PART I
TEN MONTHS
1
Introducing Rodrigo
IN WHICH RODRIGO AND I MEET IN AN UNLIKELY SETTING AND RESOLVE TO DISCUSS POSTDIVERSITY RACIAL REMEDIES
âProfessor, is that you?â
The familiar voice from behind gave me quite a start. Wheeling around so suddenly that my cart almost collided with that of an oncoming shopper, a young woman who smiled at me indulgently, I sputtered, âRodrigo! What are you doing here?â
The tall, smiling youth strode out from behind his own cart, shook my hand warmly, and said, âGiannina and I are in town for a few days, staying with her mother, who has a time-share condo here. She uses it every summer to get away from the Florida heat. The two of them are making plans for when the baby comes, then in about a week weâre heading for Mexico for a few daysâ vacation. We tried calling you, but the law school says your voice mail has been down.â
âI never much cared for the new technology,â I said, then motioned toward his supermarket basket, which was piled high. âLooks like youâre stocking up.â
âGianninaâs mom has to start over every time she comes to town, because the previous tenants are required to clean everything out. She gave me quite a shopping list.â
âIâve got a long one myself,â I said, easing my basket along the aisle and motioning him to follow. âWhat a nice surprise. We must get together before the two of you take off.â
âGiannina made me promise to set something up. I was going to drop by your office on the way home and leave a note if I didnât find you. Mrs. Pellegrini said we should invite you over for tea. Sheâs interested in meeting you. Oh, here are the anchovies.â Rodrigo took a small tin and added it to his already overflowing basket.
âIâd be honored,â I said. âHow is Giannina doing these days?â
âFine, except that she has these strange cravings. Just the other day, she wanted a peanut butter sandwich with anchovies on the side.â
I smiled, remembering the time, many years ago, when my late wife had been pregnant with my own two daughters. âAnd what is her mom like?â
âYouâll like her,â Rodrigo said. âSheâs an ardent environmentalist. In fact, sheâs at a meeting of the local wildlife federation right now.â
âThen I know just the present for her,â I said, reaching for a long, narrow box of transparent sandwich wrap that I used to pack my lunches for work. Then, after a pause to allow a pair of fast-moving teenagers with baskets speeding down the aisle to clear us, I said, âAnd what are you working on these days?â
âOh,â replied Rodrigo, frowning and peering closely at two pricing labels for almost identical-looking packages of crackers. âLetâs see, this one looks like itâs . . . twenty-four cents an ounce, while this other one . . . okay, Iâll take this one. . . . Oh, what am I working on? Well, Iâve got my vacation reading right out in the car, as a matter of factâfour books on the current racial scene. An advance copy of the National Urban Leagueâs State of Black America, 1 Terry Eastlandâs diatribe against affirmative action,2 Bowen and Bokâs The Shape of the River, 3 and The Good Black.â4
âThatâs quite an assortment,â I said, slowing down to round the corner of the aisle and head down the next. âWhat made you select those four?â
âJust keeping up on my reading.â Rodrigo paused a moment at the meat counter to scrutinize some pink-looking filets of salmon. âMmmm. Those look good. Giannina and her mother love salmon. But, as I was saying, after reading three of them and nearly finishing the fourth, a hypothesis occurred to me. I was just starting to talk it over with Giannina when an old friend stopped by to drop off a baby present, so we had to put it on hold. Maybe we can discuss it when you come for tea.â
âSounds good to me,â I said. âIâve read Eastland, which struck me as a particularly remorseless dissection of affirmative action, as cold and uncaring as Iâve seen. And of course Iâve read Bowen and Bok, which everybody has been talking aboutâeven the tables and charts. I asked the librarian to get me The Good Black the other day. But I havenât seen the latest from the Urban League.â
âI can lend it to you when we get outside,â Rodrigo said, fishing his credit card out of his wallet and holding it in his teeth as he slid a heavy bottle of water onto the lower shelf of his shopping cart. âGianninaâs mom drinks only the bottled kind. She said we would too, if we saw A Civil Action. 5 Oh good, thereâs not much of a line.â
As we waited for the checker to finish ringing up the purchases of the shopper ahead of us, I asked Rodrigo, âWhere in Mexico are the two of you going?â
âA little fishing village in Baja California,â Rodrigo replied. âOne of my colleagues told me about it. Itâs not too touristy, and the prices are lower than in the big resorts. We decided to go before Giannina gets too uncomfortable to travel.â
âSend me a postcard,â I said. âIâll be down there myself on my semester off. But that wonât be âtil a few months later. Iâm afraid we wonât cross paths.â
Rodrigo paused as our cashier rang up the final items and handed him the bill. He examined it quickly, then handed the cashier his credit card. âMy mother-in-law said to give you these coupons,â he said.
Minutes later, we were wheeling our baskets through the supermarketâs huge parking lot. âHey, you parked practically next to me,â Rodrigo said. He opened the hatchback of his little car, and I helped him stow his groceries inside.
âThanks,â Rodrigo said, opening up the back passenger-side door and reaching inside. âHereâs the National Urban League book. Now, let me help you with your stuff.â
He did, and after exchanging phone numbers and promising to get together soon, we drove off to our respective destinations. Rodrigo was true to his word. When I returned to my apartment, I heard Gianninaâs familiar voice on my answering machine inviting me to her momâs place the following Thursday for tea and thanking me for making sure that Rodrigo got all the food items she wantedâespecially the anchovies.
IN WHICH RODRIGO, GIANNINA, MRS. PELLEGRINI, AND I DISCUSS RECENT BOOKS DEALING WITH AMERICAâS RACIAL PREDICAMENT
âGood afternoon,â I said. âAre you Mrs. Pellegrini?â
The handsome, white-haired woman standing at the doorway took my hand, smiled warmly, and invited me inside. âYou must be the Professor. Welcome. Giannina has told me so much about you. It looks like you brought something.â
âItâs for you,â I said, handing over a package I had wrapped myself. âOpen it now, if you like.â
After ushering me into the attractive, sunlit condominium, Mrs. Pellegrini tilted her head and looked at my rectangular, flat package with interest. âIt must be a stuffed animal,â she laughed.
As she began removing the wrapping paper, I said, âI hope you donât already have one. Rodrigo told me youâre an environmentalist.â
âOh, an animal clock!â she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. âA friend of mine has the bird kind that plays songs every hour on the hour. Iâve always wanted one like this.â Looking at it closely, she said, âIâve got the perfect place for it.â As she picked it up and motioned me to follow her in the direction of the kitchen, I heard the sound of familiar voices and noted to myself the resemblance between mother and daughter.
An attractive womanâmaybe after the young ones head off to Mexico, Iâll ask her to lunch. I hope Giannina wonât be scandalized, I thought, and cautioned myself not to be too forward. Perhaps a sedate invitation to a lecture at my university, followed by a bite to eat at a campus restaurant. Surely the young people could not object; she is, after all, about the age my late wife would have been had she lived. And I had been wanting to learn more about environmentalism, especially the new environmental justice movement. But I warned myself to proceed discreetly, remembering how the young often did not like to think of their elders as having any sort of social life and not wanting to jeopardize the fine relationship I enjoyed with Rodrigo and Giannina.
âOh, there you are,â Giannina said, looking up from some two-person cooking project with which she and Rodrigo were busily engaged. âWe hope you like Italian soup. Weâre making it for later, in case we get hungry after tea and cookies. What do you have there, Mom?â
Mrs. Pellegrini showed the two young people her present, which brought much laughter and exclamations as she plugged it in and turned the hands to the various animal positions.
âThereâs a way to turn it off at night, if you want,â I said. âThe instructions are in that plastic bag over there. The warranty, too.â
Rodrigo covered the large pot, adjusted the heat to low simmer, and took off his white chefâs apron. âCome on out,â he said. âEverythingâs ready.â
We followed Giannina as she carried the tea and cookies on a tray to the dining area adjacent to the kitchen and placed them down on the table, which I noticed was nicely set. A far cry from my bachelor simplicity, I thought, stealing another glance at Mrs. Pellegrini, who was adjusting a spray of yellow flowers in a glass bowl on the table.
âHave a seat, Professor. Why donât you sit over here next to me? That way, we can keep an eye on the young people and make sure they donât get into trouble.â
I laughed and pulled the chair out for her. She smiled, thanked me, then said, âI know Rodrigo and Giannina have been waiting all week to talk to you about some books theyâve been poring over. Go ahead and donât worry about me. I taught at the community college before I retired, including classes in government and U.S. history. I know next to nothing about law, but Iâm willing to make the effort.â
Rodrigo thanked her and immediately got up and brought some familiar-looking books from the hutch nearby and set them next to him on the table. They were the same ones he and I had discussed in the supermarket the other afternoon.
âMay I offer you a refill, Professor, before my son-in-law gets started?â Mrs. Pellegrini asked. âBy the way, you can call me Teresa.â
As Rodrigo looked up expectantly, I took the bait: âAnd so, Rodrigo, you have a hypothesis of some sort. Something that occurred to you on reading those four books?â
âI do,â Rodrigo said, smiling. (Heâs never at a loss for an intriguing theory. Their baby is going to be really something, I thought, catching a glimpse of Gianninaâs mother out of the corner of my eye as she reached to pass around a plate of some sort of homemade cookies.)
But instead of pursuing Rodrigoâs theory right away, I said, âBefore you jump into that, maybe we should take turns summarizing the four books. Your mother-in-law may not have read them all.â
As Mrs. Pellegrini smiled appreciatively, Rodrigo looked up at Giannina and said, âWhy donât you start?â
NATIONAL URBAN LEAGUE, THE STATE OF BLACK AMERICA
âI read the first book, The State of Black America, 6 the other afternoon, while waiting for a baby shower to start. It almost ruined the event for me. The editors of this annual volume, published yearly since 1976, commissioned nine authors to write essays on the African American condition. The general tenor is measured, even upbeat at times. Yet I was struck by how far this country has to go to make good on its civil rights promises. In one way or another, most of the chapters deal with barriers to upward mobility. Essays on building community7 and the racial asset gap8 focus on economics and the dire need to provide development and jobs to a community whose lower end, at least, seems to be slipping further and further behind. Community revitalization programs are fighting a losing battle9 as the nature of the workplace changes and jobs leave the inner city for the suburbs.â10
âOr even abroad,â Rodrigo pointed out.
âIndeed,â Giannina continued. âPeriodic economic expansions have not helped African Americans, because they create jobs mainly in information technology and computers, sectors containing few blacks. And when a contraction sets in, theyâre the first fired. Recent reforms force welfare recipients into part-time jobs that go nowhere, instead of providing full-time jobs with a future.â11
âOne essay points out that neighborhood joblessness is in some respects worse than poverty,â12 Rodrigo chimed in. âEmployment provides an anchor of disciplined habits, along with a cluster of hopes and attitudes. These are passed on to children, who see their parents getting ready for work in the morning, depositing a paycheck, giving them their allowance, and discussing their hopes for a promotion. With technology and the suburbanization of jobs, more advantaged or stable families leave the inner city, accelerating the decline in essential services. Over time, conditions deteriorate to the point where employers will not hire anyone from inner-city neighborhoods, a sort of statistical discrimination.â13
âAnother problem the authors point out has to do with schools,â14 Giannina went on. âTwo chapters warn that creation of new state and national standards for school achievement will do little good without better teaching, curriculum, textbooks, and buildings. The reduction in number of low-skilled jobs means that education is even more necessary than ever. But spending disparities ensure that schools in poor neighborhoods, the ones most in need of the best teachers and computers, possess few of either. Tracking assigns African Americans and Hispanics to low- level, dead-end classes, while suburban kids learn computer programming and how to navigate the internet.â15
When Giannina paused as though to remember a final chapter, Rodrigo jumped in: âWhich brings us to politics. Even modest electoral gains by African Americans, due to federal intervention and the increase in numbers reaching voting age, have done little to improve the quality of life in the black community. Coalition- building has been a problemâblack politicians need to court whites, thereby diluting programs and political strength.â
âRight,â Giannina said. âColin Powell raised the hopes of African Americans but, unfortunately, his presidential campaign went nowhere. He now seems content to play second fiddleâalthough he does that very well. The book closes with appendices on African American demographics and vital statistics on education and earnings, including the disconcerting news that the racial gap in col...