Laundry Mats and "Getting Along"

When I was just out-of-school, I did not have a washer or dryer. I imagine many people were in this boat, though not-so-much anymore with instant credit for college graduates. But in the late 1980s or early 1990s, I frequented Laundromats. Not for dating, but because I had no washer-dryer and occasionally I wore clean clothes (a joke).

Now, for some of you who have been reading for a while, I have OCD. Think about this for a moment – young, college grad woman who has OCD and is using the Laundromat. Yes, using appliances to wash her undies where other people who have less stringent hygiene habits who are also washing their undies in the same appliances. Completely grosses me out. But without cash or a place to put the washer/dryer combinations, I was using the Laundromat down the street. Well, not just down-the-street, but close-to-home.

Anyway, I was sitting on one of the tables, reading a book one evening, doing my laundry. I can't remember the book I was reading, but knowing me, it was some really big book (that, in my mind, I could have used as a weapon on others, since I was by myself in a Laundromat). A big book that I wanted to read. To this, you would need to think, "How utilitarian of you, dear Leesa."¹

I look up from my book, and an elderly black man is sitting in a chair fairly near me. He had a thin frame, salt-and-pepper hair, more salt than pepper. Nice smile. When I looked up, he caught my eye. I smiled.

He said, "Friday night, and you are reading. I bet you are smart."

I giggled. I did not mean to giggle, but I did. And we started talking.

We started talking about race relations. Not sure how it got there. Okay, maybe there was basketball on the television, and we started talking about basketball. He thought it was odd that I did not like Larry Bird – I did not like him because my Daddy did not like him. I knew squat about basketball, but I Daddy always said that if Larry Bird played as good as the announcers said he played, he would be a great player. My Daddy said Larry Bird's accomplishments were overblown because he was white, and I believed him. Anyway, this started the conversation.

This gentleman was a grandfather. I don't remember the whole conversation, but I will never forget something that he said. He said his grand-daughter and my children may live in a better world, a world where the color of one's skin is something to note, but not to overshadow other aspects of their being. He said that he learned to hate white people from his upbringing, and when he was talking about this, I recalled small things that "colored" my thinking. He said it was too late for me, that I had already been brainwashed, but that my children would have a chance to live in a more colorblind world.²

You know, at the time, I did not believe the grandfather, but over time, I have come to realize his wisdom. Not that I think I am a lost soul, as it relates to my ability to judge others on their own attributes and not the color of their skin, but as a society, it is extremely hard to change one person, let alone many people in society. The grandfather, I have come to realize, was saying that he had no hope that his generation nor mine would change their views deep down, but perhaps the following generation may have a better chance at starting from more scratch and looking past certain physical traits.

The Rodney King trial in the 1990s. Who was on trial? The four police officers? Society as a whole? If so, why do we still call it the Rodney King trial? He was not on trial.

Laundromats and baseball parks. That's where you think about race.

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¹Now I am slowly teaching you how to think. In a few short months, I will take over the world with my mind control. Well, maybe not the world. Maybe take over New Zealand.

²Part of me laughs and says "Ha, didn't know I am infertile." The bitter part of me, that is.