September 30, 2004
It's a bizarre day in the neighborhood
There are, as you might imagine, some strange things in Harlem.
Exhibit A: the elderly white lady in my apartment building with the basset hound. The dog must be at least 10 years old. The woman refers to the dog as "my daughter" and addresses it as "young lady" and takes it with her everywhere she goes.
Exhibit B: the black dude who stands in front of the Greater Zion Hill Baptist Church at completely random times of day. I never know whether or not he's there until I check, but about 50% of the time, he is. He just stands there, facing the church, arms spread diagonally downward, palms open and down, shifting his weight from foot to foot, and talking. Can't for the life of me figure out what he's saying. This is in part due to the fact that his accent is so thick you could cut it with a knife, and partly due to the fact that he mumbles so badly that a Harlem native would be hardpressed to decipher his ramblings. Lately, he's added a bit of a pace to his schtick, and when it rains he comes over to my side of the street to stand under the construction scaffolding. Apparently, whoever he's talking to has been having trouble hearing him, because he's upped the volume quite a bit in the past few days.
I'll post more oddities as I come across them.
