Suddenly, a group of black boys burst in, boisterous but reasonably good natured. "Shavonne! Carmela! Feed us your sweet stuff," one boy cried while the others laughed. They arrived too late to see our interaction, which I strongly suspected was a good thing. The two young women went to work scooping more cones, so I slipped out the door unnoticed. I took one last look through the front plate glass window and just by chance met Shavonne's eyes a final time. She shot me a quick half smile and continued with her duties.
The Saturday after Christmas was a bitterly cold day, made all the more so by the wind chill generated by a bike ride. Riverview Park was a three mile hike from my house, almost two miles west along the Raritan River once I crossed the bridge. It was an equally treacherous j
