People are People

 

My daddy was a long-haul truck driver. He traveled all over the continental states, a little into Mexico, and a little into Canada. This was mostly during the 1990's and early 2000's. He was born in the 1940's. 

As a child, I asked him what the people in other places were like. I lived in a small town. 

I still remember his answer. People are people. Some are good. Some are bad. It doesn't matter where you go, you will find people that are nice and people that are mean. Skin color doesn't matter either. People are people.