I’m a military veteran: four years in the U.S. Navy, mostly on ships. When I was on the carrier U.S.S. Wasp, CVS-18, if it were to go down at sea, or if it were being boarded by Russians, it was my responsibility to destroy the top secret cryptographic materials on that flagship rather than have it fall into enemy hands. I would have died doing that, and was prepared to do so. It was my solemn duty. So while I often tease about how little real action I saw during my military tour, there were those times like in Guantanamo Bay at night when I stood watch with my loaded M-1 aft ship while my shipmates slept, and if a Cuban or Russian tried to board that ship it was up to me to prevent that from happening, and I would have, or would have died trying.

Fast forward to my late twenties. I’m a junior officer at the Chase Manhattan Bank in New York. My best friend from college, Terry Wright, was a manager at Consolidated Edison, New York’s public utility. We were proud and dedicated corporate types. One of the benefits of having a decent job was going to the Knicks game, which we did. We went after work, so had on our corporate uniforms. I had on a blue pinstriped suit, white shirt, and yellow tie. Terry had on a brown pin striped suit, white shirt, and red tie. Before the games, when the national anthem was played, we always stood with our hands on our hearts, loyal and proud Americans (both with Caribbean roots.) That wasn’t always the case with people of color in those days. There was much racial and ethnic strife in the 1970s, as the nation struggled with the emerging civil rights and integration rules. FALN (Fuerzas Armadas de Liberacion Nacional) were blowing things up in New York City, seeking Puerto Rico’s independence. There were several black nationalist organizations advocating the same, and militancy was rampant. We understood and were empathetic, having experienced daily racial indignation all our lives, and having been active in the Student Organization for Black Unity on our college campus. However, it was our belief and hope that times were changing, and that through dedication and hard work one could overcome the circumstances of one’s birth, and integrate successfully into mainstream society.

At this particular game, we arrived early. We had good seats, and walking to them we passed some white teens that we noticed only because there were about 5 of them, and they were sort of loud, joking and having fun, and most of the seats were empty at the time. At any rate, we got to our seats, settled in, and began discussing how our individual work days had gone. At one point, we noticed that the teens we had seen sitting far behind us had moved, and were now sitting in a lower section even than ours, to our right. We commented on it, and returned to our conversation. We were interrupted by a Madison Square Garden attendant who walked past those teens, as well as other fans who were by this time arriving, and came to Terry and I. He asked us to show him our tickets. I asked him why he needed to see them, and he replied that he needed to know if we were in the right section. Terry asked him why was he asking for our tickets, and not asking any of the people around us for theirs? His reply was “Never mind them. I’m asking you, and if you don’t show me your tickets, security can escort you out of here.”

We showed him the tickets, he looked at them, handed them back, and left. The teens who were in front of us snickered, but when the people arrived who had paid for the seats they were in they moved back to the seats they were properly assigned. When they played the national anthem, Terry and I did not stand. We sat silently, broken hearted.

That was long ago. Today when I attend sporting events, I stand for the national anthem. That is not to say that I do not experience fairly constant reminders that I’m not viewed as other Americans are; but time has passed, I’ve matured, and I react differently to different things. However, when I see people take offense to real life injustices and indignities, I understand it. This current controversy isn’t going to make me change my posture, but I understand those who will react differently. I have a son whom I worry about, whom I have worried about since he started driving on the roads in high school. I’ve been mistreated personally by policemen, and fear what some of them might do to my son. I have also been assisted by policemen, and have personal friends who are or have been policemen. The person who offended me most in this current situation is President Donald Trump, the opportunist who used this device for the purpose of dividing people, and appealing to our worst instincts.

While people are name calling and passing judgment about taking a knee or not, American citizens in the U.S. Virgin Islands and Puerto Rico are reeling from unprecedented challenges. I think of Turnbull from St. Croix and Jiminez from Santurce, who served with me in the military, and hope they are okay. I see the President focused on tweets about taking a knee when those guys may be somewhere trying to survive, and it angers me. I read his tweet about how irresponsible Puerto Rico is, as opposed to expressing sadness and determination to help those people, and it angers me. The next game I go to, when the national anthem is played, I will stand as I always do; but if I see Turnbull or Jiminez there and they are sitting, I would understand. And I wouldn’t question their integrity nor their patriotism. They’ve earned the right to be less than pleased.