One summer day my father sent me to buy
wire for our farm. At 16, I liked{{U}} (36) {{/U}}better than driving
our track, {{U}}(37) {{/U}}this time I was not happy. My father had told
me I'd have to ask for credit(赊账) at the store. Sixteen is a{{U}}
(38) {{/U}}age, when a young man wants respect, not charity. It was
1976, and the ugly{{U}} (39) {{/U}}of racial discrimination(歧视) was{{U}}
(40) {{/U}}a fact of life. I'd seen my friends ask for credit and then
stand, head down, while the store owner{{U}} (41) {{/U}}whether they
were "good for it." I knew black youths just like me who were{{U}} (42)
{{/U}}like thieves by the store clerk each time they went into a
grocery. My family was{{U}} (43) {{/U}}. We paid our
debts. But before harvest, cash was short. Would the store owner{{U}} (44)
{{/U}}us? At Davis's store, Buck Davis stood behind the cash
desk, talking to a farmer. I nodded {{U}}(45) {{/U}}I passed him on
my way to the hardware shelves. When I brought my{{U}} (46) {{/U}}to the
cash desk, I said{{U}} (47) {{/U}}, "I need to put this On
credit." The farmer gave me an amused, distrustful (不相信的){{U}}
(48) {{/U}}. But Buck's face didn't change. "Sure," he said{{U}}
(49) {{/U}}. "Your daddy is{{U}} (50) {{/U}}good for it."
He{{U}} (51) {{/U}}to the other man. "This is one of James William's
sons." The farmer nodded in a neighbourly{{U}} (52)
{{/U}}. I was filled with pride. James William's son. Those three words had
opened a door to an adult's respect and trust. That day I
discovered that the good name my parents had{{U}} (53) {{/U}}brought our
whole family the respect of our neighbours. Everyone knew what to{{U}} (54)
{{/U}}from a Williams: a decent person who kept his word and respected
himself{{U}} (55) {{/U}}much to do
wrong.