So i'm ambling my way to Eliot Park where there is a
free computer I can use, a brother passing me by on
15th st between Park and Portland greets me.

"happy father's day", he says assuming I suppose that
i must be a father given my age. I respond in kind
with a cheery "happy father's day to you too."

Within a block an american indian brother crosses my
path, saying "happy fathers day". Already past him I
turn, point a finger admiringly, "back at you,
brother."

a half block farther on the corner of 15th and chicago
where the ghost of danny's hideaway hangs in the air i
run into Louis who used to wash dishes at the loring
cafe when i worked there as gardener, maintenance man,
etc extraordinaire.

we chat a minute. he's moved from 15th and laurel to
15th and park and now is working at daytons doing
alterations on the third floor, the women's dept. he's
waiting for a #5 bus out to the Mall.

God I love this town at its elemental best. 

last weekend on a warm setting sun evening i met
michael hobson and his cousin, (her name escapes me at
the moment)her four well-behaved children in tow. 

It was at 10th and 4th av across from the shelter and
michael asked where the harbor light was. i told him
and as i was on my way home we walked and talked.

Michael had just got in that afternoon from memphis
with his cousin and they had gotten her set up with
temp. housing and he was looking to find a bed at
harbor light.

we chatted briefly about memphis and beale street and
i asked why he had come to minneapolis.

"for the opportunity" he said. "jobs", man.

they don't pay much for work in memphis and the future
don't look as bright. less opportunity to make a good
life for oneself.

i fill him in on the housing market, tell him about
mary jo and how maybe his cousin and nieces and
nephews can find a place to live.

"we want to stay together". "well, that might be a
little harder i tell him."

I tell him about the job market, the bus service, how
much it costs, etc. When he hears you can pay your
fare, get a transfer that lasts 2and1/2 hours and can
be used in any direction including a round trip , he
turns to his cousin saying, "did you hear that".

I walk all the way to harbor light, explain the french
names of our streets, mention juneteenth coming up
next week, talk about racial undercurrents and how all
is not as it sometimes seems. 

we part and i walk home.  god i love just wandering
around talking to people. 

from eliot pak today i was heading toward the stone
arch bridge when i came across marie, in a covered
alleyway next to the sexton building, painting her car
for pride week and the art car parade.

we talk about goddesses and gods, mexico, segregation,
muralling, music at the blue nile, taco morelos and
their combination burrito, "big as a small child" and
a few other things.

God i love this town on a sunday afternoon when the
most important thing i have to do is talk with a
complete stranger.

fact is i love this town. i was born here, probably be
planted here. funny. 

i remember kat bjelland from "babes in toyland" refer
to minneapolis as "the open air treatment center".
never more so than today has it felt that way for me.

all the people i mention are just regular "folks". i
don't often use that word. too many times hearing cm
lisa mcdonald using it condescendingly, i guess. 

my father-in-law fits that category. eighty-one years
old, ww2 pacific theatre vet, island hopping toward
the far east, sitting in a wheelchair, a stroke victim
of shoddy hospital care after surgery because allina,
the supposed guys in white hats the Mayor likes to
mention as such good corporate citizens.

years he worked for the gas company for a crappy
pension and a cheap watch and now the government wants
to take what little he has left from a life of honest
work and prudent savings.

the rich get richer.... it's always been that way but
the reagan revolution took greed to a new level and
we're still escalating. 

Hey, how 'bout that Magic 8Ball. I was there. Across
the street talking to Dave Bourn. He owns a litle
company rents out those big searchlights. We talk
about the downtown theatre district, the Schubert, the
mann/pantages, orpheum, state.

"what are those kids protesting?" he wonders. I try to
explain how they feel. 

"tackiest exhibition i've ever seen in this town and
i've sen a few" i say. Dave doesn't really get it.

There is a way how all manner of ugly behaviors and
attitudes get glossed over in this town by the
justification "it's for a good cause." that's the part
of this town i don't like and want to help change.

that's the part my father-in-law knows instinctively.
no education necessary there. 

after the magic 8 ball (that's the black one) where
the number of black people I saw entering you could
call on two hands, i wandered past the grand hotel
where they were shooting scenes for "regular joe".
must be a comedy. should have been at the magic 8
ball. could transform it into a black comedy.

at 7th and nicollet the bus stop is full of people
waiting for the #5 headed north up emerson, broadway,
penn and on to brooklyn center. 

I satart reflecting that statistically four of the ten
young black men on the bus stop likely might see the
inside of the "public safety center". a startling
thought.

some might belong there. many will be put there
because our criminal "justice" system, supposedly
blind, is suffused with racial animus.

there is a gulf between white and black in this
country, this city, and it is the product of fear and
ignorance. and i don't think it's getting any better.

when i got home i started talking to a friend who
understood instinctively when i talked about the magic
8 ball. black people live with racism everyday of
their lives in the majority society. how do you repair
that.

recognition by the white men of our debt to blacks is
first and foremost. 

being nurtured by a black woman who came to work for
my family when my mother became ill makes me think of
my personal debt every day. i hate to think of where i
would be if harriet harvey who turns 87 this thursday
had not come into my life.

happy father's day.





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