KLAN, ... AS IN KLU KLUX.
AND THE TOWN, ACTUALLY THE VILLAGE, WHERE MY DAD AND HIS SISTER JOYCE GREW UP ...FOXBORO.
The other day, I made mention of the infamous klan and it reminded of something my late father told me years ago. It happened when he was a young child living in Foxboro, population then probably around 800 souls - white souls at that and most of whom had never come into contact with a black person.
It was the dirty 30s - unemployment was rampant and extremist groups were sprouting up all over the place ...even in dear olde Foxboro.
It was a time when young men hit the rails travelling from one end of the country to the other in a desperate and mostly vain attempt to find work.
My father vividly recalled the time one of these 'hoboes' tried to break into their family home, during the day, when his father was not there. My dad - young as he was (12ish) - was able to thwart the potential intruder's best efforts to get in.
Things were so bad economically that dad recalled being so happy on Christmas morning to find an orange in the sparse pickings of his Christmas stocking. That would be the only orange he would get until next Christmas came along.
So you get the idea - times were tough - as they were all over the world.
So with this bleak background permit me to get back to the klan.
It was during one of these depression days that saw a recruiter for the KKK come into the tiny village. An air of excitement ran through the local citizenry even though they did not have the slightest clue as to what the klan was all about.
Lines formed ...okay - one line formed in a bid to sign up and sign-up they did. Even Hock and Spit (Foxboro's answer to Mutt & Jeff) were quick to jot-down their respective John Henry's.
But the fervour did not last and even dad could not recall if the new chapter ever actually got round to having a meeting. It was really pointless anyway since once the recruiter moved on - there was no one left who even knew how to conduct such a meeting.
It came down to a little excitement in a time of hopelessness and boredom. Why a medicine man selling snake oil would have attracted much more excitement to liven up the day.
I know if any Foxborions who had signed up that day were alive today - they would be so embarrassed since they'd now know what a horrid bunch the klan is and was - but it was a much simpler time then - shall I say - a more innocent time that looking back we can see the humour in their naivete while empathizing with the tough times they endured.
As I see it...
'K.D. Galagher'
