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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/heartburn/day/4-23-2019
Rated: 13+ · Book · Family · #2058371
Musings on anything.
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My blog was filled up. I'm too lazy to clean it out. So I started a new one.
April 23, 2019 at 6:00pm
April 23, 2019 at 6:00pm
#957368
Prompt: I remember an evening in April when ...
Finish this sentence and describe the evening and what happened.


         I remember an evening in April long ago during the week as the band rehearsed for an upcoming concert. It was an anniversary, so the regular high school band had dismissed, but the returning alumni were having their own rehearsal. As an officer, I had hung around for various tasks. As our beloved conductor worked with the adults, it was turning dark outside. The temperature was up in more ways than just the local weather.

         It was not the best of times in our small town - university community. Racial tensions ran high. The schools had been integrated for some time, but the last of the segregated schools was finally closed. Rumors ran strong. That whole year had been unsettling. Outside wandering groups of young black males discovered an unlocked entrance into the building. I was going down the stairs in our private entrance as a mob was starting up. Cherry Pie, one of the head rebels and a legend in his own time, was in the group. One of the band members, Benny, a quiet, laid-back black senior managed to step up in front and turned around to them, signaling to stop and listen.

         I turned and ran to get an adult to help. Inside the rehearsal room, they continued seriously, ignoring my presence. I was anxious, but I didn't have the courage to nab anyone or interrupt the group, so I retreated after a few minutes back into the stairwell. There I found Benny still talking them down. I don't recall all I heard, but he convinced them, it wasn't worthwhile to go further. I had heard lots of rumors, so I was concerned about destruction of expensive equipment and the confrontation of young men with middle-aged and older people, predominantly white.

         It turned into nothing. A fire that burned itself out. No one upstairs ever knew what had happened, or almost happened. I was the only white person in that stairwell or doorway, and that crowd didn't care any more than the crowd upstairs making beautiful music.


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/heartburn/day/4-23-2019