In the old days in Salt Lake City, Saturday was a big day for us minority kids. Most of us Mexican kids lived close to the west-side railroad tracks, and our treat-of-the-week, with a quarter from our parents, was to walk to the Capitol Theatre and watch the Tarzan film series. It was big.

Minority kids were directed to the balcony of the Capitol Theatre, as it was understood that the main floor was for white kids. After the movie, three or four of us Mexican kids walked to Main Street to spend the extra 10 cents we saved to buy a treat at our favorite store, Kress. It was fun because we got to walk in the store on Main Street between 200 and 300 South and take the exit on Broadway. We were in awe over the variety of merchandise, and the smell of clothing and sometimes mothballs.

When we walked in we heard the little bells placed on the counter to summon the clerks for service; but for us kids, we thought it was a secret signal, "Here come the Mexicans!" And as we walked around the store, we always felt that the clerks were watching our every move. As we made our way to the south entrance of the store on Broadway, we would spend our money at the candy counters where we caught the aroma of popcorn, hot dogs and coffee being served at the lunch counter.

As we grow older, some of us realize that people are too busy looking at themselves to worry about you. However, bias continues, and as I grow older I still experience it. Driving back from a trip to the West Coast in 1988, late at night, we were looking for a motel. After walking into the offices of two separate motels with "vacancy" signs, I was told there were no vacancies. In frustration, I turned to my non-minority wife and said, "You go in and get us a room." Needless to say, there was a vacancy, and we had a room for the night. I still get stereotyped sometimes as I shop at a local garden nursery, where customers assume I am one of the workers and ask me for directions to the tomato plants.

At one time or another, everyone feels the pain of being left out, ridiculed, teased, and that little things, as well as the big ones, can make us feel excluded from others. It happens all the time, like not being hired for a job. Some feel ostracized at school for being in the sparrow reading group and not the bluebirds, not making the tryouts, wearing clothes that are not the cool kind, stuttering, wearing glasses, not attending the same church. And it's worse when it happens to our loved ones.

That's what many minorities experience; when we have been treated differently in some instances because of the color of our skin, we often are left to wonder if it happens in other instances. "They" say we have come a long way when it comes to racial discrimination, yet we do the human thing, we see the world out of our own tinted lens, some white, black, brown and yellow.

What if we exchanged lenses, or better still, took them off? We would see each other as humans with more things in common. We all feel love, hurt, anger, hope, despair, regardless of our color or station in life. Maybe then we can all share in delighting in the world around us — smell the popcorn, hot dogs and together go watch old Tarzan films.

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Utah native John Florez has founded several Hispanic civil rights organizations, served on the staff of Sen. Orrin Hatch and on more than 45 state, local and volunteer boards. He also has been deputy assistant secretary of labor. E-mail: jdflorez@comcast.net