Months ago. Sitting outside. Madman across street talking very loudly, head down, ranting, easily heard across Clark Street, f–k this, f–k that, “n—rs” very loud. Luckily, few people around. He stops by time most customers drive up . . .
Happily also, before the “Streetwise” woman arrives. Deeply black, unfailingly friendly, smooth black skin. Heavy accent led me early on to think she came from the South. Not so. South Side yes, born and raised in Chicago, she told me when I remarked on the weather a few years ago outside the Brown Elephant down the street . . . .
Big black truck-cars pull up for coffee next to the row of tables and chairs, drivers hop out, go inside, come out quickly, pull away. Drive-by customers. . . .
Young couple with stroller in the sunlight. . . .
Nissan Rogue, music going, driver’s head bobbing in front seat. . . .
I can’t return Streetwise lady’s “Good morning” as I sit, would lose train of thought. She’s never fazed. I greet her when I leave, walking away down Clark Street.
Last night, 10 pm news about a dead teen with (from?) COVID without reference to how rare her death. (You can look it up.) Nothing but her being a good girl etc. mourned by family, friends, et al. Typical treatment of such stories . . . Do they think we have no interest beyond that?