When I helped establish the hometown hero award ceremony several years ago, I looked forward to honoring some of Hancock County’s finest. And every 9/11 since, we’ve done just that, awarding Law Enforcement Officer of the Year to those who protect our communities with selflessness, compassion and professionalism.
So why was I recently standing on the courthouse lawn with 200 fellow citizens, peacefully supporting Black Lives Matter, a movement some suggest is anti-police?
I grew up in Birmingham in the 1960s and ‘70’s. I have seen a little racism in my time.
I’ve also authored a book on the Confederacy, was a Confederate Civil War reenactor, and flew a Confederate flag from the turret of my M60 tank roaring through Germany in the 1980s, none of which I took to be racist.
My tank, however, was driven by a young black man from the Projects in Tuscaloosa. He lived right across the street from my college apartment complex, filled with white kids of privilege. I had no idea that much of what I did was offensive to him. I was ignorant of my actions’ effect on him. Again, I did not think of myself as racist. But as I look back at the opportunities, the life my whiteness gave me, versus the life his blackness handed him, I have deep regrets that I was not more sensitive to him. I viewed him as my brother soldier, but did he return the feeling? I cannot say.
My latest novel’s inspiration was African-American soldiers in the Civil War. Over 200,000 fought for the Union. It was heartbreaking. It opened my eyes. Their treatment after the war as Reconstruction failed miserably and they were literally hunted down across the south for their service will make your skin crawl. One black sergeant in Kentucky, a leader of men and respected in the community, was hounded out of town, castrated and tortured, and eventually hanged from a bridge only two hours south of us in Greenfield.
The most famous lynching photo in America is from Marion, Indiana. Only sixty years ago, on the same spot where we stood for the rights and safety of our fellow Americans with dark skin, the Ku Klux Klan marched down the National Road.
Which brings me to our amazing police officers and their leaders. They stand on the knife edge every day. They sit on the powder keg of race relations in America. They serve and protect, yet daily may face situations where their actions could result in an Officer Chauvin moment. The stress they must be under must be incredible.
And our black neighbors suffer the same strain. Greenfield-Central teacher Jeremy JT Turner related teaching an outdoor class of students and having a driver shout the n-word at him as he drove by IN OUR TOWN! Hearing his frightening stories of being brutalized and targeted by police (not from our county, luckily) on multiple occasions made me weep for his experience of America.
It happens because racism still lives in us, even though we choose to not see it. Most of us do not have to face it. But our police officers do. That means that more than anyone in our community, they must be the solution.
From what I saw last week, I believe they are up to the task. I spoke with many of them, including Sheriff Brad Burkhart and Chief Jeff Rasche of the Greenfield Police Department. I believe they are fine men and will lead their officers with integrity. As Fortville’s Chief Bill Knauer said, inspiringly, in a social media post that was published in the Daily Reporter, “My officers would have thrown Officer Chauvin on his ass!” I believe that of our officers.
We as citizens must give them inspiration and encouragement to strive to that high road.
There is a long way to go. As I left the peaceful march, I passed a pickup truck racing its engine with a confederate flag defiantly flying from the back. Message? You tell me. I know what it meant because I was that man 30 years ago.
The first night of the “protest,” I was like you all: I saw the looting and rioting, and I paid attention to the defacing of our monuments. I posted myself at the entrance to our Veterans Park. That was not going to happen on my watch.
Quickly, I realized that I had nothing to fear other than my own prejudices. But I was fortunate to witness a wonderful vignette that inspires me as I write. Two men, one black, one white, both big men, met at the entrance to the park. They knew each other and had had an argument on social media that very day. But when they saw each other, the animosity melted. I am sure each would have fought to protect the other. Face to face they were human beings. Neighbors. Friends.
When we get to know each other and take the time to understand each other, good things happen. Take that time. Look inside. Peel away the jingoism, the blustering, the pre-conceived judgments and view people, not groups, and we will be better.
That is how we support our police. Let us all be better. Let us hold all ourselves to a higher standard. Let us be Americans together.
Kurt Vetters is a writer and author in Greenfield. He is active in veterans affairs in Hancock County. Send comments to dr-editorial@greenfield reporter.com.
