A remarkable throwback. I lost this work long ago but a friend had kept it and recently shared it with me.

The Playground

In my childhood filled with wonder
Was a playground in the sun,
Where I played with different people
Having lots of happy fun.
The differences don’t matter and they don’t affect the games
When you love the friendly people with the funny- sounding names.

Then later in the schoolyard when-
I met some grown up boys
They said, “You must not like those folks,
Or let them use your toys.
And furthermore you must not ever join them in their games,”
The special friendly people with the funny- sounding names.

I said, “But there’s no problem,
‘Least there’s none that I can see,
Those folks are nice and friendly
Just the same as you and me.
The differences don’t matter and they don’t affect the games
When you love the friendly people with the funny- sounding names.”

But something made them angry.
Was it something that I said?
They looked at me with hatred
And their faces turned bright red.
“We told you not to like those folks or join them in their games.”
The special friendly people with the funny- sounding names.

Now through the years I’ve seen this problem
Happen more and more—
Of people choosing sides
And even fighting in a war;
For reasons I can’t comprehend but every army blames-
The special friendly people with the funny- sounding names.

The world I see is frightened now.
The problem’s gone too far—
No children in the playground
And I don’t know where they are;
And everywhere the people fear they might be set in flames
For such a stupid reason as their funny sounding names.

I think it must be possible
To stop this thing some way-
If we can get enough of us—
Together who will say,
“The differences don’t matter and they don’t affect the games
When you love the friendly people with the funny- sounding names.”

John H. Bidwell
Written November, 1984.