|Packer Training Camp|
If you recall, the first classmate that I met at the Human Resource seminar was my “next door neighbor”, John. He had the room next to mine and came knocking on my door minutes after I arrived. Given the proximity of our living quarters, John and I got to know each quickly and usually ate lunch together at the resort’s outstanding restaurant.
John lived in Milwaukee, commuted to Madison daily for his job and had just recently gotten married. I knew this because he often excused himself to call his bride. I recall one afternoon when he bolted out of the conference room the moment class ended. As he rushed down the hall, he smiled at me and said, “The wife drove up for a visit!” He was young and in love.
I have neglected to tell you one important thing about John. He was black and I now that I think of it, I would imagine that he still is. The color of a person’s skin doesn’t matter to me in the least. However, for this particular story it does have significance. Trust me, you will see.
Typically, our class was from 8:00 am to 4:00 pm with an hour off for lunch. Except for Wednesday, that was our short day. After an early lunch, we were free for the rest of the day.
It seemed like everyone had plans on how to spend their free time. Many of the ladies had planned to go shopping at the huge outlet mall located in Oshkosh, while others were going to enjoy Lake Winnebago.
Since the Green Bay Packer training camp was in full swing, I had decided to go watch the team practice. I asked the people seated near me in the restaurant if any of them were interested in joining me.
They all politely declined, except for John. He quietly said that he would like to go with. I told him, “Cool, let’s go” and got up from the table.
As we were walking toward the parking lot, John asked me if I was sure that it was okay that he was coming along. A bit perplexed, I reassured him with a loud, “Why not?” and we were on our way. The 50-mile trip on Highway 41 went by quickly and we arrived in Titletown less than an hour later.
Practice hadn’t started yet, so I chose to drive around Lambeau Field to give John a tour of the venerable stadium, driving slowly through the large parking lot.
As I carefully maneuvered my bulky silver-gray Dodge Ramcharger through the multitude of Packer fans milling about, some began approaching us. John’s eyes widened when the fans started waving at us and slapping the hood of my SUV.
When I noticed the Packer players were riding bikes and making their way from Lambeau Field to the practice fields across the street, I decided to get a parking space and find a spot for us to sit.
While walking to the portable bleachers, fans continued to wave at the two of us, many cheerfully shouting hello. When we finally sat down, John had a twinkle in his eye and said, “The people up here sure are nice. Thanks!” I smiled and told him it was no problem.
A heartwarming story, don’t you think? Now let me add a humorous twist to this tale.
Remember that I said it was significant that John was black? Well, not only was he black, but he was also tall, good-looking and put together well. In fact, he played varsity tennis in college. He was athletic look about him.
Now factor into the equation that we were in Green Bay, Wisconsin in the year 1990. At that time, there were not many blacks in Green Bay that weren’t playing for the Packers or a part of their organization. Especially athletic-looking young black men.
John was a young, athletic-looking black man at Lambeau Field in Green Bay, Wisconsin and it was 1990. He just had to be a Packer! At least that’s what those fans thought on that warm summer day.
I am sure that’s why they were so nice to John; they thought he was a Green Bay Packer. But thing is, if they actually knew John, they would have been nice to him even though he wasn’t a Packer. I know that I’m glad that he spent the afternoon with me.
Until next time…from the booth.