Before my grandpa built his own church, we went to the neighboring town, and it was a white community. You know, up north, mostly middle European people and Indians, Chippewa Indians. We were welcome to that church, but once we got in, they didn't know what to do with us.
“In 1989, I was on Tiananmen Square with the students, living in their makeshift tents and joining their jubilant singing of the Internationale. In the two decades since, each time that I have gone back, visions from those days seem to return with increasing persistence.”
“One thing led to another and I didn't have to take tickets any more because I now worked for Mr. Rogers. He said if I was going to take care of his horses than I'd better learn how to ride. He was very kind to me.”