Are You Waiting for Me to Apologize?

Listening and watching the race bait crowd, the Left, the media, pro athletes and the Hollywood weirdos, it is my understanding that being a white male is now the most dangerous and despicable thing anyone could possibly be. It is now up to those of us who were born into such despicableness to admit how awful we are, apologize for how privileged we are, and as if that isn’t enough, we must find ways to turn over our many privileges to those of color who, as I understand the narrative, have no privileges, no opportunities, and really no future at all. This lack of privilege and opportunity are why, on a daily basis, we see so much looting, fighting, killing and burning of buildings. Do I have this right? Do I understand today’s race narrative? Have I missed anything?

I won’t spend time today providing examples of other white male privileges, instead I’ll just focus on my own. Before I do though, I’d like to point out that being privileged is in the eye of the beholder. Is it not? What I might think is privileged may be much different than what you think is privileged. And therein lies the problem with this entire narrative. The “white” bum (oops sorry, the homeless) living on the sidewalk in San Francisco more than likely thinks that the black guy who just passed him wearing $150 tennis shoes is a privileged individual. In fact, anyone who actually walked past him wearing shoes period is better off than he, right? Right. I happen to think Mr. Racist himself, LeBron James is much more privileged than I. He has more money, better clothes, drives better cars and has a nicer house than I do. Hell, make that nicer “houses”. Do I think he should give me some of that? NO, I am 5’6” and can’t make a free-throw to save my white ass. Do you see what I mean about privilege being in the eye of the beholder or should I go on? The truth of the matter is, that anyone who thinks they should have something that someone else has is either too damn lazy to work for it or… there is no or, that’s the answer.

Truth. Notice Kami didn’t go with Asian Heritage…

My father, like many of us growing up, had several jobs over the years. He was a rancher, a truck driver, a heavy equipment operator and in the end, a logger and self employed jack-of-all-trades. I was born in a small two bedroom home. I had two older brothers and one sister who, thank God is still alive and kickin’! Mom, who we lost when I was 14 years old to cancer, cooked pancakes on a wood stove and dried her clothes on a clothesline in the backyard. You know, when it wasn’t raining. The old man, at that time owned several logging trucks and Cats (as in Caterpillars, not the insects), the ones with tracks and a winch, the yellow ones. LOL. Grandpa owned and operated a used furniture store and a gas station. He had a small one bedroom apartment located at the end of the furniture store. It was pretty cool. You could step outside of our house, into the side door of the furniture store, walk all the way down the store and right into grandpa’s apartment. Even better, if you kept going, you could open a door inside the apartment and step into the gas station garage, which as a young boy, I thought was pretty cool. The garage had one of those pits in it where you drove the car over it and went down under into the pit to work on it. No lift. Grandpa used to keep his saddle from back in the day sitting on a sawhorse. I would spend hours sitting on the saddle with my toy six shooters and cowboy hat on pretending to tame the Wild Wild West. Sorry, childhood memories are popping up all over the place.

We got our eggs from the ducks and chickens we raised, got our pork from the hogs we kept and my brothers rarely allowed us to run out of venison.

The California flood of 1964 took everything the old man had and wiped it away. There were saw mills on each side of our property. You can imagine what the logs did to our home, the furniture store, gas station and the logging trucks that were all parked nicely in a row at the far end of the lot. When we went back to assess the damage, there was six feet of mud inside our house. We lost everything, including all the family photos and grandpa’s saddle too which as a 10 year old the saddle and my bike were the biggest losses… The one thing I’ll never forget was how my father reacted to all of this. He never once shed a tear, not in front of me anyway. In front of us he was strong and made us all feel like everything was going to be just fine. And it was.

Mom and I lived in a Red Cross house for the next several months while the old man regained his footing. He went to the Bay Area to work. Brothers and sisters spread out working on their own.

Our white privilege didn’t come easy and was taken away during one bad, very bad rainy week. I remember the mayo sandwiches, the second-hand shoes that the old man bought for me from the pawn shop in Oakland and the baseball mitt that Mom purchased for me from her tip jar money, hard earned from cutting hair. All of those things ensured that I would never feel underprivileged. Eventually, Dad returned and moved Ma and me to Yreka, California where he managed to get a job operating a crane. We lived in a one bedroom trailer house. After Mom got sick, Dad took her to Hayward, California for cancer treatment at Stanford, I finished the 8th grade on my own in Yreka. I wasn’t really alone though, the old man had every damn neighbor in the trailer park looking after me. After school let out, I hopped on a Greyhound bus to meet up with the rest of the family in Hayward. I had a layover at the bus station in San Francisco at 4 in the morning. Not a place I would recommend anyone being, ever. To this day, I cuss the family for not picking me up there. Talk about a country boy out of water… Good Lord. Mom died in 1969. Being the baby in the family and other significant life events resulted in an extremely close relationship between my mother and me. She was so sick in the end I remember praying for God to take her so she’d no longer be in so much pain… It was an awful year.

My guess is that everyone has their own life experiences that make swallowing this white privilege bullshit simply unacceptable. So if they are waiting for me to apologize for my whiteness they are going to be waiting a very long, long time. It simply ain’t gonna happen.

I am proud of my family and proud of myself. I’ve worked very hard all of my life and what I have, I have. I earned it and I’ll be keeping it. Thank you very much!

Ben is right but you know what? I don’t give a hoot what these Leftist Asshats have to say.

Have a good rest of your weekend friends. And if you’re white, black, brown or purple stay that way. Individualism is a beautiful thing!

Author: admin

The editor of Let Me Jump in places himself in the category of being like any other normal American. He has worked his whole life, paid his own way, honors his family and friends and cares a great deal about America. Overall very conservative as well as open minded. Editor feels it is important to share his common sense toward everyday topics. Editor is concerned the country isn't always headed in the best direction and very concerned with the state of Washington and politics in general.

2 thoughts on “Are You Waiting for Me to Apologize?”

  1. Mr Dan as always your on point again today.And no there really is a war on men right now and it’s both races. There is no reason these ass hats that are privileged to demand my anything. They want what I have go work and get anything you want.
    I see were your going with this privilege theme but LeBron may have a nicer home but everything he owns has blood on it from children. And he has an evil heart. Were your things may have blood sweat and tears, but their your own.I have to say I am so sick of hearing these ass hats yapping about how hard they have had it. All the while still demanding what we have. And the douche bag that started all this crap he was raised in a white upper class home with family that loved him. Don’t know how much they love the little prick now but they did.
    This paragraph brought back so many great memories for me as well. Sorry for the loss of your Mom. I was raised by my mother’s parents very strict farmer’s. Grand Dad was pretty ill most of my up bringing. In WW1 he had half of his right lung shot out and was missing half of his left side. Grandma cooked on a stove also but we used coal. In fact I still have that old stove.Not until I was maybe 9 there was no electric. And yes the out house was used until I was 12 then we were allowed to use the new restroom and wash the hands BUT no baths in the new tub. We still used boiled hot water in a soak tub. I was lucky I was the only girl to five brother’s and uncles. I got bathed first.Your Grandpa’s place sounds wonderful. What adventures I bet ya had. GrandDad raised Clydesdale horses they were for logging. I loved helping with the horses. I never had fear of any of them. Grandma made all our clothing and toys we never got store bought gifts. I still have the dolls she made me.And I sure wish she was here.I have one regret not learning from her. Before metal was forged for necklaces hair was crocheted to make the chains. An old art that is basically dead now. I do have some that Grandma made.And my brothers and I played with six shooter’s and roamed the wild west also. What fun memories.
    We also got our food from what stock we had and fields of every sort of vegetables.Grandma was the best pastry maker of all time (thank God she taught me that trade) My husband is grateful.
    I’m sorry to hear about your loss in 1964. Again another life adventure that your family worked hard and things turned to some what normal.BUT I bet you were loved and happy. I know with all the things our family went through just made us all stronger.
    I have worked my butt off all these years to get everything I own. No white BS here. And I will NEVER apologize for being white and no silver spoon in my mouth either.I am so thankful for everything my family endured to make me who I am today.
    Thank you for the beautiful stroll down memory lane. It’s a beautiful thing. Okay now back to reality haven’t heard what brain fluff has planned for us today. Have a wonderful weekend Mr Dan.

    1. Sorry for the late response Jan, what a wonderful response it is! Seem’s to me you should have your own blog too! I so appreciate hearing from you each week and the more I learn about you, your husband and history the more I understand why we agree on so many things. Our parents and grandparents were hard working people who loved and cared for their families. Something quite frankly that is lost on so many households today. One of my uncles before he died was a foreman for a rich dude rancher in Colorado. His barn for their Clydesdale’s was nicer than any house I’ve ever owned! They are such majestic animals, beautiful.

      I hope your weekend was great and that you are back to feeling yourself again.

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