Regan's Discovery

“My whole life we were taught that the colored folk was always less than.” Regan could not believe what her eyes were reading, she continued “My daddy always said that us white folk were the superior race, over the colored and the Indians. He told us they are less human and they feel less pain, yet the wretched screams all of those black skin people will haunt me in my dreams until the end of time.” The twisted feeling in her stomach became nausea, she sat down with the dusty and fragile little black book in her hand. She could not fathom what she was reading but for some reason, she could not stop. She took her jacket off so she could get comfortable, she took a long drink of water with her eyes shut tight then proceeded to read. “The burnings and bullets lasted for three days, I never thought I would be feeling this array of emotions but I feel empathy for the colored. There were a lot of innocent people, women and children included that were slaughtered here in Nashville, it triggers something in me. I have these strange feelings inside of my body, I feel the pain of the slaughtered. Though they may be people of color, I truly believe that they feel pain as we do. My daddy and pawpaw made my brothers and I volunteer with the Klan to help round up the bodies. There was so much blood and gore, more than any person should see in one lifetime. It makes me question everything they taught me; if we are so superior and different from the colored folk, why do we bleed the same? If their children are not like our children, then why did they cry in agony over their parents' corpses? If they are so brainless, how did the community they built make millions of dollars, without any assistance from the whites? My head is on a swivel, my brothers are celebrating the takedown of the once-thriving colored-only city, but I cannot. It makes me wonder why we are taught to hate them so.” Regan sat the book down to process what she had read. She knew of her family’s past involvement in the KKK all of those years ago but to see the physical evidence, here in a journal from her great-great-great-grandfather, made her feel sick to her stomach. Being a blue-eyed, blonde-haired teen in 2018, she didn’t hear things like this in such detail. Yes, racism is alive and well in America, however, to see the words written by someone she was related to was overwhelming and disappointing, to say the least. She had only come over to her great-grandparents' house to help them clean out the attic but instead, she discovered things about her family she can never forget. She started looking through the suitcase she found the little black book in and began to cough from the dust particles flying through the air. It seems as if the suitcase hadn’t been opened to since it was last closed all of those years ago. There were so many items inside that told a story but she noticed an old sack that was rolled up at the bottom of the suitcase. She pulled on the sack but it was caught on something in the case, the harder she yanked the harder it resisted. Bang! She fell back knocking the case, its items and the book over on the floor. “Dammit!” she shrieked. Regan started picking up what she knocked over in frustration, when she got to the book, that overwhelmed feeling started to overtake her body. As much as she was disturbed by what she was reading she couldn’t help but feel the need to finish it, so she picked up the rest of the suitcase’s items and continued where she left off. “I personally never had a problem with the colored but my kin hates them so. They try to get me to the klan meetings but I do not care to hate. As long as they do not take from me I could not care any less what they do, but their very existance makes my kin's blood boil and I will never understand why. The colored folk have their own community just down the road from here or at least they did up until 3 days ago. They burned everything and every person that tried to refute it because of what they were up to. The last klan meeting before the riot was held in our barn; they were hoopin’ and hollerin’ so loud I went out to see what the fuss was about. They were infuriated because not only had these folk been self-sufficient, they had come up with their own currency that would actually devour the US dollar in whole! The klan leader was almost in tears with how upset he was, he could not believe the black man was now in a position to be equal or even richer than white men. Their banks held millions, their properties and possessions were abundant and that did not sit well with the klan AT ALL.” Regan could not stop reading. “So in the middle of the night, the Klan and other outraged white folk raided their communities. They set fire to everything, they looted and killed anything with black skin, no matter how big or small.” Regan’s eyes began to swell. “I myself did not participate in these activities, I do not believe in senseless killing. I was however forced to participate in the cleanup. They assigned me to the colored folk's bank, it took me four days to clean alongside three other fellas. On the last day, we found a secret tunnel leading to a vault. When we got the vault open we found something that you will never find in the history books hundreds of years from now…. It was cash with the blacks on it! I have never seen anything like it. I did not believe it to be true when the klan leader told everyone, I did not think it to be possible but behold, it was almost four million in colored dollars sitting in front of us. All three of the fellas ran to get the klan members, they were overjoyed to show them what we uncovered. I haven’t the slightest idea why, but without thought, I grabbed the first sack that I saw and stuffed as much as I could fit in it then hid the sack in my jacket before the whole lot came in. I took $20,000 to be exact. I know I could never spend it because it wasn’t real money for us, but I was so fascinated by it. I wanted to take it home and really examine it on my own." With wide eyes Regan looked over at the old sack she just picked up, she looked back down at the little book and continued reading. “Moments later the lot came in and filled the vault to capacity, everyone was so eager to see money with blacks on it. I will never forget the look of terror and fear on the klan leader’s face when we saw the money, he spat on it repeatedly. He then lit a cigar and threw it on the money and ordered everyone out, he had the boys close the vault and lock it so no one could ever get in again. He made us vow to never mention this to anyone, he said what we witness today should be erased from our brains forever. I will never forget what happened or what I saw, I never did tell anyone I took the $20,000 because I was fearful of what would happen to me or my kin. When the smoke clears and everything dies down, I am packing up all of my belongings and I am heading north. This is entirely too much to bear; how can I live here knowing what was done to the blacks? I might not know a lot about them, but I believe with all of my might that they have souls and God created them, we are supposed to love all of God’s creations. I will try and learn more about the colored folk when I head north, they cannot be as vile as they say I just simply refuse to believe that and I am going to get my proof.-- Sincerely signed, Rudolph Goodman” Regan was in shock. She walked back over to the suitcase and grabbed the sack, she knew what she would find inside just by the weight of it. $20,000 with black people on it; both women and men in beautifully dressed gowns and suits. She could not believe what was in her hands right now. She had something that can change the history and the proof that it existed. “Regan!” she heard coming from below the attic where she was, “Regan dear are you still ruffling through your pawpaw’s things? I made you lunch with fresh strawberry lemonade, come on down.” Regan had been so lost in her findings she hadn’t realized she had been in the attic for hours. She made her way down to the kitchen where she found her great-grandparents casually waiting for her to have lunch. “Go wash your hands dear, and what’s in that old sack?”