Colours

His name was Glen.  Not a bad name for a musician really.  There was Glen Miller, for a start -famous for those uplifting war-time songs.  Yes, Glen suited him.  He was music incarnate.  To see him on stage - why it was like music was pulsing through his veins.  He could play the guitar, the piano, he could sing and play the drums.  You could see it - he and the music just merged, became a symphony, right there in front of your eyes.  It was magic to behold.  And he always looked like he was having so much fun - you just had to smile.  Glen had that effect on you.
So many people loved him.  He'd helped so many people out - he'd started a project for the kids in the area.  Got them all together and started a big band.  Actually, it was more like an orchestra.  The parents loved him.  They knew their children always had a great time on a Saturday and they were relieved that it kept them out of trouble; unlike some of the kids in town, roaming around at a lost end.  With the little he had in terms of resources, Glen was making a difference to the small town he lived in, that was for sure.  Everyone knew his name.  But the trouble was, some people only saw his colour.  They saw him walking about town, saw the colour of his skin and made judgements about him.  Why they didn't even know him and yet they assumed they knew everything, all based upon the colour of his skin and the clothes he wore.

His name was Eric and oh my goodness, he was the most amazing actor.  So alive, so animated, so charismatic and so funny!  If you ever saw a performance by Eric, you'd remember it - that's for sure.  And off-stage too, he was a character.  Long hair, way past his shoulders, swinging in time with his laughter.  He could draw a crowd allright.  He always seemed to have a group of people around him, worshipping him and listening to his wisdom.  Just sitting a table away, you could hear the outbursts of laughter and merriment from his crowd.  He was just one of those men that people admired and respected.   We were friends for a while too and I can honestly say he changed me.  He made me think about things in a new way -  he opened my eyes.  But the trouble was, some people only saw his colour.  They saw him walking about town, saw the colour of his skin and made judgements about him.  Why they didn't even know him and yet they assumed they knew everything, all based upon the colour of his skin and the clothes he wore.

Tony was something else.  He had done so well for himself.  He was the first person in his family to get a degree and then he got another qualification, and then another, and he kept on going until he became a Professor, no less.  His family was so proud.  But he was also the nicest person you could ever hope to meet.  Always polite, always friendly, always courteous - despite his obvious academic success he was as down to earth as you could get.  He had no qualms about making friends with the cleaners or the road sweepers - everyone was the same to him, and he showed them all equal respect.  Hard-working yes, intelligent yes, but never ever stuffy.  And the way he laughed was infectious - Tony made you grin.  And grin so hard you forgot all about him being a Professor - he was just the same Tony that he had always been.  But the trouble was, some people only saw his colour.  They saw him walking about town, saw the colour of his skin and made judgements about him.  Why they didn't even know him and yet they assumed they knew everything, all based upon the colour of his skin and the clothes he wore.

Paul was almost a healer - he worked with disadvantaged youths.  Listened to them, and helped get them back on the right track again.  Often helping young youth offenders, he worked tirelessly with them - finding out what they enjoyed and then getting them signed up onto courses so that they could steer their life in a more positive direction.  He seemed to have a knack of understanding them, and making them feel valued and respected.  Whilst others shouted and moaned, Tony listened and gave them the time they needed to move forwards in life.  If you ever walked out on the street with Tony, you'd always be stopped.  A young man or girl would call out his name and say, "Remember me?  You helped me so much back then - thank you!"  It was as if the town was littered with all the people he had helped in his life.  His job title was Youth Worker but he was a healer allright.  But the trouble was, some people only saw his colour.  They saw him walking about town, saw the colour of his skin and made judgements about him.  Why they didn't even know him and yet they assumed they knew everything, all based upon the colour of his skin and the clothes he wore.

Tom was superbly gifted.  He could paint the most amazing picture in ten minutes flat.  Just like that!  A vision of splendidness, created, there, then and wow!  But it wasn't his artistic talent that made him stand out.  It was the way he was friends with everyone; old, young, white, asian, black, european, girl, boy, fat, thin - he didn't care, he'd be your friend.  And although he was incredibly talented himself, he always seemed to want to bring out the best in other people.  He was always encouraging them and inviting them to get involved in projects.  For one so young, he had a LOT of vision and if he crossed your path you would be inspired.  Just as if he'd sprinkled fairy dust - he brought hope into the darkest of days.  But the trouble was, some people only saw his colour.  They saw him walking about town, saw the colour of his skin and made judgements about him.  Why they didn't even know him and yet they assumed they knew everything, all based upon the colour of his skin and the clothes he wore.