I recently moved into a little "post-divorce" apartment. Sitting on my little balcony I can hear six languages throughout the afternoon. I sometimes think I am the Clint Eastwood character in "Gran Torino" but then I wake up from my day dream. I am very excited about living in this hodge-podge environment. I have not really moved in, but I go there after work and spend an hour or so sitting on my little balcony just watching. This story is about contrast. The contrast of what we believe and expect as opposed to what is real. One day as I sipped my green tea and puffed on my cigar I watched a little AA girl wander about among the cars parked across the parking lot. I saw her go to the back of a car and try to open the gas flap. It was a car that had a locking cap so she could not open it. A tenant drove by and she slipped back behind the parked cars. When the car passed she came back out and went to the next car in line and started to open the gas flap. I spoke in a loud voice asking her, "What are you going to do with that gas cap" (I figured I'd let this scene go on long enough)? She looked up in total surprise and darted into the complex and I have not seen her since but I am sure I will. So as you read this you're probably thinking, yeah those urban kids are always looking to get into trouble ... you know how they are. Last night I had gone through my ritual of green tea and crackers (English would call them biscuits) and straightened a few things out around the apartment. I packed up my grip and walked out to the bike. There was a woman across the way trying to back her car into a parking space. I watched her with great amusement, since she seemed to be having a really tough time doing what I felt was a simple maneuver, as I put in my earplugs, donned my helmet, threw a leg over the seat, put on my gloves and started my motorcycle. I took off down the parking lot and out onto the street. I got just about a mile away and realize I never lashed down my bag. OH SHIT! I turned around and went back as fast as I could. You have probably been in a crisis mode before ... you know how all those 'things' run through your mind. I had the title to my truck and my bike in that bag. I had my check book and other documents of import. I also had the book I was currently reading and didn't want to lose my place. I arrived back at the complex and parked the bike in my assigned space. I still had my helmet and ear plugs in but I could hear a noise that was not normal and I looked all around and saw nobody. Then I looked up ... on the third floor just above my first floor apartment. There stood a young teenage AA girl waving at me and yelling. I explained I had earplugs in and she said in a loud voice, "I have your bag". She proceeded to unlock her apartment door and retrieve my bag. She then carried it downstairs for me and then handed it to me. I thanked her and asked her what her names was. She said Chris ... I asked if that was C H R I S? She said no it was Chris with a K and a Y. She spelled it K R Y I S, or, maybe Krys, I will straighten that out later. I gave her a thumbs-up and said we would see each other again. With much relief I used two bungees to tie the bag securely on the back seat and back rest and proceeded with my trip.

It is not my intention to offend anyone by using the initials AA (African American) I have a real aversion to using any type of hyphenated references and I would prefer not to describe people by their race. However I am somewhat lazy and by referencing color we narrow down the description quickly and effectively. What goes through your mind after that is beyond my control. I have lived through many changes and I try to keep up with the current accepted labeling nomenclature. If I am behind the curve on this then I apologize and when I discover the latest and greatest wording I will adjust.

Cappy