I can remember another time when Dad and I went to lunch at Wimpy’s. Wimpy’s was one of those hole in the wall kind of establishments that served the basic hot dogs and hamburgers. It was found on the south side of Lansing in a predominately African-American neighborhood.
When we entered this one particular day, the first thing I noticed was that we were the only white folk there. No one stared or probably even noticed, but I was uncomfortable.
After we got back in the car, I asked Dad if he had noticed we were the only white folk present. He answered with the question, “Did that make you feel uncomfortable?”
Pausing for a just moment, I decided to answer honestly, “yes, in a way, I guess it did.”
“That’s prejudice
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