I catch myself thinking of my late great friend Lou Taylor, to whom Trading for a Living was dedicated. Back in the 1950s Lou was riding a packed street car in New Orleans when a pregnant black woman walked in. Since no negroes (that was the language of the day) got up, Lou stood up and offered her his seat. When other whites pointed out to him he was in the white section, Lou simply moved the color bar (a device on a rail that ran the length of a street car, separating white and colored sections). Someone cursed him out, he answered back, punches flew, and soon was being taken off the street car in handcuffs. I know that had he been alive today (he'd be 90), he would laugh at the human comedy of it all. The country has caught up with Lou Taylor.