My Christian friend

There was a very nice black man who worked at Bloomingdale’s post office. He was the postal clerk. He was so kind to me. Sometimes I was late in coming from the Consulate with the mail and he used to wait for me. He used to tell me, “You are such a nice guy. Our priest would love you. I have to take you to our church.” How many times he begged me to come! I promised and promised, but I did not go with him.

Wherever I went in those days, people tried to convert me.