“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never break me.”
This old English adage dating back to the 1800’s is naïve, very naïve.
I live in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, a town of 12,000 plus people. Those of us who live here love the glorious hiking, skiing, fishing, swimming, in other words: the good life. We are a sterling community. We have a local newspaper, Steamboat Today, which has won awards, community theater, dance groups, concerts, even opera and a state of the arts library whose bibliognosts invite prominent authors to talk to us. And yet, here and there, not more than in other communities, children and occasional adults too, have to be comforted with the old adage, …sticks and stones …. One black child, adopted by a caring woman, who sent him to a local day camp, was called a nigger. An attentive librarian who planned a program honoring the late James Baldwin, the famous black writer, confided that when the program was announced there were, before the event, some brief racist comments about her choice. Nothing to worry about. --Maybe.
From Colorado
STICKS AND STONES
by Edith Lynn Beer