I have lived in Chicago all of my life and have been reading the Sun-Times every morning for most of my adulthood.
The newspaper has chronicled the happenings of our city throughout the years — the ups and downs, triumphs and tragedies, good times and bad. It has been a strong voice — not only for reporting the news but also for telling the stories behind the news.
There was one story that became very personal to me. It happened 46 years ago.
At the time, the Sun-Times brought home for me the direction in which I hoped Chicago would go. And that message is still true today.
In September 1977, I was a single mother of three young children, all attending the nearby public school — Stevenson Elementary in Scottsdale, a Southwest Side, all-white neighborhood. But that fall the decision had been made to start busing Black students to our school in an effort to integrate it.
Black students from other areas were sent to Stevenson and other local schools. Parents were up in arms. Even before classes started, community leaders made it known this would not be tolerated.
The word went out: Don’t send your kids to Stevenson. Keep them home in protest.
There were rallies. There were signs. There were shouts and screams.
When the buses arrived at the start of the school day, the students were met with racial slurs and foul language. Even the little first-graders had to walk past lines of angry adults.
On my block, organizers went door to door, handing out posters for everyone to put in their windows. The signs urged everyone to “unite in protest” and boycott the school.
I did not take a poster.
That night, I sat my children down and told them that they absolutely would be going to class. And that, even if we got dirty looks from our neighbors, we would not be joining in the ugliness.
On the morning of Sept. 8, the Sun-Times’ headline story was about the busing and boycotts.
Imagine my shock and surprise when I saw a picture of my daughter Caroline on the front page. The photograph, taken to illustrate the text, showed her with her new Black friend sharing a moment at lunch. The accompanying story said that, in spite of and in contrast to what was going on outside, small children had not been poisoned to see fellow playmates based on skin color.
It has always been my opinion that you don’t have to be an elected official, a community leader or a popular figure of any sort to make the world a better place. Individual kindness goes a long way.
I like to think that my daughter and her friend were little inspirations by example. I hoped that photo and that story brought readers to the idea that we need to be nicer to one another, to be tolerant and to refrain from hatred and cruelty.
Are things better now after 40-plus years? I wonder.
I still see a lot of anger and intolerance in Chicago. I see it in people of all colors, ages and religions. And I think that, if each one of us, in our own little world, would commit to being kind, that it would be so much easier to solve all the other problems.
I am hopeful for our future. I pray we will all come to realize — like my daughter did that day — that it is better to care than to scare. My wish is that we can become real neighbors to one another.
Nancy Osness is our latest Chicago’s Next Voices guest columnist.
