One day, many years ago, I was working in my college bookstore when this guy walks in wearing a T-shirt. “White Power,” it said.

I was chatting with a friend, Cathy Duncan, and what happened next was as smooth as if we had rehearsed it. All at once, she’s sitting on my lap or I’m sitting on hers – I can’t remember which – and that white girl gives this black guy a peck on the lips. In a loud voice she asks, “So, what time should I expect you home for dinner, honey?”

Mr. White Power glares malice and retreats. Cathy and I fall over laughing.