It might have been around 1974. We lived in Florida. My mom taught first or second grade in a public school. She came home one day with tales of a youngster named Kwame who had an obvious crush on her. One day he came right out and straightforwardly told her he could not wait to grow up and marry her.

There was some good natured laughter amongst our family, at the precocious determination of this young fellow, as told by my mother. Over the remainder of the school year we'd occasionally ask if Kwame had made any other such pronouncements...

But when she would sometimes tell the story at dinner parties or with other whites at gatherings, I would note an undercurrent of... frankly... hostility and the loudly unspoken notion of 'This kid better get such fool-headed notions out of his head before he gets hurt.'

It was an eye opener to me, who was only a few years older than Kwame, and I think it was my first inkling that it was a dangerous issue for non-whites. At least, I don't remember thinking much of it before then, and being kinda scared for Kwame afterwards.