A perennial rite of road trips is the impatient child in the back seat asking, “Are we there yet?” So eager is she to get to a destination that, for her, it is more of an idea than an actual place. For centuries, America, burdened by the baggage of suspicion and stereotype, has been on a road trip toward racial reconciliation. Long and difficult, this journey has gone through locales that include Jamestown, Philadelphia, Gettysburg, Chicago, Montgomery, Birmingham, Selma, Boston and Washington, D.C. It has had drivers, some with a clearer sense of direction than others, who struggled with what routes to take; drivers named Jefferson, Lincoln, Douglass, Sojourner Truth, MLK and LBJ. And because every trip needs a good book, especially one which attempts to explain where it is that you're going, there have been chroniclers such as Harriet Beecher Stowe, William Faulkner, Ralph Ellison, John Howard Griffin, James Baldwin and Toni Morrison. And after all these years, all these places, drivers and books, we glance out the window of the passing social landscape, measure the distance traveled and how much longer we need to go, and we not only ask, “Are we there yet?” but, “Will we ever get there?” The journey could never be anything but a bumpy one, filled with detours and roadblocks. But whenever we see an avenue that may make it easier to travel, we should try to take it. Once a year, it seems, we hit cultural checkpoints where somebody says or does something racial and controversial that causes pundits, academics and social scientists to declare that it's time for a national conversation on race. The conversation lasts for a few paragraphs, drifts off into other topics and is forgotten until the next time someone says something racial and controversial. This year's presidential campaign has brought us to one of these checkpoints, and such moments are valuable if used correctly. We're obsessed with race, yet uncomfortable with talking candidly about race. We are a nation of shadow-boxers, sparring with images and reflections and avoiding contact with what is real. One way to engage with something real and substantive is to talk with those whose differences make us uncomfortable. And while a “national conversation” is fine, the best and potentially most fruitful conversations are those between individuals over the back fence, at work, during lunch, over beers at a bar or on softball fields and in bowling alleys. These should be conversations that are unflinchingly honest but fueled more by reflection than recriminations; conversations between open minds that acknowledge each other's pain, fears and grievances but that are dedicated to not being shackled by them; conversations in which we hear things we don't want to hear; conversations that are in the spirit of Marvin Gaye when he sang, “Talk to me, so you can see what's going on.” And they should be conversations that don't require anyone to have to “transcend race” or become “colorblind.” When you say that someone transcends race, you're saying that they weren't good enough for you when you saw them only as black, white or brown. But now that you see that they're not as different from you, they're OK. Do the patches of a quilt “transcend” cloth? Are they not unique parts of a wonderful and colorful tapestry? Can a person who is colorblind appreciate the different colors of a rainbow and how they beautifully complement each other? No one should have to forfeit his or her identity to be accepted or understood. On Tuesday, I received an e-mail from a reader named Jack that began this way: “Mr. Clack. As a 79-year-old white man who grew up in the North, isolated from black people, I only knew there were `negroes,' mulattos and whites. Twenty-five years in the Air Force changed nothing; the terms were still the same. After I retired came the terms `black,' ‘African American,' etc. As one whose heritage includes both the black and white world, I wonder if you could do a piece on WHO IS BLACK, or WHAT IS BLACK. Are you, Tony Parker, Tiger Woods and many others of mixed blood considered to be black? Of course, it should not matter what the color of a person's skin is, only their attributes, good and bad. Thank you for any consideration you may give my thoughts.” It's a question asked honestly and with sincerity; a question that shows me that at the age of 79, Jack wants to continue on this journey to reconciliation; a question that can lead to more and tougher questions as well as a spirited but healthy conversation. So I'm giving Jack a call. It won't matter whether or not the nation has another truncated national conversation. I'm going to have a conversation with Jack. __
