Mary Gardienier and I were together at a community recreation center, and she had designed and sculpted the initial letters of the recreation association in big plastic cubes four or five feet on a side.  I thought she had done a terrific job, and I was really proud of her.  I persuaded her to come downstairs and outside with me and try to sell the cubes to the guy who ran the association, who lived in an apartment on the first floor.  The relationship between her and me was steadily warming, and she took my hand once on the way down.  To my surprise, she walked right in his door without knocking.  The guy's name was on the door, followed by the word "Sheriff."  When he saw us come in, he started ranting and raving about that being a "white man's house" (apparently in contrast to Indians).  Later on, he began dropping bigoted remarks about blacks too, and I was really mad and wanted to leave.  He said they had already ordered a sign for the place, so weren't interested in hers, but I didn't want to give up that easily, so I had to put up with his bigotry for a while even though it made me sick.  We finally left.  I figured he didn't like me too much because of my beard.  He was definitely a redneck.