I smile back and nod at him
It's late at night, and once again I'm grading exams -- a process by turns depressing and exhilarating: I swing between delight that this student got this question right and embarrassment that anyone could answer that question that way
The psychological roller-coaster takes its toll, and at three in the morning I head off for smokes and a cup of java
Convenience stores are a good place to practice the art of extremely brief conversation. I've had three sentence conversations with clerks about who to support in the fall and with police about accidents on rainy days or the various kinds of drunks
But the young black clerk takes me by surprise tonight: he wants to hear my recommendations about how to understand the world better
Nothing but platitudes come to mind. I tell him to learn about what interests him, because he'll be good at that; I tell him I read math for fun; and I tell him I've learned a lot about people by political door-knocking
But I feel unsatisfied going home. In some sense, I've failed him. I pull a book off my shelves and head back
"Do you know this book?" I ask, offering Pauli Murray's Proud Shoes
He doesn't
"Do you know who she was?" I ask, pointing to Murray's name on the cover
He doesn't
"Black lesbian," I say, "from this town. Tried to integrate UNC in the 1930s. They turned her down because she was black. Got her degree somewhere else. Then applied to Harvard law school. They let her in at first cuz they thought 'Pauli' was a guy's name. But then they found out she was a girl. Harvard didn't accept women then. Got her degree somewhere else."
"Wait a minute." He turns off the radio
"Did a careful study of segregation laws around 1950," I say. "Wrote a little strategy paper on how to attack them. It got handed around. Nobody gave her credit at the time but years later several lawyers said they followed her strategy to win Brown v Topeka. Califiornia's first black deputy attorney general. Later decided to become a minister. First black woman to become an Episcopal priest. They're rehabbing her house over by the cemetery. Talk to people. Some older ones might remember."
He slowly offers his hand for me to shake
Now it's three or four nights later. I'm back for another java
The clerks negotiate: on her way out, one thanks another for covering for her for a while as she sorts out life and family. Then she says, "It's good you didn't touch my bag so I don't have to break your hand" and heads towards her car
I'm listening to a young white customer tell the black cashier that he voted for Obama. There's a gentle tap on my shoulder. I turn
It's the young man I gave the book. He stands up straight and salutes. I smile back and nod at him
= new reply since forum marked as read
I felt like I was there. 
You never know who you are going to meet out on the road (
)and what opportunities may be presented to you. It sounds like both you and the young man have a valuable experience to look back on. It's a win for both of you.
