Directly across the street is the Civil Rights Institute. It is a multimedia museum and on this Sunday morning it was noticeably quiet. We were watching a television video which showed a couple of black children walking into the front door of a school, accompanied by members of the National Guard. There were many people watching the children, some with angry expressions on their faces. I felt the presence of someone standing behind me, and when I turned around, an African American gentleman asked if I saw the children on the screen. I said, yes, that I saw them and commented that they and their parents must have been very brave to let them be the first black children to enter this previously segregated school. He said, quietly, “Those are my children.” This began a conversation in which he told us about his children, I think it was a boy and a girl, and how he wanted them to have a good education, a better education than they had at their separate but not equal elementary school. He told us how they had gone on to college and graduated and were leading productive lives. I think he could see how interested we were, so he asked if we would like to have him take us around to other exhibits and offer his commentary. Well, of course we did, and it made this renowned museum even more memorable. At the end, I asked him if this was his job, to be a docent at the Civil Rights Institute. He explained that he volunteered to do this only on Sundays, and that his real job was as a barber. I asked him his name and if he would allow me to take a photo of him outside the museum. This photo of James Armstrong is among my favorite photos of all our trips.