Little Old Race Riot

True story: loud conversation overheard between two little old ladies. Good for an embarrassed chuckle of embarrassment.

Deliberate as a turtle through the woods, Jenny says, “Brown, black, red, yellow, and white.” Above, fragrant apple petals slip from blossoms, accompanied by birdsong. Chicka-dee-dee-dee. Landed petals give her silver curls a pale pink cast.

“Oof!” Clara leans forward on the park bench. Her frail, refined body disguises a seargent’s voice. “You cannot call them that! You cannot label a person as a color.”

Jenny rubs a soft petal between her fingertips. “We have such hues. White, red—”

“That is ignorant. You cannot say someone is ‘red’ or ‘brown’. There are no ‘yellow’ people.” An upside-down squirrel click-clacks around the tree trunk.

“But color is beautiful.”

Dried leaves somersault across the lawn as Clara clutches the seat rest, white-knuckled. “If you are going to speak on this subject you must use the proper words. You must have greater respect. Label the races as they are properly termed: Oriental, Negroid...”

Comments

Anonymous said…
you fascinate me.
May 01, 2008
P.L. Frederick said…
And you, anonymous mystery, fascinate me. Oh, how you do...
May 01, 2008
Anonymous said…
Well, I'm white and I can't help it. Don't feel like apologizing as it was God-ordained and thus out of my control. Now can we all get busy loving, understanding, forgiving, and helping one another?
May 01, 2008
P.L. Frederick said…
Hi, Jenny-who-is-not-the-Jenny-in-this-story! It is surreal when people argue about how best to respect someone (or some race), isn't it?

When words come from the heart, even if the words spoken or written aren't perfect, there is no argument. Or at least, the heart-driven person isn't arguing. People who love, understand, forgive, and help others don't have time to argue! =)
May 01, 2008
Anonymous said…
Uhh hauh. I've heard this conversation too but the squirrels were more vocal about not thinkin' red squirrels were really squirrels. The grey's all call em fat chipmunks !
May 02, 2008
Anonymous said…
I like that term "heart-driven person" ... clearly you are one of those, P.L.
May 09, 2008
P.L. Frederick said…
Pipetop, I don't care what race they call themselves, those people are animals.
May 10, 2008
P.L. Frederick said…
And Jenny is a sweetheart.
May 10, 2008
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

You're On My Mind, For $1,000

Image
It has not escaped me that I have a somewhat profuse forehead. Or rather, a fivehead. The “high forehead” was thought to be much attractive in the 15th through 16th centuries, when wealthy gentleladies plucked their way to highbrowed beauty. Admirers took note of the greater brainpan and refined intelligence. (“My, my. Look at thee fo’ead on that one. Hubba hubba.”) Alas, today we no longer live in the Middle Ages, those pox-filled days of easy beauty. Those of us left behind, showing proof of high intelligence as we do, need to make do. So.... One day, a dame with a dome has a bright idea: Advertising Revenue. Then an even better, more refined idea: But a genius idea needs geniuses to buy into it. That’s where you come in. For example, say you’re an overpaid advertising executive. You’re gearing up to promote a dentist, electronics giant, and/or hemorrhoid creme. Or household goods and Sea-Monkeys. I don’t need to explain to you the power of the visual medium. So, without further ado.
Read more

Anizo 100% Reality Mind

Image
“Anizo 100% Reality Mind.” What this means, I have no idea. A friend found it living in a vending machine on the street in China and brought it back to Boston for me. The one-inch tall yellow plastic guy (I think it’s a he) has a smile, a blue tear, a pair of hand holes, a growth atop his head pierced clean through, and, on his backside, a man getting squeezed between two lines that I hope do not represent butt cheeks. The warning printed on the paper insert commands, “Do not use as lifeguard equipment.” Anizo and I, we’re inseparable. Anizo 100% Reality Mind!
Read more

The Thing About A Sting

Image
Why does a bee sting? For the answer you gotta go straight to the stinger. So directly I go, to the honey bee on the red clover there. She looks sharp. “Um,” I say, absentmindedly rubbing the stinging lump on my backside. “Hello, little honeybee...?” “Bzzz,” she says through her fuzzy brown body. The little bee methodically works the field clover, chubby stripes balanced on dark, graceful toetips. Honeybees pick up sound vibrations through sensitive tapered feet; feet made for dancing and hard manual labor. “Good day to you, you ground-bound jumbo.” “Hey.” “Who has zee stinger?” the bee asks, padding across the purpley long-shag clover carpet. I am careful not to stare at her round brown backside; it might signal unhealthy interest. Politeness is in my interest. I breathe in the sweetness of warm clover, listening to the hum of insects happily working. Beneath my bare feet tender green leaves and stems percolate up the dirt’s moist humidity. For this quest why did I not wear s
Read more