Sunday, August 7, 2011

3 beach conversations (1 of 3): A (black) woman.

A while ago when I was down in my old neighborhood I had an evening swim by the beach.

The bike rack was full when I got there, so I had locked my bike to a bench, and when I came back to get it, there was an old (black) lady and an old (Jewish-looking lady) on the bench, enjoying the evening.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I was like, as I went to go unlock the bike. "I hope this hasn't bothered you! There wasn't any room when I got here."

"Oh no, not at all," the old (black) lady was like.

Then, we got into a long conversation about how warm the water was, etc., and she was telling me about how she swims at the Y.

I said that that's safe, because sometimes you're not sure about water quality, but I figure, it's better to swim than not to swim, since if you're not active, you might die early anyways, of heart disease.

She laughed, and said she swims anyways, though the chlorine really frizzes up my hair.

"But I don't do anything about it," she said, raising her hands up on both sides of her natural, "At my age I don't care anymore."

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