HARLEM IS A VIBE

Harlem is where I found My People. After three trips to New York, I finally went to Harlem. Walking up and down 125th Street and Lennox, strolling down neighborhoods lined with brownstones, I could see myself living there.

New York’s contrast between the ultra-rich and the working class is so stark that it is disconcerting. I stayed at the Hard Rock Hotel in Manhattan's theatre district, within walking distance of Times Square, Rockefeller Center, and 5th Avenue. One afternoon, I had lunch at a small café near Central Park where an older female New Yorker sat alone having lunch. I couldn’t help but notice the huge solitaire diamond ring that extended to her knuckle. Her large Louis Vuitton monogram multicolor bag lying casually in the chair across from her. She interrupted our conversation when she heard us planning to get an Uber back to the hotel. She laughingly told us it was close enough to walk, but we could take the subway if we didn’t want to walk. The woman gave us directions to the subway and told us which trains we could take. After that excursion, we traveled by subway often, getting directions from the hotel concierge, taking careful note of whether we were going uptown or downtown and the letters and numbers of the trains. We only took an Uber a few times because two women in the group had knee injuries. 

Of all the places I visited, the New York Public Library with the stone lions in front was the most impressive. The massive collection of knowledge and works of literature stored in such an imposing structure was quite frankly overwhelming. Stone pillars, marble floors, masterful artworks, and chandelier-lined hallways. Opulent private rooms for scholars and public rooms for laypersons to study. Coming to such a place whenever I wanted would be a privilege. The view of New York on 5th Avenue juxtaposed with the street vendor of 125th Street in Harlem shocks the senses, but Harlem felt real. The history of the Harlem Renaissance was etched into the brownstones I passed, and whispers of Louis Armstrong’s horn floated down the street. I could envision Langton Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston looking down at these same streets and writing about our struggles today. The hustle and flow of Harlem mixed with the unity that we are in the struggle together was the feeling I walked away with when I left Harlem.

I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I know it won’t be the same Harlem I saw on this trip because there were glaring indications that it would not be the Black Mecca it is now. The vibe that Harlem was and is will soon be watered down into something less soulful. As I took the train uptown back to the hotel, I couldn’t help but pray that this place called Harlem, with its cultural and historical significance, would not be lost to gentrification.

“A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin, and culture is like a tree without roots.” ----Marcus Mosiah Garvey  

LOOKING FORWARD

“Looking Forward” is the theme of this year's Women’s Conference for my church in Altadena. I thought about that for a moment and realized how appropriate it is for women of a certain age, such as myself. When I was young, pretty much all I did was look forward to the day I could do what I wanted without asking anyone for permission. Now that I’m older and have experienced so much loss, sometimes it’s hard to look forward.

Living in the past can be a comfortable place full of beautiful memories. There are people and places I will never forget (nor would I want to), but they are no longer a part of my present or future. Moving on from the past doesn’t mean forgetting. It means that I’m living in the here and now.

Looking forward, I know that my world will change, and with change comes uncertainty.

After working for over forty years at the Los Angeles Superior Court, I was a bit apprehensive about who I would be, what I would do, and whether there would be enough money to live like I had been living before retirement.  I retired in March 2020, just as Covid-19 became a global pandemic. You might think I had no choice but to move forward, but that wouldn’t be true. The isolation of beginning retirement and quarantining because of the virus was very depressing. From 2016 to now, there have been so many deaths in my family and of people that I have known and loved. Some days, it was so hard to get up and look forward without fear and trepidation about what the future would bring. But I do. I look forward to each new day, knowing it is beyond my control. I start my day thanking God for a new beginning, another chance to be better than I was the day before. And at night, I ask him to forgive me for my trespasses.

Life is beautiful, but it isn’t without pain and suffering. There are things beyond our control, yet we do have a say in how we move in this world. We can be gracious, kind, and loving despite the things that could have made us bitter, depressed, lonely, or angry….

I have a choice. I can either give up and believe that my best days are in the past or believe that better ones are coming. I’ve had a good life, yet I know I haven’t seen the best that God has promised me.

Since retirement, I’ve self-published two books, the third of which will be published soon. I’m excited about my second act as an author because I know I can remain hopeful as long as I have something to look forward to. I can wake up excited, hopeful, and expecting something extraordinary as I look forward to each new season of my life!

Never let yesterday use up too much of today – Will Rogers

TEACHING AN OLD DOG A NEW TRICK

I’m finally taking swimming lessons this summer. For years, I would have told you I could swim. After all, I swam as a kid. During the summers, I would walk with my sister and some of the kids in my neighborhood to Roosevelt Park and go swimming. As a child, I never took swimming lessons; I just jumped into the pool. I swam in the pool's deep end and didn’t give it a second thought.

Now, in my sixties, I’m afraid to lie backward and float in four feet of water. OMG…don’t even think about floating facing the water. I must remind myself not to panic when floating because all I have to do is stand up!

Learning how to swim in my sixties will be a slow process because that fearlessness of youth is long gone. It has been replaced with an irrational fear I’m determined to conquer.

In these last dog days of summer, this old lady will be splashing around in four feet of water, trying to suppress my fear of drowning in water that I only need to stand up in to be safe.

At this time in my life, I’m determined to do everything I want to do while I still can. No, I will not be jumping out of planes, ziplining, or climbing cliffs, but I will do the things that I once enjoyed. Teaching an old dog a new trick may not be easy, but it isn’t impossible.