Dark Side of the Moon...

It was a beautiful, clear moonlit night in
San Francisco...Booblie and I were invited
to our new neighbors house warming party
right next door...Booblie and I have gotten
socially lazy and didn't decide to go until
the last minute...so off we went, a cheerfully
wrapped bottle of wine grasped tightly in
my hand. The boys' place was beautifully
decorated with some wonderful artwork hanging
on the walls...tables overflowing with food...
party-goers mingling in the hallways, kitchen
and deck...

I've gotten used to being the only person of
colour at SF gatherings...and this occasion
was no exception...the hosts were very nice
and eagerly introduced me to their parents...the
impeccably dressed mother shook my hand warmly
as I told her I lived right next door....she
eyed my dreadlocks and said with a smile,
"I didn't hear any Rasta music coming from
over there."

As I attempted to find the proper way to respond
to that statement, the Dad had a slip of the
old tongue...He said, "We were just looking at
the work you're having done out black...uh, I
mean back."

Now I could have raised my clenched black fist
in the air and shouted "Black Power" followed by
spinning and dropping to the floor in a split,
ala James Brown (Unhh, Good Gawd),getting up and
storming out, singing, "We Shall Overcome."

But I didn't...

Instead I spent most of the evening talking to them.
You see, I knew that they hadn't spent a whole
heckofa lot of time with Black people and I saw the
opportunity to educate instead of mutilate. We ended
up talking and laughing till the wee hours... as the
dark side of the moon was obscured by the thick
San Fraincisco fog.