Those Liberal Kids, Postscript
At the veterans’ band concert today, our favorite saxophone player told me that he remembered my external hard drive, this time, now with a complete copy of his music collection.
You only had to call me a liberal once. Boy, I did not like that.
He laughed, and seemed to mean that jokingly — there was still that slightest trace of resentment. Not at all ironically, liberal precepts — tolerance towards others, and ignorance of stereotype — would have saved him a little grief.