Everyone, including white people, sees it. Anne Bancroft, the previous year’s Best Actress winner, steps on stage to present the best actor award. She wears opera gloves and a white gown with spaghetti straps. Dark bangs brush her eyebrows. The camera zooms in. Her mouth opens. “The nominees for Best Actor are Albert Finney, Richard Harris . . . .” No applause. Faint, barely audible applause follows the reading of Rex Harrison’s name. Paul Newman’s name draws more audible applause. Clapping after Sidney Poitier’s name rings loudly and more sonorously than anything before. “One of us is winning the damn thing,” my grandmother says.
Keith Hood is a writer, former janitor, window cleaner, and field technician for a Michigan electric utility until his retirement after 32 years avoiding electrocution. Keithhoodwriter.com Twitter: @gatster