@ Smurfette Principle: Me, too. I'm six years old, so this would be 1938. I'm sitting in a parked car with my mother on a street in downtown Buffalo. My dad has dashed into a store for whatever. I had never seen a black person, and a group walks by. Excited as hell, I shout, "Mother, look at the niggers." It was simply a word I'd heard applied to blacks, and I was absolutely unaware of any connotations. My mother -- this little, bitty, 5' 2", 105-pound woman -- whirls on me and says, "They're not niggers! That's a bad word, and it hurts their feelings. They are people just like you and me, and I don't ever want to hear you say that again." Scared the doo-doo out of me. Seventy four years later, and I still don't use the word. I can honestly say that growing up I never heard a prejudiced word from my parents against anyone's color, or ethnic background, or political convictions, or religious beliefs. I think my mother and father were unusual not only for that time in this country's history, but for any time in any country's history.