The Day of the Valentine's/Seventies Ball and a visit to the Beauty Parlour
I awake at 8.30 am and know it will be at least four hours before the household stirs, so despite the sunshine streaming in the window, and with the aid of my mask, I go back to bed. I finally doze, then sleep, and wake up at 11.30 am, quietly make a cup of tea, I even have mastered the tricky gas light, and slice some fruit, which I take back to bed. Bev is up an hour later, and we sit, eating toast, at the table. The preparation of meals takes a long time here, nothing is rushed, and the intensity of the conversation delays progress.
Beverly is a highly intelligent, prolifically well read, powerful, female black activist, who takes life seriously, and has family at the core of her existence, along with justice and fairness. She is measured, thoughtful, articulate and wise. And angry, years of witnessing and experiencing the suffering of her race have layered over her, and despite her kindly and courteous respectful demeanour, her anger is always present, and easily accessible, but she has mastered it. Our conversations are always significant, there is no small talk, no light hearted banter, every sentence makes an impact, and I realise I am privileged to be trusted this way, to listen to the hateful, dreadful, inhumane acts perpetrated against the black Americans, perhaps I am the only white person she can do - has done - this with. And whilst I feel assaulted at times by the sheer weight and intensity of her subject, I listen, I am compassionate and I try to understand, even when I hear her impatience that I do not know of a crack team of elite black American pilots who were discriminated against during the war, or a black American hero, or college or city or film - I realise I am a part of her healing process. Bev's face is a study of impartiality, you do not know what is going on behind her flat expression, but when she smiles the world literally lights up. She is meticulous in her knowledge, her dated and facts and figures, and once she begins a conversation, she completes it, like a librarian taking out folder after folder, following the course of an important piece of history, and she keeps going until every last detail, every last fact, has been shared. It's exhausting for me. I often experience being talked 'at' rather than talked 'to'. But I love her, I admire her, she inspires me and hundreds of others, and is about to be awarded the Community Activist Award at a Civil Ceremony at the end of the month, a great honour indeed.
On the walk to the hairdresser, the wind is biting, it is bitterly cold, and the snow is melting, uncovering piles of garbage, which is blowing all over the place, and stuck to the ground with ice in others. The shopping centre is run down and shop fronts which once faced the main road are now permanently shut. There is an air of neglect and decay, empty shops, old signs, buildings in need of repair. Our visit to the hairdresser, the "beauty parlour', is interesting. It is where Isadora, the chief hairdresser, a Russian woman beams all over her face when Bev introduces me. Bev asks the cost, $18, Bev frowns, 'really?' OK, $15 says Isadora. Bev tells them I am from Australia. Their response is comical - 'WOT! Australeeeeeya?" - this news flashes through the salon, which is a curious mix of barber shop, nail salon, delicatessen, beauty parlour - there is a pink plastic cloth covering a table which is for facials. Julie, another Russian, washes my hair, and I realise I have to tip her, Bev will guide me on her return on the protocol. Julie cannot get her head around the fact I am from Australia, she says I have made her very happy, that is her dream to go there, and do we eat kangaroo? Where born, she asks. Africa. Well, that piece of information finishes her off. AFRICA????? Oh my GOT, she says, looking at me suspiciously. Where you meet your friend, she ventures. Singapore, I reply. Now I am a walking, talking phenomenon, who will forever be a celebrity in this salon, people are walking up to me, and standing, looking, nodding and smiling. I meet Martha, a white woman, who at 90, looks 70. She lives in a huge old house she says, but will move soon, as she rattles around in it. Her son is a doctor who goes to conferences in Sydney 'all the time', and her daughter is a science teacher, won teacher of the year award. Isadora's daughter is an eye doctor, and they struggled very hard when they came here, no language, two suitcases, and no money. It amazes me, so many people I have met, and many from humble beginnings, have children who are whiz kids - doctors, dentists, teachers, athletes of note - people who have worked so hard to find their way to success, it truly is a remarkable feat.
Isadora, though haphazard, and drops the straightener, does a good job. Julie has refused to put conditioner on my hair, saying "it is too thin and fine". Really? Isadora is appalled and says bluntly "You need colour!". No I don't, I say, I like it. Beverly's neighbour arrives with a tale of a couple who took their pet kangaroo to McDonalds, it was cute and wearing and jumper, and they were told to leave. Marilyn is incensed. It was sooo cute, she repeats. I say "A kangaroo is a wild animal and should never be domesticated, its cruel and unfair." Her story, now clearly ruined, is a disappointment, and she looks at me dubiously, as if to say "I thought I had an ally in you .."
We try to buy the Entertainment Weekly for Josh, as it has a whole section on the Oscars which he would appreciate, I read it in the doctors surgery, and found the critics comments very interesting. Only one store in Flushing sells magazines, and we enter it, but sadly, they have stopped selling magazines. That tells a story in itself.
Now I have to get ready for the ball. I find it find to put on all my clothes as its so hot in the apartment, I have hot flushes and I sweat, and rather wait till Bev is ready to leave, generally a very long process, and I am melting at the door in my gear. I was typing and had everything ready to go, and she walked in and said "You should be getting ready." I am dressed from head to foot in less than five minutes, and wait in the dining room for another ten minutes, sweltering. Patience, Sandra.
It is now 5 pm and Yvonne and Nath will be here in a few minutes, Bev is not ready, and has told me as I am ready, I can entertain. Yvonne arrives with the most charming Valentines Day card for me, and a new frame for my photo of Mom and Dad, which got broken on the trip over. Such thoughtfulness. We chat until Bev is ready in the new white top she got at the Liquidators today, with her 'buttons' from the sixties pinned to her chest. The two men are solicitous and courteous getting us into the car - Dickie has moved his car out the car park so Nathan can park, and Nat is warming it up, and bringing it as close to the door as possible, both of them gently guiding us three women and helping us buckle up, its a tight fit for us three girls in the back seat, and getting the belts done up is tricky, Nat loses a glove, which he discovers on top of the car, and we are off. They say the traffic could be very busy - but its a clear run, and we arrive at City Island in Manhattan in about 30 minutes, and just like the movies, a parking attendant comes out and takes the car, as we alight, right at the front door.
There are mounds of snow everywhere, and the restaurant is lit up with golden light and blonde wood, it is very pretty and very inviting, it is the Sea Shore Restaurant, the first in a mile or so of restaurants along this finger of land, which in summer is 'standing room only', impossible to park, very very popular, and beautiful, as it overlooks the Hudson River (where that plane crashed a few years ago). We walk past a bar and leave our coats at the 'check out' and get a ticket - another just like the movies moment for me. The room that our Valentines Day Ball is set up in is magical - festooned with tiny white starry lights around the wall, and a huge fireplace at one end, the tables are laid with starched napery, an army of glasses, and gleaming silverware. There are only a few people here, although we are only a few minutes early. People keep arriving all night long - until 10.30 pm I saw a couple walk in! There is a man in a tie dye t shirt, a woman in gold lame and thigh high stockings, with a dollar bill tucked into the elastic, a man in a long black coat, edged with leopard skin, and a squared off hat and walking cane, his lady in a matching outfit. As people arrive, its clear they have gone to a lot of trouble, and there are shrieks of delight and laughter, these people are ready to party even before they arrive. We are welcomed by Steve and Debbie, who have organised this event, wearing matching African chitenge shirts, she with a big Afro wig, there are spangled jump suits, long black jackets and berets, aka Black Panther, leather jackets, mini skirts, white boots (oh Priscilla!) - everybody is having so much fun, and know each other so well. This is a "Marriage Ministry" and they meet for two hours a week, reading from The Book, (the Bible), watch films, talk and share what is going on for them, find that others are too - I think its a marvellous thing. I am tapped on the shoulder with a mouthful of olives, and Deborah (another one, also Afro wigged) - says "May I introduce myself? And welcome you, all the way from Australia?" - I stand to greet her, and she says "Can I have a hug?" Oh I love this woman! She is one half of the couple who run the ministry, and not a thing about her is holier than thou. She dances like someone straight out of the Self Expression and Leadership Program, totally self expressed, and in one memorable, movie like moment, whips off her Afro, revealing a tight little black cap underneath it taming her own hair, and fans her face and her head with it. Perhaps 80 people have been watching her, clearly The Leader, and they erupt into shrieks and yells and convulsive laughter, people are slapping their thighs and holding each other up and staggering about in a Laurel and Hardy parody. Oh I LOVE this!!! No looking good here!
The dancing hots up, we do the Electric Slide, Yvonne grabs my arm and gets me up, allowing me to move her about so she is always in front so I can copy her moves. Another dance is just for the women, the play a song called Ladies Night, by Cool and the Gang, and the guys are shooed off the floor, the dance is "Soul Train Line" - where the women line up on opposite sides of the floor, and the top 'couple' meet and groooooooove down the middle, between the two lines of dancers, trying 'to outdo' each other, in Yvonne's words. Men can do it too. Another is called "The Cupid Shuffle", Yvonne patiently teaches me, aided by Steve, one of the group leaders. These women are so friendly to me, open and complimentary on my outfit, interested in Australia, generous and inclusive. The men are the most courtly, gentlemanly, polite men I have ever met, pulling out chairs, a gentle hand in the curve of my back, attentive eyes in a conversation. And Dickie and Nath say "Your money ain't no good here." I cannot pay for a thing, as I already said. I mention to Yvonne I would like a glass of wine, and ask if she would too. No, she says, and "Nath - Saaaaaaandra would like a glass of wine." Immediately he stands, pulls out my chair, takes my arm, and ushers me to the bar in the next room. A lady cannot go into a bar on her own. Three people exclaim at me "Oh, its a seventies night!" - and I say, "Yes, and I came all the way from Australia for it!" Well, they nearly fall off their bar stools. There is Devine, a large black woman with a beautiful smile, Nancy, from Puerto Rico, and Ricky, her partner. I am a celebrity, even the barman is impressed. We chat for a while, and I am given a large glass of house chardonnay. My money is ignored, as Nathan hands money over the top of me, This event occurs once more in the night. I don't know, but I think the wine was $9 a glass, which seems incredibly expensive. Our three new friends agree with Nath, no she cannot use her money here, and when I say he has to come back to Aus with Yvonne so I can repay him, he says in his dignified way "We can never come to Australia to use your money. Only to see you two."
One again, I notice the absence of alcohol, despite all the glasses, there is only water being placed on the table, and when the waiters do bring drinks, it is 'soda' - jugs of coke and ginger beer, not a drop of alcohol. I see only two people who have a pink drink in a long glass, and its a rum punch.
The menu! Oh my, the menu! We start with an appetiser of mixed olives, cheeses, mushrooms and peppers marinated in oil, some while later, a large bowl of salad, lettuce, tomato, mandarin (?), cucumber, and peppers. Then platters of crumbed calamari, small pipis with a breadcrumb topping, and bowls of mussels in tomato sauce, More dancing and a big plate of pasta with sauce arrives. We have had a choice of entrees, an entree being the main course here, remember, and I have to record the variety and choice for you in detail.
Grilled or Baked Salmon Fillet or Swordfish
Shrimp Scampi or Fried Shrimp or Shrimp Parmigiana
Broiled or Fried Seafood Combination
1-1/4 lb. Whole Maine Lobster, Steamed or Broiled
Canadian Lobster Tail and Fillet Mignon
Prime Rib of Beef
Roast Chicken Rosemary
Chicken Parmigiana
BBQ Chicken or BBQ Baby Back Ribs
and the last course is a gooey, creamy, raspberry sponge cake.
Of course, I have the Maine Lobster!!
We have the Boys in the Hood,