Every Tuesday I drive out onto Brookdale Ave, across high street, across 35th and over to my niece’s preschool. We always have the most interesting conversations on the way back to my house. She notices everything and everyone, and she has questions about all of it. This man was sitting on the sidelines of the basketball court at Brookdale and High. My niece wanted to know whether or not he was someone’s grandfather and, if he was someone’s grandfather, which one of the children playing on the court was his grandchild? My niece will be five in the spring, and she’s very interested in family connections and relationships. Whenever she sees someone who is not obviously connected to someone else, she wants to know where their parents/children/grandchildren are. Her family is the center of her life, and she applies that framework to everything she sees, and there’s something really sweet and wonderful about that.
It’s veteran’s day, and so I tried to think of any veterans I may have seen in recent weeks. I spend a lot of time in Alameda, where there is a fairly significant presence of both veterans and active duty military. I still remember this guy because he seemdc so distinctive, with his olive green jacket and pants and his heavy sunglasses, all worn indoors. He was sitting across the table from me in the upstairs quiet reading area at the Alameda Free Library. I knew he was a veteran because he was wearing fatigues of a sort, and because he had a stack of books with veteran in the title. I am, in many ways, fascinated by veterans, especially veterans of war. I always wonder how one integrates into his or her life such an intense and anomalous experience. Of course, some people never really do.
Happy Veteran’s Day to all, with humble respect for those who have served during peacetime and during times of war. And for those veterans who have passed on, may you Rest In Peace.
I am not a regular Trader Joe’s shopper, and when I go there I am usually way too focused to notice anyone or anything around me. I noticed this guy, though, because just about everything he was wearing, including his glasses, looked like a clothing item I either own or used to own. This was of particular interest to me because while he is a 30-something man, I am a 40-something woman. I wonder what this man would have done if I’d gone up to him and asked, “Hey, give me back my sweater, home boy!” I didn’t have the gumption to ask, but if I see him again, and he’s wearing an Ajuan-style outfit, he’s going to have some explaining to do!
I passed this brother on my way into the Everett and Jones Barbecue restaurant on MacArthur Blvd. It was the night of the third game in the World Series, and I couldn’t tell what was making him smile more, the fact that the Giants had pulled ahead or the delicious bag of take-out barbecue in his arms. I was smiling too, but not because of the Giants. I was happy for their victory and all, but a baseball game can’t hold a candle to Everett and Jones hot links. Their greens aren’t too bad either.
Here’s one more sketch from my Southland Mall shopping trip. This man had such awesome cheekbones and amazing facial lines that I had to commit him to paper once I returned home. The rough quality of the black outline in this drawing is a result of my having used a ballpoint pen to create it (something I never, ever do because I don’t like the feeling of ballpoint on paper).
Here’s the one other shopper at Southland (besides me) who appeared to be over the age of 40. He, like me, was in the work clothes store. Coincidence? I think not.
If ever there was a mall that was created to cater to the rapidly changing fashion sensibilities of young people of color, it’s the Southland Mall in Hayward, California. I was there a couple Saturdays ago, picking up some items for my Halloween costume. It had been a while since I’d last visited that shopping center, and I was once again struck by the predominance of Asian American, African American, and Mexican American shoppers, most of whom appeared to be under the age of 30. I can’t imagine that the fact that the Macy*s at Southland has no tuxedo shirts and no self-tie bowties, but several styles of Stacy Adams shoes has nothing to do with the demographic profile of its shoppers. Something about that strikes me as a little bit creepy. Is there such a thing as department store redlining? If so, then I think Macy*s Southland just might be doing it.
By the way, this baby-faced young man is just one of many I noticed during my Halloween shopping trip.
This brother was a couple people ahead of me in the line at the High Street Walgreens drugstore. If you haven’t been to the High Street Walgreens, then you may not know that it is has the slowest, longest lines of any Walgreens in the East Bay. Make not mistake, though–the cashiers are not the problem. The issue in the store is that at least one out of every four customers has some sort of special request that, apparently, can only be made at the checkout counter. Some people want to renegotiate the terms of a store coupon while others want to return an item without a receipt. Still others are deciding, even as their groceries are being rung up, whether or not they actually want to buy the items in their cart. Today was a particularly slow day in the checkout line, and the man in this drawing was conpletely out of patience. After a couple minutes he began expressing his frustration out loud, under his breath. I clearly heard him say “this is ridiculous,” at least a couple of times. A two of the other people in line nodded their heads in silent agreement. I maintained a poker face throughout, but I certainly understood his irritation, because I was irritated too.
This is the last of my APE (Alternative Press Expo) drawings. The guy in this drawing didn’t stop by my table. He was walking past all of our tables very quickly, and it seemed like he was looking for a specific vendor. Still, I got a long enough look at him to draw him for later display on this blog post.
Here’s another drawing from the APE (Alternative Press Expo) sketchbook. On Sunday, the second day of the Expo, this guy was the second person to stop by my table. He was very friendly and he really took his time looking at my work. He did, however, seem a bit skeptical of my motives. Did I mention that this seemed to be a trend among some of the younger Black men who stopped at my table? I think that some of it had to do with the setting. Among so many comic artists depicting the space age and the supernatural, an artist whose work is essentially a journal of my experience of seeing everyday Black men must have seen a little odd.
