Shorondra Reynolds -- Baltimore Memories
When Shorondra Reynolds was a baby we lived in a row of Baltimore brownstones on the edge of Pigtown. Just me and my mother, back when there were no single mothers, just Adele’s mother or Mary’s mama, Kiki’s madear, and their like. It was a time when a five year-old with a buzzing in her ear could be led by the hand down dark basement stairs with the custodian, Mr. Mackey, to the hot spot where kids older than my five years, did nasty things under the stairwell. A time when all that was needed to see a fly go about its business and me mine, was a piece of penny toffee and flashlight held close to the ear.
1902 Hollis was a building where everyone knew everyone else. Not because there was a welcome wagon, ladies who went out of their way to greet new neighbors, but because the two-story building with 4-one bedroom and 3-two bedroom apartments was that small. We knew Miss Reynolds because Miss Carol in A-2 watched Miss Reynolds’s brother’s kids on the weekends, and though big, hard headed boys, if you were short a nickel for ice cream, they would give you one, because their father was a mechanic and he was rich. Just like Miss Reynolds soon learned me and my mother’s names and which apartment we stayed in not only because of the mailbox's small bronze name slot, but because 1902 was a noisy building, what my mother sometimes, getting her words twisted, mistakenly called nosey. If mothers yelled out, called children by full given names and not nicknames, this told of impending punishments, just as the raucous noise coming from Miss Reynolds’ apartment Saturday evenings let everyone know her $1 to play, or .50 cents to gawk Bid Whist night was underway.
Delhi Journal: Are You a Delhi-Ite?
Let’s pause here for this disclaimer: The people of Delhi can be very hospitable, warm and generous. The kinds of behavior I’m generalizing about may be the exception rather than the rule — and may not be that uncommon in any large city. And I’m not referring to anyone who spends less than 32 rupees a day . Let’s proceed.
Still, it’s probably fair to say that there are a number of behaviors Delhi folks display that appear a little brusque at first. Have you ever held open a door for someone? I have — only to find mother, baby and ayah sail by with nary a word or look of acknowledgment.
Have you ever stood in a line? And had someone hurry up and squeeze themselves in front of you. After being rendered speechless, you clear your throat and start saying, “Oh bhai sahib, did you not see me here?” At which point, said person will look around in utter surprise, making it clear to you that he, in fact, had completely failed to see the five or six people already standing there, their faces plastered with expressions of bored resignation.