The most dramatic incident of my childhood happened when I was eight and my oldest brother was eighteen. Saving to go to college, Bruce got a job at the local McDonalds in Bethesda, MD, where he commuted by borrowing our uncle's sports car. His co-workers, clearly jealous of his car and his future plans, picked on him. One night, unbeknownst to Bruce, some of his co-workers followed him to our home. In the middle of the night, we got a phone call from our neighbors,"Your car is on fire. We've called the fire station." The car was destroyed as well as one of our heritage magnolia trees. Lucky for us, our house stayed intact and none of us were injured. The investigators never identified the arsonists, but the message seemed clear to our family.
To me, the role of multicultural books have never been more important than now and this article just reinforces it to me.