I Hate Hitler
Mother was walking home from North Waco Elementary School with me. This was the only time I can recall Mother ever coming to school to get me. I still had no idea why. As we approached Summer Avenue we stopped at the curb to look for any oncoming cars before crossing the street. As we stood there, I noticed she was fighting back tears. I knew then something was wrong. She looked down at me and said in a soft voice, “_________ was killed by the Germans.” Suddenly I got a lump in my throat and fought back tears. I blurted out, “I HATE HITLER!” Mother’s said quietly, “No. Don’t hate Hitler; just hate what he has done.”
As she spoke, those words were indelibly marked in my mind; and since then I have never really hated a person,…(oh, well,–with possibly a couple of exceptions which I may have to face up to on Judgment Day. And, with that on my conscience, I find it’s more convenient to hate the action(s) rather than the person. But, even if I can forgive, I cannot forget, lest I be duped again by “another of those ruthless ones.” Also, I recall that we will be forgiven even as we forgive. I still have a bit of a problem there.)