O’REE, Holly Ann
Holly Ann O’Ree, 37, of Fairmount, GA died January 31, 2021. Services were held at 3:00 PM, on February 7, 2021 at Max Brannon and Sons Funeral Home. Arrangements by Max Brannon and Sons Funeral Home.
Growing up as a military kid, I was exposed to all kinds of cultures, languages, religions, and people in general. One thing I learned as I’ve traveled through this world is that all human beings, no matter who they are or where they live, want three basic things — food, shelter, and respect.
When I was a kid and my father was in the Air Force stationed in Louisiana, I never realized that the reason no Black kids were in my classes was because they were not allowed to attend my school.
Only white kids were allowed to attend my school. This was such a puzzlement to me. I remember asking my mother why and her explanation was that there was such a thing as segregation and it was a law that Black kids could not go to school with white kids.
When we were stationed in Kansas, it was totally different. All kids of all colors, religions, and so forth went to school together. The case of Brown versus the Board of Education of Topeka, Kansas changed segregation laws and opened the way for integration.
Growing up with parents who taught all their children that all people were of the human race was how it was for me. I never noticed color, truly. My teachers in Kansas never seemed to see color. A young Black boy in my sixth grade class had a terrible time learning to spell. I remember my teacher was so patient with him. When he only missed one word on a test, she made us all stand up and applaud him. One girl wouldn’t stand up. She told the teacher she wouldn’t stand up for him and she called him a terrible word. I was shocked. In truth, I didn’t know why she was being so mean.
The teacher sent her to the principal’s office. Mrs. Hageman apologized to James who was looking bewildered. I spoke up and said that my mother and father never allowed us to say that terrible word. The whole class told James we were sorry and we clapped for him again. The unfortunate thing for the little girl who said that foul word was that she had been taught that hateful word. She had already been taught to hate.
When we lived in Morocco, we lived in a village and not on the base. My father wanted us to soak up the culture of the region. We lived in French Morocco. The other half was Spanish Morocco. One incident I remember that happened over 60 years ago was when a well-dressed Frenchman was walking on the wooden board walk of the village. An extremely disabled Arab man who lived in the village was on his little cart on wheels heading toward the other man.
With the swipe of his hand, the Frenchman knocked the Arab man off his cart and onto the street and then walked on. I was just a little kid, but I went to get the man’s cart for him. I was too little to help him up, but he said “thank you” in Arabic. My father saw it happen from our apartment window and came down to help. I’ll never forget it as long as I live. He actually lifted the man onto his cart and helped him back on the boardwalk. The man kissed his hand. It’s not difficult to be kind. This was so many years ago in a different world, but prejudice was alive and well.
Being prejudiced has reared its ugly head many times in my life time. In Tennessee, after my father left the Air Force, I saw the fear on African American children’s faces while they were on the school bus when integration was started at the high school I attended. The every day students were not yelling terrible things at the Black kids on the bus. Their parents and other adults were. We kids were fine with it except maybe those who were taught from an early age to hate.
When I moved to Calhoun to teach school over 50 years ago, the schools had been integrated only a year or so. Some of the finest students I ever taught were Black kids. Some of us are friends to this day. They are grandparents just like me. They have families, friends, and some have known the ugliness of prejudice. And for what reason? How does skin color make someone less than another, less important, less equal?
I do not nor will I ever accept this type of thinking as being right and decent. This is Black History Month and it is well deserved. Black lives matter, not just because people are Black, but because they are human beings. All people are of the human race, but some haven’t been respected that way. It’s time that changed.