I keep hoping for a peaceful resolution but perhaps none is possible. I have a dream of reconciliation before we endure another civil war, but maybe we'll tear ourselves apart again. When I was imprisoned, for refusing to kill for Nixon, a black guard, while his white friends held me, ripped my clothes off and dragged me by my heels into a punishment segregation cell, so I know racism works both ways. I could hate, too, but  choose not to.  Perhaps what we need are complementary statues of slaves being driven by a whip on the same corner as their massahs on horseback. Then the heritage of both sides could be remembered.