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A Drabble is a concise 100-word story that respects your busy schedule. Please stay on the page for 30 seconds so your read will count, and I won’t come back to haunt you.

Today’s random word is nook.

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His book nook — that’s what he calls this spot.

Is this where it happened?

I was surprised. He gets up at 4 am and is always in bed by 8:30.

Tell me exactly what transpired.

We’d just finished Fargo’s Season Five, Episode Nine. It was 8:45. He said: We’ve got to watch the last episode.

I was shocked.

How did he look?

Committed.

So, what did he do when Fargo was over?

This is what’s so strange. He pulled the nook light cord. I didn’t think it even had a bulb.

Did you find him here this morning?

Sound asleep.

A white man’s reflection on the O.J. Simpson murder acquittal 29 years later.

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RAGE

When I was a kid in the 1950s, my parents and three brothers would have dinner on Sundays at Dad’s parents’ farm in Tipton, Iowa. Occasionally, Uncle Jim would use the N-word, but its wrongness did not colonize my innocence until years later in college when I read James Baldwin. Baldwin wrote this line, and it has stuck with me.

To be a Negro in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a rage almost all the time.

This rage accumulates from

The millions of details 24 hours spell out that some lives matter more than others.

Baldwin taught me that in America, race always matters. And that nothing about race was simple.

I taught politics to college students for 40 years and retired in 2018, so I’m conditioned to think, even in retirement, about how best to understand my country — what films to watch and essays to read.

When O.J. Simpson died last week, I set aside 467 minutes to view the 2016 documentary O.J.: Made in America. It’s available on Netflix and worth every minute.

I also sought articles by African-American men and women. Two of the best are John McWhorter’s, If O.J.’s Trial Happened Today, and Emmanuel Felton and Rachel Hatzipano’s, What O.J. Simpson Meant to Black America.

PAIN

I’m a 74-year-old white man born two years after Simpson.

This image from the film represents how I and most whites felt in 1995 when he was acquitted of the murder of his ex-wife, Nicole Brown Simpson, and her friend Ronald Goldman. (In 1997, a civil trial jury would hold Simpson responsible for their deaths)

Most blacks felt differently.

John McWhorter explained in retrospect.

The evidence of Simpson’s deed was overwhelming despite the ineptitude of the prosecution team. The verdict and the response to it among the Black community wasn’t a sign of support for Simpson; it was a protest against a long legacy of mistreatment and even murder at the hands of the police.

The film reminded us of the 1991 beating of Rodney King by four police officers and another acquittal.

With this image of pain.

AMERICA IN BLACK AND WHITE

My Uncle Jim was not an evil man. He volunteered to coach my brother’s Little League team, where he treated Pat’s African-American teammates kindly, as he did all the kids. He was no better or worse than most white Americans in the mid-20th century. But not all. Photos of civil rights marches always showed whites among the crowd. (source)

Thirty years after those Sunday dinners, Jim had a fatal encounter with a different sickness: brain cancer.

It became too much.

The end that broke my father’s heart came behind the barn on his parents’ farm.

Pain and rage.

America is not unique: Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland, Israelis and Palestinians, Sunnis and Shia, Tutsi and Hutu. Across time and space, the list is endless. Even God has lost count.

Pain and rage.

I was numb by the 467th minute of O.J.: Made in America.

How do I make sense of this human propensity to divide and destroy?

And then be blind to the consequences?

Back to Baldwin:

Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.

Of course, O.J. did it. Of course, that predominately African-American jury in 1995 found him innocent because America was 400 years guilty.

Of course, people rioted after Rodney King.

And the murder of George Floyd.

The murderous means of Hamas, the IRA, and the Hutu militias came from grievances shared by many who did not accept their terrorist means.

Today, what is the tragedy of Israel/Palestine but the reality of two victim peoples sharing the same tiny, blood-drenched piece of land?

Pain and rage.

AND HOPE

Today, most Americans, black and white, believe African Americans are treated less fairly by the police than white Americans. (source)

This morning, when I think about the Brown-Simpson and Goldman jury’s murder acquittal after only four hours of deliberation, it makes perfect sense to me.

O.J. may be guilty, but America is not innocent.

Justice is complicated.

Perhaps we can control people, but we can’t control their pain.

The evidence of this is everywhere.

In our families, communities, and country.

Inside each of us, whether black or white.

We’ve all been teenagers.

So when you look in the mirror, ask yourself:

Who do you see?

And who don’t you see?

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*Today, America is racially and ethnically diverse. It is more than black and white. The current figures are White: 59%; Hispanic & Latino: 19%; Black 12.6%; Asian 5.9%; two or more races: 2.3%.

Thanks to the careful editing of Malky McEwan for Medium’s Entertain, Empower, and Enlighten.

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Today’s random word is urine

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A Drabble is a concise 100-word story that respects your busy schedule. Please stay on the page for 30 seconds so your read will count, and you won’t be among the guilty ones.

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You’re in.

This is it.

What I’ve been working toward all my life.

It was my dad’s dream.

I made it mine.

Mom took me to practice every day when I was a kid.

They said I was too small.

And not fast enough.

Here I am, about to step on the sacred dirt in my hometown.

In front of family and friends.

And Kathy. Who’s believed in me since high school.

Field of Dreams.

I won’t screw this up.

I’m ready.

“Willie, did you hear me? Go in and take the urine test. And you’ll be batting seventh today.”

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This story was written for Six-Word Story Challenge.

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What will fill up your year?

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I love April in Iowa.

Nature’s Time-Machine.

Walking through the woods, we’re prompted to look ahead.

To what we’d like to do this coming year.

And recall what we regretted not doing this past year.

Then imagine, for a moment, how we might feel next April after fulfilling what today is only potential.

The random word for today is unusual.

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A Drabble is a precise 100-word story. This Drabble was written for Fiction Shorts.

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Jim woke up feeling confident.

Unusual.

His mother said good morning to him for the first time in a week and added:

“I’ll pick you up from basketball practice.”

On the bus to school, when he looked at Mary, she met his eyes and smiled.

John asked him for his algebra homework, and Jerry laughed at his joke.

In history class, the minute hand moved every time he blinked.

While waiting in line for lunch along corridor C, Jim saw Joe and Tom pushing Bill’s wheelchair away from the boy’s room. He grabbed Jerry and John and led the charge.

Today’s random word is ruin.

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A Drabble is a work of fiction of precisely 100 words. This Drabble was written for Fiction Shorts.

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Act One: The Office of Kendra White, Marriage Counselor (She, They)

Mrs. Red and Mr. Blue are sitting silently, staring forward.

White enters.

Mrs. Red begins speaking.

“Blue and I agree. Our union is in tatters.”

Blue: “In ruin.”

White: “Let’s begin with our preferred pronouns.”

Blue: “He.”

Red: “She, of course. Should we refer to you as they?”

White: “She is fine. Let’s start with each of you turning toward your partner to ask the first question that comes to mind.”

Red: “Why have you stopped going to church?”

Blue: “Why don’t you like our new neighbors, the Rodriquez’s?”

I did yesterday. It may become a habit.

*

Not often enough.

I’ll wager.

Sorry, I hope I haven’t offended you.

I’ve been doing that lately.

For example, I insulted a friend during an argument yesterday.

I called him a name.

It wasn’t a terrible name, not one of those 21st-century unacceptable names.

That my uncle used in the 1950s.

But I stamped a label on his forehead.

It was a standard 21st-century label.

Racist.

I could see the hurt in his eyes.

Hear the wound in his voice.

At first, I tried to clarify.

I didn’t mean you were a racist, only that you support a racist.

I knew the damage had been done.

Upon reflection, it’s possible to be right and wrong.

There are racists.

But guilt by association is a bridge too far.

Today, this word has become an epithet.

Like antisemite.

Progress.

However, hurtling labels at people is like painting with a broad brush.

Sloppy.

Using a cannon when a scalpel would do.

So, instead of writing words on the board, I apologized to my friend.

It felt so good.

I’ll try it on someone else today.

A conversation was overheard.

Today’s random word is tremble.

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A Drabble is a concise 100-word story that respects your busy schedule. Please stay on the page for 30 seconds so your read will count. This Drabble is written for Fiction Shorts.

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The Trembles?

Nah, that doesn’t sound right.

The Tomatoes?

Have you ever heard of a group named after a fruit?

A tomato is a vegetable. Look, here comes Sharon — name tags help.

Bingo. The other song was Here Comes My Baby. Who sang Silence is Golden and Here Comes My Baby? Let’s ask Sharon.

Maybe that’s not a good idea. Her law firm sued the school district for not spending enough money on girls’ sports.

Sharon, hi, Bob and Paul. We were on the Spaghetti dinner committee together. We can’t remember who sang Here Comes My Baby?

The Tremeloes, Boys!

Burdened by guilt.

Today’s random word is brook.

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A Drabble is a concise 100-word story that respects your busy schedule. Please stay on the page for 30 seconds so your read will count, and you won’t feel guilty. This Drabble is written for Fiction Shorts.

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Fish: You’re not from around here.

Man: I saw the brook from the bridge.

Fish: So, are you lost?

Man: I’m late for work, and my wife’s mad at me. I also need to mow the grass and call my mother, and it’s all becoming too much.

Fish: I’ve heard about guilt but don’t know it.

Man: Can I give mine to you? One tiny moment. I promise I’ll take it back.

Fish: Fin to finger for 60 seconds.

Man: Scout’s honor.

One minute lapses.

Fish: Hey, where are you floating off to?

Man: I don’t know.

Fish: I’m sorry.

Today’s random word is among.

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A Drabble is a concise 100-word story that respects your busy schedule. Please stay on the page for 30 seconds so your read will count, and you won’t be among the guilty ones. This Drabble was written for Fiction Shorts.

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Painting: Are you judging me?

Viewer: I’m not. Or any of your friends.

What are you thinking?

Why do the men have their clothes on, and you and your friend don’t?

I’m an exhibitionist.

What do you mean?

I’ve nothing to hide, especially among friends and nature.

On the wall opposite you is a naked painting of Adam and Eve before they ate the apple. Like you, there is no shame in their eyes.

God was wrong to make us ashamed of our bodies.

Are the men with you embarrassed by their bodies?

They weren’t just a few minutes ago.