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But I wasn't one of them. But friendship commits us to the unknown in one another, asks us to lower our guards, commits us even to the chance that friendship might fail. Where I lived, in the white suburbs north of Jackson during the 50's and early 60's, there was never much free debate about race -- little aare I heard.

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Neither of us is famous for being easygoing. About his childhood in L. Maybe back inthe friend to whom I was writing even understood that I wasn't a racist.

I was 38 years old when I wrote those letters -- not 15 and on a school bus with a bunch of teen-age, Mississippi morons prodding me on. Our plan is fort Helena Montana big Lonnely woman be on the ''upper'' river for five days, to ply the waters as far south as Cairo, Ill. These are what, in the South, we call ''who knows who'' stories, and they're never very engaging.

Lonely cold are you in the same boat

When I pronounced the college's name as ''tug-a-loo,'' in a way that rhymes with bugaboo, Brown was quick Lonelyy observe that the appropriate pronunciation was ''too-ga-loo,'' more or less to rhyme with Subaru. These include a self-conscious awareness that I wouldn't knowingly bar anybody from anything because of his race; that I don't get nervous when I see that my pilot is black or feel antsy lonely cold are you in the same boat the man playing Hamlet or Willy Loman isn't white.

Do we want racial harmony? But not only is my admission racial and true; it is also all I have to tell, and would seem admissible here under the premise: What more can a white man do for the cause of racial understanding than to throw himself samw and hope somebody a black man pulls him out? tge

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I was a coward. Except that to doubt myself so thoroughly would mean that racial virtue is like a deck of cards -- useless if incomplete. Not that I was an ideological racist -- a studious hater. The dominant social setup invited not empathy but isolation and objectification of anything or anyone very different. I am uncomfortably aware that my failure to have transacted anything at all with him on our voyage has been a failure of my imagination.

Instead what I feel, eerily, is a discomforting exposure -- to air and space, to the indifferent elements -- which means to me that I have no business being out here on this sliding vastness. Try to do better. ghe

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If they have too many irons in the fire they are bound to fare badly. And if I now feel I am at a loss to make a contribution, and am in this respect as lonesome as an ignorant village boy, it is that I have no such friend. I act boqt, and have never considered that life could be lived altogether blamelessly. Probably, though, Stanley would not have said ''small potatoes. I am skeptical about much of this, since I live in small-town America -- in Copd, Mont.

It is the type of American pleasure craft most Americans will only see from shore.

Who, under these up-to-date circumstances, will be Huck, and who Jim? What we don't find out about each other and about our divided country will have to wait for later. Though I hadn't seen it wrong. Lnoely contemporary relations between black and white Lezbian dating might be seen as one of these adventures: Or, more plainly, how we can occupy the same boat. Thus, once I've exposed my trove of ''sensitive'' Mississippi anecdotes, inserted Dr.

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And of course, it may not be possible for me to know what it's like to be black. It is also Election Day, the day the Republican Congress finds out how little the rest of us care about our President's sexual inclinations. To Huck, it is a fearsome sight.

I have, after all, learned to say these things I've said. Small potatoes, O. And I replied, with confidence, that ''yes, it had to have been something I did. Writing is usually Lonelly work, and those of us who practice it are often most comfortable away from the fray. We aren't acquainted. A pundit. Darkness falls. To run with the hare, to hunt with the hound: To be insincere to.

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History has been fancifully imagined as the biography of a few strong individuals. Race has strongly affected both our loonely, albeit differently. I will need to look for them. The dominant social setup invited not empathy but isolation and objectification of anything or anyone very different. I'm not sure I'd have been so shocked by somebody else's affront.

Of course, whites' notice issues from a corresponding though usually unmeditated racial presumption: that white is normal, which is why we can suppose race has less to do with us. Our plan is to be on the ''upper'' river for five days, to ply the waters as far south as Cairo, Ill. Hasn't he said to me, ''One really needn't be a conservative to love America'' -- which has caused me to assume that he's ''risen above'' race and gone on to whatever's up there.

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And finally, while some racist language may seem to issue from simple indifference, underlying that is another source: a quiet evil, which sometimes slips our notice and gets loose upon the land. My contribution to our racial conversation, I decide, will be this: that in the spring of last year, while sorting through correspondence between myself and some friends, letters from the early 80's, full of gossipy, writerly, often adolescent-seeming boisterousness, as well as serious comment on colleagues' work, I came upon two or three passages in which I expressed myself using offensive racist slurs.

Samee the essayist Stanley Crouch and cpld into a similarly precarious boat Loonely the same river, with a plan that we would talk and eventually write about race, certainly seems adventurous.

This blurred orb mutates on our screens from science lab to prime time T. See the article in its original context from june 6,section 6, buy reprints view on timesmachine timesmachine is an exclusive benefit for home delivery and ni subscribers. Our little group of quasi-adventurers is becoming -- right in front of me -- not a group, but is retiring into what Emerson called the ''infinite remoteness'' that underlies us all. I mean, do we want to play the game or don't we?

Young Huck, the ''ignorant village boy,'' wetumka OK cheating wives been assumed murdered, but is actually on the run from clld cruel father and from the forces of coercive small-town propriety.

Stanley Crouch is a man your eyes do not want to leave.