I roll my protesting body out of bed once/twice a week to play early morning basketball with a group of guys at the local YMCA. It's a lot of fun, and a helluva great workout. The stable of players numbers about 20, so it's no trouble to dial up 10 guys for each session. The group is diverse in terms of age (early 20's thru early 50's) and economic standing (broke kids looking for a job thru senior VP's at local companies). What it is not diverse in is race....we're all pasty gangstas. Which brings me to my delimma earlier this week.....
We had our 10 guys and were on the court sweating it out before sunrise earlier this week. There happened to be a handful of guys on a side court that morning. About halfway through our games three of the guys hopped into the game while three of us rested (yours truly included). So I'm sitting on the bench chatting it up with the other two guys when an older guy who is the father of one of the new players comes up to us and starts chatting too. He looks right at me and asks how his son is doing. I don't know squat about the three new guys who joined in, so the logical reply from me is "Which one is your son?".
Now here's the dilemma: the Dad is not a pasy gangsta like the rest of us, and a quick scan at the court allows me to pick out which kid is obviously his son. "Obviously" may be a stretch, because aside from skin tone the kid looks nothing like his Dad. Should I say "Which one is your son", and look like an absolute blind idiot? Or should I point to the kid and say "Oh, the kid's holding his own", and thus prove that I jumped to race as the identifier for the kid instead of height, color of shirt, etc.
Maybe I'm making too much out of this.
A Gen X'r in Gen Y Land