“...her name is Fiona Hill and her last book….”
“…. Mrs. Dalloway’s had….”
“…. read the….”
“…. if she tells me again….”
I’m swimming between two walking
ladies at the Kennedy Pool. They are talking. I am catching only snippets of
their conversation each time I pass between them on my way up and down the
lane. I am here to swim. They are here to talk.
It’s a
different kind of workout. The Talking Workout.
And in the
shallow lanes, there is definitely more talking than swimming going on. Part of
it, of course, is the fact that they are walking in the water vs. swimming in
the water. Water walking just lends itself to talking, and if the walkers are ‘regulars,’
well, they have a rapport going already. Ripe for talking.
They completely
ignored me. I wasn’t even there even though I swam between them every minute or
so. The conversation continued over me and I couldn’t help but catch fragments
of it as I swam past.
“…..and you just have to watch out for them. They all have a mean streak. Men! I love ‘em but I stay away from them….”
Alice
frowns and shakes her head as this pronouncement floats over me. It strikes me
as wrong. In my experience, I find that most men aren’t the ‘mean’ type. Women
are. Maybe I got this from when I was a teenager and the ‘mean’ girls
ostracized me from their ‘in-crowd’ when I told them we were moving out of
Hacienda Heights to Irvine. For some reason, they took this as an affront to their
community and wouldn’t speak to me for the remainder of my time there.
It was
MEAN!
And, in Soap Operas, sure the men are scheming and manipulative, but not ‘mean'. Watch out for Victoria on the Young and the Restless. She’ll eat you alive if you try to commit any corporate espionage on Newman Enterprises! “Tucker, you may think you have leverage over me, but my people have discovered several emails that will be quite detrimental to your continued business ventures. “Are you threatening me, Victoria.” Victoria smiles smugly. “Of course not. I just think you better be on your guard. I don’t just growl. I bite!”
I turn at
the wall and continue back down the lane, words floating over me:
“….my Volvo
needed an oil change and….”
“….my car
is smaller so….”
“…. the
mechanic told me…. if I want to be good to my car…”
The Talking Ladies continue their discussions over me, going
from books, to men to cars. I wonder if I
should stop my lap swimming and ask who their mechanic is. Sounds like someone
that I’d like. Though the guys at J&E on 23rd Street are very
nice and I really don’t need a new mechanic. Plus, I hate car stuff.
It's 11:00 a.m. and the pool is closing. The lifeguard
gets off his throne and paces slowly up the cement center between the deep side
of the pool and the shallow. He’s young and shy. Doesn’t blow the whistle or
yell for us to get out, but his movement is effective. Everyone gets out.
Even the
Talking Ladies.
I wait to get out at the ladder, but Granny Glasses is blocking my way out.
“I am going to try this Sushi place on….” Alice is yelling over me.
“…. since
Covid I ….”
Instead of trying to manuever past Granny Glasses to get out at the ladder, I decide to
just heave myself out onto the deck.
Sitting on the wet cement deck for a moment, I can't help but grin. "....if you wanna come to lunch with me, I...."
Of course, she's not talking to me. But that's okay. I can listen.
5 comments:
Not a swimmer, but the art museum can have the same problem...talking people and their i phones, and yacking up where they take their summer vacations...
Yes, people and their phones is a whole other can of worms! Thanks for reading, RJJ!
I'm a guy and I MEAN it - silence may be more blissful, but not as funny as gossip
Hah! True, Ian! Thanks for your Guy Perspective!
Hey Nice Amazing Blog!
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