Much of what I recall from 1966 is pleasant. I was married that year and my second year was at Idaho State University.  I had spent my entire life in Idaho and had a little experience that would have helped me understand everything happening.

At the beginning of American military involvement in 1964, fewer than 50 percent of Americans had ever heard of Vietnam. The Vietnam War and civil rights protests were on TV every night. Guys I had gone to school with were going to war.  By 1966, some were coming back, reenlisting, and going back again, thinking they had to see some action before the war ended; some didn't come back. The ugly view of the war was something that we got first-hand reports on when the guys we had gone to school with returned.

Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream “ speech occurred in August 1963, and things worsened. The issue of civil rights was one that, as far as first-hand experiences, for us in that part of the country, were not the same. It wasn’t clear to some of us why the blacks lived in one part of town; to some degree, it seemed like it was just where they wanted to be. The only prejudice we heard was primarily from our parents’ generation.

When I attended Pocatello High School, the Student Body President was Marvin Brown. He was an African American. He was very popular and well-liked, which is what you heard about him. You didn’t hear much from the students about race. In September 1962, Marvin was killed in a car accident.  He would have gone to Harvard in another few weeks with his scholarship.  We were all saddened by the event. Things were very different in Southeastern Idaho than you saw on the news in the next few years.

Why were our lives then sheltered and not in the direct line of fire for all these problems?  Why didn’t we understand it more then? Does the fact that we didn’t understand it then mean we didn’t come to the same conclusions that many who were in the middle of it did, at least eventually? We thought we understood what the Civil Rights movement was at the time.  We knew about what was happening, but we didn't have experience. It seemed incredible that there even was such a difference in the treatment of people in our country.

Some may feel that it was "just the luck of the draw" for us in that part of the country.  By that, I mean that some people believe that we don't make many choices in our lives and are all just with the circumstances given. They feel that choices and thinking about things result from how we were "wired,” where we were born, or who our parents are. Our genetics and circumstances are felt to have programmed us and dictated how we choose.  Even today, a popular point of view is that free will is an illusion.  I’m afraid I have to disagree with this point of view. If I didn't have the experience back in 1966 to understand what was happening then, I have had more than enough time to ponder it since then, and I have—looking back and seeing my lack of experience has compelled me to look harder than others may have.

Experience, when added to knowledge, is better than either one alone in searching for wisdom.  The search also requires deciding how to connect the events in our lives.   It can take some time for things to seem transparent.

One experience I did have surprised me. I am still trying to understand what it taught me, but I think part of the answer is to help me understand more about kindness.

At about the same time as all the things that were so troubling in the country, an unexpected thing happened to me. At the University, we would go to the student union between classes, meet with friends, and talk.  I made a new friend in one of my classes. He was an exchange student from a country in Africa. He was black, brilliant, and seemed to have a different take on things.  Sitting and talking with him was something I looked forward to each day.  I am not saying we were best friends, but several months went by, and our routine was solid. 

One day, while we sat together talking, he changed the subject and told me he didn’t want to be my friend anymore and would get up and leave. I was shocked and asked why. He said it was obvious to him that I only wanted to be friends with him because he was an exchange student from Africa and not just an American Black. (Even now, I wouldn't use the word that then was used for Blacks). He said that with how the American people felt about and treated the American Blacks, it was clear to him that I must be no different. He added that this was his conclusion, which he felt was apparent. He said all I had to do was watch the news to see if it was true.  He left, and the friendship ended.

There is no good ending to this story. I was shocked. I didn’t understand how I was to blame.  I felt offended. How could I be so naive?  Here is a case where I had experience before I knew. 

We need to find ways to let others know we care about them. I would rather be misjudged or criticized for caring for others than guilty of not caring.

Knowledge tells me that we should care about people. Experience tells me that it can be one-sided at times. Wisdom tells me that caring and kindness matter.