I saw Zephaniah Kometa for the first time in the lobby of a Seattle motel, where I'd been waiting for the car that would take both of us up to a mountain retreat. We were scheduled to lecture. We might have been equals, except for our races and his great-hearted humility. Zephania (he pronounces it Zeph-AH-yah) appeared in the door of the tiny lobby, paused smiling, then stepped to the registration desk and spoke. It was curious--it would have been painful, except for that smile--how the clerk reacted to him.