I have to tell this story. . .
Years ago, back in about 1969, I used to play golf a lot with a group of guys, several of whom happened to be black. One day after we finished, my friend Howard Jackson found his car wouldn't start, so I gave him a ride home.
On the way, he wanted to stop and get a beer at a little neighborhood bar near his home. He opened the door and let me walk in first. It was like that old commercial where there is a general noise level, everyone talking, having fun. When I walked in there was instantly dead silence. Apparently there had never been a white guy in there before. My friend shut the door and quietly said, "He's good" and everything instantly returned to normal! After that I was always welcome there. As always, it's who you know!
My friends, times were different back then, especially in a small South Arkansas town, but I believe people are the same inside. The hard part sometimes is getting past pre-conceived expectations. I was blessed to be taught by my parents to treat every person as an individual. Heck I was raised on an Indian reservation and married a Cajun so I'm pretty much comfortable anywhere!