We met on a commercial flight between Minneapolis and Detroit sometime in the late 1950s. He was Oriental. It was almost 15 years after the war. I don't remember his name, but I still have his business card somewhere in my desk. I'm not sure why I sat beside him. In those days the airlines still allowed you to pick your own seat. I could have sat with any number of people, or I could have sat by myself. For some reason I chose to sit beside him.

The plane took off, and after we had been flying for a little while I asked him if he was Japanese. He said yes. On an impulse I decided to tell him a story that I had just heard -- about a man who died and was given the option of going to heaven or hell. He decided to go to hell because he thought that was where his friends were most likely to be…