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Kelly and I had grown up in a city where not a single black person lived. The one incident I'd had with the black boy at the swimming pool had been in another city were there were a few blacks, but certainly not very many. I suspect my incident with her was at least in part a fascination by our physical differences. At any rate, and for whatever reason, we had grown up without learning to hate, could not even begin to understand all the issues involved and the complexity of the situation. That's not to say that we had no prejudices, because that would be a lie! But we were completely oblivious to the imaginary line that ran through the center of Fort Wayne, dividing the city into black and white. We had been invited to a party by a black student we didn't know all that well. We had already learned that social lines had been drawn, but Christmas was coming fast and we couldn't afford to go home, so we'd determined to keep ourselves as busy as possible to ward off homesickness, so we agreed to go. I have no idea why we'd been invited, but we found ourselves the only white people there. In fact we were the only students, except for the guy who'd invited us and one or two others. The rest of the people were just black locals. No matter, we had a total blast! We sang, danced, joked and, yes, we drank! Or at least I did. Kelly was one of those very talented individuals who could and did act totally inebriated without having had a single drink! I cannot remember any of the details of that party except one: we met Dorothy. Dorothy, or Dot-o as we called her, was about our age, and as black as anyone we had ever seen.