An hour of conversation

 The convenience store in the rural coastal village in the Carolinas where I visited my college roommate last month is a central meeting point for the good ol' locals who gather there at around 5 p.m. when the chartered fishing boats have come in and the carpenter hammers have fallen silent. Although my long-time friend is a New Yorker, as am I, he almost achieves a local status among the locals there because he is so personable. They like him. Maybe in another 20 years. 

We both spent an hour in the store sitting around when I was there, and I graduated from a feigned elbow bump upon introductions to a fervent hand clasp when we left because we both were very voluble and cogent among these equally intelligent Americans in the ensuing hour-long free-ranging conversation. The only time we both fell silent was when the discussion turned to whether the descendants of slaves in the vicinity were better off than if their forebears had never been abducted from Africa by slavers.

The consensus from these higher-degreed, educated boat and business owners was that yes, the likely-not-college-educated local blacks who mostly lived at or below the poverty level in America, given their opportunities here, were definitely better off here than if they had been born centuries later in their forebears' native continent, with their relative prospective opportunities there. 

It was a fascinating hour I spent listening that I'll never forget.