Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: COLOR (07/30/20)
-
TITLE: Graduation Night | Previous Challenge Entry
By Tana Craig
08/04/20 -
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES
Graduation Night
From 1938 to 1954, my world was a southern California neighborhood three streets wide and four blocks long, thirty minutes east of Los Angeles. It had everything that a person needed:
A gas station, A church, two corner grocery stores, an egg lady (she didn’t lay them herself, she got them from her chickens, candled them, boxed and sold them.) It also had two things we didn’t want; A bar at the north end and a slaughterhouse at the south end.
Our neighborhood was bordered on the east side by a four-lane, north/south highway running from the mountains to the ocean. Across the northern border, a two-lane road ran from Palm Springs to Los Angeles. The San Gabriel Riverbed ran along the third side, enclosed our neighborhood on the west. There were no sidewalks; there were ditches when it rained. With half-acre lots, and fertile soil full of fruit trees, gardens, chickens, and the occasional cow or pig, we were self-sufficient.
Second-generation immigrants from Poland, Sweden, Finland, Mexico, and everywhere else (one family was even from Chicago,) we were a genuine melting pot.
Most of us went to school together from kindergarten through junior high. Graduation from junior high was a big deal; long dresses for the girls, and shirt, tie, and jackets for the boys.
My parents said my friend Ruth and I could invite boys to go with us to Los Angeles for a special dinner. We asked two classmates, both named John.
Ruth and I had pastel dresses and corsages. The boys looked all shined up for an evening “on the town.” And what a fun night it was. There were two Clifton cafeterias in Los Angeles. One had a tropical theme, with a thatched roof area where it “rained” at intervals and with piano and harp played during dinner. We decided on the other Clifton’s, with Christ spot-lighted in the darkness, praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. Mr. Clifton was a Christian man who gave food to anyone who did not have money to pay. He was also imaginative; we walked through tunnels to pick out what we wanted to eat. Flowers, music, and rock formations were lending a mysterious air to the evening.
“Thanks a lot, Dad, for taking us out for graduation, it was so nice,” I told my father the next day.
“Glad we could treat you,” he paused, “but next time, I don’t think you should invite that one boy.”
“Which one, Dad?” I asked.
“That one, Alvarez or Alvarado, boy,” he answered, looking concerned.
“Did he do something wrong? Did he say something you didn’t like?”
“No, he just seemed to feel out of place with us, uncomfortable. Like he would be more at ease with his people. He’s pretty dark.”
It took me a minute to understand what my father was saying. He didn’t feel comfortable seeing Ruth and me out in the company of a brown-skinned boy. My father thinks less of people of a different color from his.
“I think he enjoyed himself,” I replied quietly.
That was my first experience with prejudice, but it would not be my last. I did not agree with judging a person based on his skin color. People, like flowers, come in all different colors. Jesus says His followers are to love them all. The Bible records God as being no respecter of persons.
“There is neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ.” Gal.3:28
Word Count:595
Non-fiction
.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be right now. CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.
With only 750 words, it is important to assess which details move the story forward, and which do not. For instance, having already made clear how small a community it was, listing the features that border it did not seem to me to add any needed detail. Even if you had to reconstruct some scenes, I would like to have known how you and Ruth got to know the young men, and some development of those relationships that prompted you to select them as your guests.
You could also have spared words for mmore pertinent use by only describing the restaurant you selected, rather than detailing the options.
It would give you more wiggle room to add engaging dialog, consistent with the story, though not necessarily straight out of memory, if you wrote "based on a true story" rather than "nonfiction." As always, take what helps and leave what does not.
To make the come alive with dialog does make the piece come alive with color.
Your idea of writing about this experience was excellent and on point however. Thank you for sharing this story with us.