Me and the Wizard

What was my most vivid memory of the day?

It was how white everything was--pure white!

No, put that thought out of your mind. That is definitely not what I was just thinking.

What I had in mind was the color of their clothing--not of their skin.

That is what was on my mind on that day nearly 25 years ago as I walked closer to where a small group was marching back and forth on the sidewalk, its members carrying signs that you had to squint to read from the street.

The group's members called themselves loyal members of the Ku Klux Klan--and I had no reason to doubt them. In fact, they proved proudly that they were card-carrying members a short time later. It didn't occur to me until I was driving away an hour later that anyone could have any sort of card printed, but I don't think I would have doubted the group anyway. I had no doubt that these were real Klan members. You could read their faces as well as their signs to see their mission, their resolve and their determination.

But that is not where my attention was at first. I just could not get over the color of their robes and hoods. The clothing was a white so bright that it reflected a bright blue back at the Oklahoma sky overhead. Maybe it was my imagination, but it seemed as though you probably could look hard and see the puffy, floating clouds drift by--an image reflected on their robes.

I had walked up to the scene after returning to my car to grab a reporter's notebook and thought, "Gawd, I wonder how come these folks can't get some sort of laundry detergent commercial?" Immediately, I caught the flaw in my logic and refocused on my assignment of the day.

I was off to see the Wizard--the wonderful Wizard of Uh's. Bad pun, huh? Sorry, but this is a true story. I really did call him that. It was a pet name that I never did tell him about, and now I'm a bit ashamed that my first instinct was to make fun of someone because I didn't understand that person. How ironic, right? Judgment without an attempt at understanding is how hate and other deep emotions begin.

Oh, his official title was the Grand Imperial Wizard of the Royal Knights of the Ku Klux Klan or something like that. The title was so long that it stretched all the way across the bottom of his business card and threatened to fall off the side. However, in describing my contact for this story to my assigning editor, I jokingly called him the Wizard of Uh's--because he never seemed to finish a sentence. He would say, "Uh," then he would skate away from completing the full quote that I wanted for a story as sharply as a figure skater does a 180-degree turn on a sheet of pure white ice to glide to the other side of the rink.

On this sun-baked day, I remember waiting and watching for a couple of minutes before approaching the person I guessed was the leader of the small group protesting outside of a suburban Oklahoma City abortion clinic. It wasn't a difficult guess to make. He was wearing the same type of flowing white robe as the others, but his was decorated with many more patches, including what appeared to be German Army military symbols and confederate flags on each shoulder. He and the others looked very impressive as they marched up and down the sidewalk in front of the clinic. Cars passing by slowed down so drivers could take longer looks. Some wore expressions of shock. Others seemed pleased and a few stuck arms out windows, waving thumbs-up expressions of support.

As for me? I could not get over the whiteness of it all.

My first question to...