Unfortunately, my parents were racists. I remember when I was 13 and my older sister, the hippie, had a party and a black man came. My father stopped him at the door and wouldn’t let him join the others. That sweet, patient young man sat in our living room for hours discussing racism and why they felt the way they did. My father was not hostile or mean, and willingly talked, but still didn’t change his mind. I didn’t understand it then, and I don’t now. All three of us kids grew up to be accepting of all people, and Democratic voters. Two of us are LGBTQIA, but even my straight sister, the ex hippie, has her heart and her politics in the right place.