"We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature." Abraham Lincoln

Once upon a time, we lived in Florida in a beautiful gated, mostly white neighborhood.

There were some Hispanic families and black families  (including a Tampa Bay Bucs player).

We often took a brisk walk in the neighborhood before daylight.

On a Tuesday, Michael was walking alone.

A man followed Michael in his car. This man asked Michael for ID. He was quite agitated. From his position in the car it seemed as if he had a gun.

Michael said, "I live here. My house is just around the corner."

The man said he did not believe Michael and was going to call 911. Michael chose to ignore him. The car followed along, speeding up, braking and then driving up on the sidewalk - as if he might run him down.

My husband continued walking at a normal pace toward our home until he reached our driveway and entered the front door. The man, who was black, took off at high speed.

What if Michael had become angry or started running? What if a verbal altercation began or even a fight? Suppose Michael had reached in his pocket for his cell phone?

Maybe the man would have felt threatened and decided to "stand his ground."

Maybe - Maybe not.

The Florida house was sort of a dream house to us - lakeside with a swimming pool. A perfect subdivision neighborhood.

We talked about the incident and realized we didn't know our neighbors at all.

After work, we drove into our double or triple car garage, using automatic door openers and closed the door behind us like Batman retreating to his bat cave.

Life in Florida was never the same after the experience in the dark with a man we did not know.

Because of that interaction, we know the cold fear of being followed by someone who does not believe you belong in that place at that time.

This wasn't the only reason we left Florida - but it was an important one.

We now live in a mountain home in the Southwest. It has rocky, uneven land, and deep pine forests surround us with a large variety of wildlife.

No rules, no perfect lawns, no swimming pools, no postal service, no garbage pickup, no association standards to cramp anyone's style.

We wear dusty boots and jeans most of the time.

By Florida standards, this neighborhood would never be desirable, yet it is more than all right with us.

One day, after we had installed a new toilet, the old toilet was left sitting in the front yard (like an ugly odd ceramic planter) until trash day at the dump.

Quite a sight - A sight for sore eyes.

As we drove into our unpaved, dusty, rocky driveway, the toilet planter hoved into view sitting there alongside some old tires.

Michael said "Look Karen! We've finally arrived."

Funny guy, my husband.

We have not fully arrived (yet), but we have raised our consciousness a few levels. We know our neighbors, flaws and all. Now we think we live in a version of paradise.

Yesterday, we listened to our President speaking about the Trayvon Martin case.  His speech brought back the memory of a white man, being followed by a black man in the dark a few years ago.

Perhaps it isn't the jury's decision that is the problem, although it is a part of what is upsetting so many. Is it the undervaluing of the President's experiences like car doors being locked or purses held more tightly when he, as a young black man, walked by. We often dismiss or overlook the need to change that.

Some white individuals seem to think black people should get over it. My own father was so openly prejudiced that he would not eat chocolate ice cream. He said vanilla was superior! He used the N-word too.

African-Americans see through a long, long lens of experience which we can only imagine.

If black issues and frustrations are not valued, more negative historical context and division are created. Why can't we respect that? Shouldn't we?

In Florida, the color of the man's skin did not frighten us, but it is an interesting twist to the tale, isn't it?

What we gained from our Florida story was a moment of knowing, in a small measure, how life can be for people that don't happen to be white.

A minister said recently: "I want to live in a world where George Zimmerman offered Trayvon Martin a ride home that night in the rain."

Now that would be something, wouldn't it?

Could it happen in our America - the home of the free and the land of the brave?

I want to live in that world, too.