I didn’t grow up with black friends. I lived in a white suburb, surrounded by white neighbors. I don’t remember a single person of color in my elementary school and there were only a handful in my very large high school. I’ve worked with one black man in my entire career.

After my husband and I got married, I gained a black niece and her four children have become my great-niece and nephews. Through blogging, I have met some of the most thought-provoking women (and men) of color. These people, this family, and community is mine, regardless of the shade of their skin. Where I came from and what I experienced growing up no longer matter.

Right now, these friends are hurting. People act out because they are hurting. Just the other day, I was slamming doors and drawers and I actually punched a wall because I was hurting. It is not fair for me to judge others for their reaction to pain.

My niece and friends live in fear for their sons’ lives and my heart is breaking. I’m not even talking about the people protesting in Ferguson, I’m talking about my family across town and my friends in Cincinnati, Chicago, New York, Houston, Albany, Austin, Atlanta, and every other city across the United States. These are American mothers and fathers who go to work, love their families, and shouldn’t have to live under a different system than white people. It’s really that simple.

But, of course, it’s not simple.

At church last week, the homily was about treating every person you come in contact with as if they were Jesus. It’s hard not to gossip, judge, and be open to new thoughts; I know I am guilty of it. But, don’t we owe it to these young people in our midst to try? Just listen to the stories. Really listen. Without judgment. That should be simple enough. It’s a start, at least.

Just because I was privileged enough to be born with white skin doesn’t make me privileged enough to not care.

My great-nephews lives may depend upon it.

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My daughter is currently working on a paper for her English class which she has titled, “The Epitome of Morals.” Obviously, I am the subject matter. Oh, okay that’s not true. It’s Atticus Finch.

I’m going to try really hard not to take the moral high-ground here, because I am nothing if not flawed. I have a lot of remorse and regret over past behavior and I still make errors every single day. That’s because I’m human. It’s not an excuse, but it’s a fact. None of us walk a perfect straight and narrow.

But, at what point do we draw a line and say someone has morally crossed it?

The truth is, not much has changed since Harper Lee wrote To Kill a Mockingbird. Mockingbirds are still being slain while bluejays fly free. More and more and more, every single day. Are you a mockingbird? Are you making the world a better place? Do you treat people with love, kindness and respect? Are you singing a beautiful song?

We would all be better people if we had a little Atticus Finch in us; if we were courageous, strong, calm and kind. Maycomb isn’t just a symbol of my town or your town – it’s a symbol of me and you. It’s the good and the bad within us and which one we choose to display.

I’m thankful my daughter recognizes the morals of Atticus as a citizen, lawyer, father, neighbor and friend.

It’s too bad he’s just a character in a book.

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This post was inspired by Netflix. Come see what we’re watching.

If you had to pick one friend with whom to get stuck on a deserted island, who would you pick? I would be hard-pressed to choose between my very sensible, resourceful, crafty friend and the friend I have who would slap me in the face and tell me to stop freaking out, instruct me to enjoy the sunshine, and help me figure out how to make alcohol out of coconuts.

I am fortunate to have a diverse group of friends on whom I can count. They each speak to the different parts of my personality – though, I’ll be honest, I’ve yet to find one who will hang with me at my gym or meet me on the running trail. That’s okay, though, because I don’t usually have enough air to breathe, let alone talk.

I have family-friends, work-friends, church-friends, online-friends and drinking-friends. I even have dog-friends; not people with dogs, but actual dogs. My two Labs listen to me more than anyone else. Sometimes, I get them drunk and I have drinking-dog-friends. Then we play poker.

Honestly, I couldn’t choose just one person to join me on that island; I’d want to bring them all. One thing’s for sure, it would be one heck of a good time. Unless we had to eat each other. That would kind of stink.

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I’m feeling thankful for my friends lately. Maybe it’s because it’s Thanksgiving week, maybe it’s because I’ve really needed them lately, or maybe it’s because Netflix is bringing us all 10 seasons of “Friends” starting January 1st!

Remember the Thanksgiving episodes of “Friends”? Who didn’t want a group with whom you could play football in Central Park? Who didn’t want a Monica preparing dinner? Who didn’t want Brad Pitt at the table?

If I invited my closest friends to Thanksgiving dinner, it would be a crew that looked a lot like those six, crazy kids. Though we’re in our 40s, not our 20s, and none of my male friends look like Brad Pitt. But, we would laugh a lot. You can be sure of that. My friends have to make me laugh.

My husband would probably want someone with whom he could talk sports and my kids would both want friends who stimulated their minds. My 12-year old son would pick the Kratt Brothers and my daughter would choose Sherlock and John Watson, even though they’re British and probably hold a grudge about the whole Mayflower thing.

Any of us would probably want to hang out with Jennifer Lawrence – you can catch her on Netflix right now as Katniss Everdeen in “Catching Fire”, where she plays a friend who would give her life for you and in “Silver Linings Playbook”. I just watched that again. I think it’s one of my favorite movies, ever. Everyone needs a friend who will put up with our manic side. Just sayin’.

So, our Thanksgiving table would include a girl who’s great with a bow and arrow, two guys who are fantastic with zoo animals, six NYC 20-somethings, and a couple of British guys.

I call the wishbone!

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