The big and elegant trees on Beacon Street were gently moving with the cool morning breeze. For a fleeting moment he was taken to his native Tanzania where trees shuffled in the same way and to the same kind of breeze. He was happily reminded of the universality of nature, which he hoped would carry to the human world. How nice he thought it would be if we all responded to abuse and honor in the same way, equally sensitive.

Everybody he saw on the street noticed him amiably. His invisibility momentarily disappeared. He was thinking that there is nothing that good weather does not change. It has such a hold on our moods he said to himself, and then he laughed, and took a bite of the ripe banana that he was having for lunch. People were beside themselves as they emerged from a bitter cold winter and preparing themselves to embrace the New England Spring. A few were already in their shorts, so anxious to show their bodies to the world. Many were wearing light pants with white shirts, prematurely imitating summer attire. It was obvious; Francois thought that people are looking forward to the summer. For most people this particular winter had been long and cold.

Dogs were running with joggers. Squirrels were hopping from tree to tree. Cats were affectionately held on many porches of gorgeous colonial homes, and some were relaxed sitting by the windows and checking out the street scene. Other cyclists were huddled against cars on red lights. At one point, the cyclists, the strollers, the runners, and the casual walkers met at a red line. The cyclists tried to be the first to pass, but the runners blocked them, the walkers tried to catch up with the slow runners, but they would not let them. To make matters worse, the cars came and blocked everybody, and the impatient cyclists fingered the drivers, and the drivers screamed at them, and a stroller brought the matter to a policewoman who was on a break at a coffee shop. A policewoman appeared and broke the impasse. The scene charmed Francois. He spoke about that day so many times when the subject of the aggressive Bostonian was the topic.

Francois had to ruse his way past ferocious and notoriously impatient Boston drivers. He has his ways of putting them in their place, without ever loosing his cool. He was nearly hit a couple of times, but he adroitly cranked hard on his pedals and brilliantly overtook a rapacious driver without getting hit. The surpassed driver fingered him. Francois laughed it off. He even thought that he was called “Nigger”. Again he brushed it off from his soul and body, without letting it pollute his ideals of humanity, as he told a friend. He finally arrived on campus, went to his office and changed to his professorial garb, and entered his classroom in the nick of time.

As he always does, he put his textbook on the podium, cleaned his reading glasses, placed his lecture material on the podium, quickly gathered his thoughts, looked outside at the meadow, paced a few times, took a deep breadth, and said “Good morning students”