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Vi Mooberry's avatar

As a young, 22 yr. old newly married woman from Peoria, Illinois, I found myself living in Pensacola, Florida in 1962. My husband was a Naval cadet in flight training school and the apartment we lived in had no washing/drying facilities. So, on one of my first days there, I found myself , clothes basket in hand, heading to the local, small laundromat. I was the only one there and there were only 6 washing machines. The first three were labeled "White" and the last three were labeled "Colored"! I was taken aback, but followed the instruction and put my white clothes in one of the three labeled such and my colored clothes, likewise where they were asked to be placed. I was a college graduate from the midwest who was unaware of the atrocities that occurred in the South at that time. Your story brought that memory fresh to my mind this morning, Michael. I would have loved your mom as a friend and I vowed after realizing the cruelty of that moment that my children would be aware of much more than I at a young age. And, they were! That's the good news. I love reading your youthful reflections and thoughts. Thanks for all you do to keep us on the "aware" path!

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Anne Whitney's avatar

Your mother was an amazing person. For a woman in the 1960’s to take a racist gas station owner to task was remarkable.

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