When I was a small child nine years old, a very stately lady in our church took charge of a project to find a needy family as recipient of some of our church’s Christmas food baskets. I knew very little about the lady except that she took charge of this project every year and that she was a staunch believer in the inferiority of black people. As we approached my ninth Christmas on this earth, the stately lady prevailed upon my mother to deliver the baskets to the family that was selected. On the appointed Saturday morning, Mother and I went to the church to complete the assignment. We helped the members of the lady’s Sunday school class gather and sort the canned goods, perishables, and cakes for delivery to our "poor person." After loading several boxes of the provisions into the car, we …