ABSTRACT
Rereading this book I remember bits of the experiences in which it originated—moments left out or glancingly treated that grew more resonant with time. An evening, for instance, outside a bar/beer store in the town of West Point, Mississippi in the summer of 1966.1 had just come south to teach black kids who were about to enter integrated schools (see “Mississippi Learning”). Plane from Hartford to Memphis, down the road in a rented car to Mary Holmes Junior College in West Point, some nervousness on the way. (“Orientation materials” had passed the word that state police trailed strangers from the north and I kept thinking I saw them.)
