This is an opinion column.

It was late October or early November 2008 — I don’t recall specifically. I remember the conversation, though, the words and emotions between a friend and I discussing the upcoming U.S. presidential election just days away.

On the ballot: Republican Sen. John McCain and running mate Sarah Palin vs. Democrat Sen. Barack Obama and running mate Sen. Joe Biden.

It had not been a particularly contentious campaign. Both presidential hopefuls were good men, decent men who set the tone for the battle and campaigned on policies, not personalities. On vision not vile.

Not that race did not at all intercede. With an African American as the nominee for a major party, it was futile to ignore the historical nature of the election. To ignore whether America, whose diversity was rising to its highest crescendo ever, was able and ready to step beyond centuries of racial animus, stereotypes, and myths.

Hell, it was 20 years since Doug Williams became the first Black NFL quarterback to win a Super Bowl. Yet no Black QB had won it since and there were only four Black starting QBs in the league that season.

America still wasn’t sure Black people could truly lead at the highest level of their most popular sport — let alone be POTUS.

Our chat: My friend’s biggest fear — she’s African American, too — was not that Obama would lose but that if he won, someone might try to take his life.

I won’t say the thought didn’t cross my mind, too (as I venture it did among almost all African American adults in that time), but I sought to reassure her with a few words about my faith and belief in God’s protection.

And this: “Should he win, I guarantee you two things will happen: He’ll have the best Secret Service protection in the history of Secret Service, and it’ll make white folks crazy.”

Now, from this perch 16 years later, I have no idea why I said those words. And, of course, I didn‘t mean all white folks. Some of my best friends, oh, never mind (see “Two mo’” below) …

Just know this: I was right. Maybe Obama’s election and subsequent eight years as the most powerful leader in the free world didn’t make anybody crazy. Maybe it just unleashed crazy that was already there.

Crazy still simmering amid the nation’s turbulent and twisted racial history.

Crazy lurking in backyards and basements where some insecure white people were beginning to feel threatened by the coloring of America.

Crazy twitching to blame someone or something for anything or everything and finding it (and them) at our southern border.

Crazy just beginning to tolerate its gay cousin but drawing the hell-naw line at their gender-fluid co-worker, friend, or neighbor. Or their child.

Crazy now trying to criminalize physicians seeking to fulfill their Hippocratic oath, yank books from public libraries, and inspect birth certificates outside bathrooms.

Crazy seeking to eliminate history that makes them feel bad,

Crazy tolerating lies and hate.

Crazy incessantly claiming voter fraud — they’re cheating — when there is none.

Crazy is where we are right now, days away from the most monumental presidential election in my lifetime.

And many are fearful. Fearful about what it will say about our country if the other party’s nominee is elected.

Fearful about what it will do to our country if the other party’s nominee is elected.

Fearful about our future.

Yet in this spooky season, on this day, on Halloween, I’m not scared. You shouldn’t be, either.

Oh, now indeed there‘s gonna be a whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on no matter who is elected. A whole lotta angst. A whole lotta anger.

A whole lotta fear.

Doesn’t scare me — for the same reasons I did not fear for Obama in ’08 or beyond. Because my faith trumps fear.

Faith in our Constitution, which has been assailed before yet remains unbroken.

Faith in our Democracy. While conceived by imperfect people, it remains the bedrock upon which we stand, in pursuit of a thus far-elusive more perfect Union.

Faith in us, the preponderance of us who seek to love our neighbors even if we don’t look like them, love like them, speak like them or know what pronouns they use.

Or who struggle to understand why they abandoned their homeland — usually risking their lives in so doing — to build new lives here. Even if they did so for the same reason your parents, grandparents or other ancestors did.

For those reasons and more, don’t be scared. Don’t let fear wrack your insides between now and Nov. 5 (or whenever we learn which party’s nominee is elected our 47th President).

Don’t even fear crazy. It usually trumps itself.

I was raised by good people who encouraged me to be a good man and surround myself with good people. If I did, they said, good things would happen. I am a member of the National Association of Black Journalists’ Hall of Fame, an Edward R. Murrow Award winner, and a Pulitzer Prize finalist for commentary. My column appears on AL.com, and digital editions of The Birmingham News, Huntsville Times, and Mobile Press-Register. Tell me what you think at [email protected], and follow me at twitter.com/roysj, or on Instagram @roysj.