When my mother was six, the KKK rode on horseback down the street in front of her house. There was not a black person within 50 miles in any direction. These men hated Catholics. My mother stood with the rest of her Lace Curtain Irish Catholic family, staring at the men’s shoes. She realized she knew some of them. She had seen their shoes at the market, the post office, the notions store downtown. They were neighbors, friends. Weren’t they?
We have learned, over and over that friends can change with the pull of a trigger, the flash of a knife, the donning of a sheet. It is a sad truth.