The kindest, most genuine man I’ve ever known carried a gun. My Daada (paternal grandfather) was born in India, sometime around December 1918. Record keeping was of no importance when the family elders documented everything in an oral history, sharing stories at multi-generational family gatherings, and offering up morsels to the younger generation to carry away and savor. Daada always had to work harder, prove himself worthy, be the best in sportsmanship, scholastics, and citizenship because the color of his skin- brown. Even though the Indian population was much larger and more diverse than the Whites ruling them, it was a...