Marilyn was married to Bobby Thomas, also from Mrs. Henderson’s class. She contacted Marilyn, they exchanged e-mails, then phone calls. She learned that Marilyn and Bobby had been married for thirty-five years, had three grown sons, Bobby was a pediatrician, his brother Barry an attorney in San Francisco. In successive conversations Dina and Marilyn relived their days at Jefferson Elementary School so long ago, the dance days, the show-and-tell days, the talent shows, the book reports.
        “Why did you ever befriend me in the first place?” Dina asked one time.
        “Why? Because you were the most beautiful and confident person in the class. I was just drawn to you.”
        “Really?” Dina challenged. “I always saw myself as a frightened little nerd. You were one of the cool kids. I never understood why you were willing to have anything to do with me.”
        “Wow, that’s not how I remember it at all,” Marilyn said. “There was a pause. “Mrs. Henderson was mean to you. I couldn’t believe some of the things she said. She couldn’t get away with that kind of racial abuse today.”
        Dina reflected on this. “I don’t think poor Mrs. Henderson was ready for integration. She was probably happily doing her job, then one day found herself at ground zero. I’m sure she never dreamed she’d ever have black kids in her class.”
        Marilyn was less charitable. “She was a racist bitch.”
        Dina smiled. “You have to remember; she was brought up in a different era. She didn’t know any better.”
        “You’re not bitter?”
        “No. What good would it do? And I’m sure that if Mrs. Henderson and I met today . . .”  She stopped. “Actually, I’m not sure what would happen if we met today. But it’s not worth stressing over. All that is in the past.”
        “But the memories are always with us.”  
        Dina sighed. “Yeah.”      
        They would spend many hours reliving those days fifty years before, their shared recollections a comfortable refuge from the harsh colors and jagged edges of the here and now, no doubt made comfier and more nostalgic for being in basic, uncomplicated black and white.