"It's not your average Black person

  that wants to kill you." The woman in the Sunday sun hat had electronically rolled down a tinted car window and that's what she said.  "It's not?" One of us white girls asked.  Another car window rolled down.  "They won't survive out there," another woman said around us at the first woman.  "We won't?" One of us asked.  "Not in this heat.  Let's go have ice cream." 

  About half a dozen vehicles pulled into a local Sonic.  People dug out the monies for refreshments.  "You gonna need a hat," I was warned.  I wiped the side of my cold cup on my beet red forehead.  I wanted to hear what these ladies had to say.  They'd each been in different educational courseworks and had met up with others they'd known in Knoxville in the past.  It had taken weeks of visiting and synthesizing actual information for them to talk about trends and possible solutions. 

  Some of the ladies' men joined the crowd gathering to cool off.  While the summer heat had been trying peoples' nerves, that summer in the 1990's there were a lot of people back home and in the area who were adept at mediating.  There'd also been people who'd gained the experience of working for the government, working with service orgs, traveled out of local, and come into using learned skills to better themselves and community.  So while there was a general panic about world money stuff and law and order taking the lead in society, there was also an emerging sense of making where you are (and where you are at) okay. 

  The ladies talking with us that day were social workers and paralegals and journalists but overall big job change and life decisions were the call of the times.  Putting together statistics with real people history was exciting for these ladies.  And they explained stuff like "anom-olies" and "radical-to-average".  They were able to not offend people, mostly, with how they formed up a big picture.  And though they couldn't stop people from being angry, they gave insights that helped people better understand why so angry.

  Their motherlode talk that day seemed to spark inspiration and a reasoning to stick with it--the grind of boring work, not ruining all relationship, not hating America. 

  "But I still don't have to like you," a very differently loyal person said to me as people were leaving to get on with the day.  "Hey, that's cool with me," I said.  And I meant it.  Armed with broad picture and some particulars had me most excited to get on with being professional--carpentry and sales and writing.