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Rites of Passage for Harold Neal Would you remember an imposing man with little to no gleam in his eye, seriously tall and narrow, who reminded you of all the jive hip cool jazz men (side swept tam included) your father brought to the house whose language was the richness being Black required in the time and place they learned to be bop? Would you recall his gaze as it revealed your most unadorned sel£ made you feel a speClmen. Surely you would wonder how time had settled on him; what mischief he was causing; for whom he was making things unpleasant. During the years you found no beauty in the mirror you'd invoke, with fondness, that day. In fact, would replay the scene in which you were surrounded by sun/wind/pavement, hiding behind the shoulder of your friend, as his father, the man with the Black Bottom eyes said dryly, "You are a beautiful young lady:' 19 You would revisit those words; would struggle with them, pulling and tugging, understanding, misunderstanding, until finally, time allowed that-if nothing else-a compliment should be accepted/acknowledged with grace, as somehow (with uncharacteristic meekness) you think you did. 20 ...

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