicked it in to high gear. That monster gain was followed by a thousand paper cuts that bled our advancements dry. During the height of the black lives matter protest across the country, I told my football players if they were looking for someone to blame -- to blame me.

    I wanted to fall on the sword because, I had laid mine down after it looked like we had finally crossed the finish line in 2008. Instead, I figured that the only thing left to do was sit back and watch my 401k grow.

    Now, in my own defense I wasn't totally idle. I volunteered at my children's schools. Then there was the time, I stepped up to fight a greedy developer whose intentions for our neighborhood were less than honorable.

    However, since then I have been M.I.A. when it comes to truly shaping my community politically.

    As they say, "Life gets in the way."

    Then along comes Trump who entered politics mouth first.  It was laughable when he first starting talking about putting our Hispanic brothers on the other side of a great wall.

    It was a little unsettling when he struck fear into the hearts of Muslim Americans.  I was heart broken to hear about the traumatic impact this was having from my new sister in law's mother, a women with a beautiful spirit. Still I did nothing.

    One by one, Trump pointed out THOSE people to his people and said they are not worthy.
Then he came for me.

    The "dog whisperer" made it loud and clear who the fine people were while at the same time began to attack members of my extended family.  If he came to the hood and trashed talked one of our women folk like he did Maxime Waters...enough said.  In doing so, he lifted the veil of racism and made it plain as day. For that, we owe him thanks.

   I used to hear my elders say the Klan put up their robes a long time ago and put on three piece suits.

    They weren't burning crosses in a field in the back woods, but torching the hopes of our people with roll backs, red lining and other hateful policies.

      Even if they weren't card carrying members, they were doing the white supremacist business by making separate not equal and justice for some.

    Still some of us, benefitted greatly from the advancements won by people like my father in law, former state senator Henry L. Marsh.

    I for one, rested on their laurels while the opposition hammered home messages of reverse discrimination and stripped away many of the programs that gave our people a leg up.

    A true confidant and mentor of mine who happens to be white asked me  - what can be done?
I said, "The next time you get a chance, promote free pre-school for all children. That would be a step in the right direction."  As Frederick Douglas said, "It's easier to build up a child than to fix a broken man."

    I don't want to hear that it's a luxury we can't afford when, at the same time, we spend millions in aid to other countries.

    Please don't confuse this for nationalism.  I believe that we ultimately will be judged by the fruit on the tree. Without a proper educational foundation, our fruit will fall far from the tree and our country's promise will wither and die.

    On election day, I think we as a people finally realized what was a stake.

    It was only fitting that the folks from cities like Philadelphia and Atlanta made their presence felt.  No doubt the phrase better late -- well actually it was early - than ever comes to mind.

    Mr. Resident for everything you have done to wake us up over the past four years, I offer this advice - "Be a man about it." You don't have to go home but you have to get out of our house.

The Catch of a Lifetime

Today was my 56th birthday. So this afternoon, I decided to cap a quiet day with a little fishing. While heading out the door, I grabbed my prized straw hat that my son, Morgan gave me as a birthday present two years ago.  He bought it for me while we were on a family vacation in Cherokee, NC. It's a quality hat but if you know me, anything my kids give me is worth it's weight in gold.  

Often at Christmas time or on my birthday, I will immediately put on anything they give me and will often wear it with the tags still on it for weeks.  

So you can imagine the sheer terror when a gust of wind  blew it off my head and into Lake Norman.

I hadn't caught a thing and to add insult to injury there set my prized hat bobbing up and down on the water.

The symbolism was almost overwhelming and began to break me as cast after cast I came up empty handed. The frustration started to build. The sun was in my face and  made it hard to see especially when tears began to well up in my eyes. Some might say it's just a hat.

For me, it was a microcosm of parenthood. For most of their lives, I always kept my kids within reach. In the blink of an eye, they have spread out from coast to coast. Begrudgingly, I allow them to pursue their dreams wherever it may lead. To make matters worst, covid has also upended our lives. We had to shelter in different places because of various health concerns. And this year, we had to forgo our annual fourth of July family vacation - a promise I force them to keep.  Through no fault of theirs, you feel like they are drifting away.

No, I wasn't going to let Morgan's birthday gift go that easily. 

There it sat. I was amazed it stayed on top of the water. Thankfully, it landed right side up so there must have been enough air trapped underneath preventing it from sinking into this deep area near our community dock.

After several near misses with my fishing line and lure, I paused and said out loud, "Lord, don't let me loose this hat."

A few cast later, I hooked the back end of the hat and began to reel it in. The now soggy hat was heavier that any fish I had ever caught on the 8 pound test line. To keep from breaking the line, I slowly cranked the handle and ever so carefully lifted it over the rocks that lined the bank.

Sometimes, it seems like families are held together by the thinnest of  threads.  You wonder are you doing all you do to keep them close to you.  Shamefully, in brief moments of doubt, I wonder do they even need me any more?

The good thing about my pity parties is I don't throw them often and the ones I do aren't well attended.  I'll keep making the cast over and over again because as they say anything worth having is worth fighting for.