I spent the last few years in Abrams Court, trapped between the river and the train track. The train chief engineer had the end apt, next to ours. He would set down on his horn, stop the train and his wife would run his sack lunch (or breakfast) out to him. I got used to it, but when my brother came down for a visit (he'd never lived on that side of campus when he was in school) the horn went off at 3:00 AM and he went straight up in the air off the bed. We'd already had a 2:00 AM phone call because of a name confusion. Those were the days. The apt on the other side was occupied by the mother of the President of the White Citizens Council. She was nice to us, unlike our predecessors in our apt. She invited us out back for watermelon one warm fall day and, partway through my slice, I realized the guy I was talking to was the Grand Dragon, Shelton. He was complaining about DCH removing the "white" and "colored" entrance signs without a court order. For once, I didn't open my mouth with my real views. After all, he knew where I lived. Good old days...
