So Many People: A Micro Story About Race

 

 

The Jones family gazed compassionately at the television set as CNN showed the third funeral of George Floyd. “So many people,” says Herman Jones. “He was loved by so many people.” The Jones family was moved by the maskless hugs of comradery, the affectionate kisses on the cheek, the celebratory joining of hands by members of the congregation. “So many people.” Shania thinks her dad must be sad. They couldn’t even have one funeral for his mother. She lived just on the other side of town. ”I’m going to miss Granny Ester,” says Shania, quietly, and sadly as they watched the choir sing “Amazing Grace.” “I guess this is different,” she begins to wonder silently. She tried to control her anger as she remembers how Granny Ester was the pillar of the community: she was a principal at Glendale High for 20 years, she donated to a whole host of charities, and taught piano to underprivileged kids in her spare time. "Too bad we couldn't give HER a proper send-off," she utters even louder, unsuccessfully trying to hide her tone of disappointment. Apparently, this is different. “So many people. So many people.”