Pulling out all the contents of my dark brown leather wallet Karenlooked me in the eyes, "Sissy, I want you to throw this nasty boywallet in the trash...right now, do you understand?" Yes ma?am," I said while rising to my feet, taking my old wallet andgoing to the kitchen. Tossing the wallet into the trash I pausedlooking at it on the pile of refuse, as I was about to close the lidthe significance of what Karen was having me do struck me. I would notbe allowed a boys wallet any longer, this was. Democracy is the recurrent suspicion that more than half of the people are right more than half of the time. It is the feeling of privacy in the voting booths, the feeling of communion in the libraries, the feeling of vitality everywhere. Democracy is a letter to the editor. Democracy is the score at the beginning of the ninth. It is an idea which hasn’t been disproved yet, a song the words of which have not gone bad. It’s the mustard on the hot dog and the cream in the rationed coffee.. More

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