My Summers at the Nile...

As a youngster growing up in Yeadon some of my fondest memories are of the summers spent at our swim club - The Nile. The Nile was the first privately owned black swim club in the country and was built in response to our parent's inability to join the all white Yeadon Swim Club.  When the membership applications of black residents submitted to the Yeadon Swim Club were repeatedly denied, lost or put on the endless waiting list the black residents responded to the not so veiled discrimination by investing their dollars buying a parcel of land in "our section" and constructing a membership based swim club. And, although in the early years only the black folks joined our swim club the Nile did not discriminate.

The Nile was our summer vacation spot.  When we were little our dads went off to work and our moms would pack us up and we would spend the summer days at the pool.  While we ran, played and swam our moms participated in bridge and pinochle games and tournaments, soaked in the sun and caught up on the neighborhood news.  After swim lessons we kids would play and swim well into the night. Once the sun went down the teenagers would take over the pavilion.  The yellow lights created an atmosphere better than any basement party. The juke box played endlessly; after all a quarter bought you five songs.  I remember watching my older sister and her friends dance in perfect time displaying the moves and steps that they had worked on all week in our living room.  I couldn't wait until it was my turn to select the songs and bust the moves.

As we got older the summers for the most part were pretty much the same, we became the older kids and many of our moms started to work outside the home.  The Nile was our place.

I remember a special time that always seemed to occur around mid-August. There are those few days in August when the Canadian air makes its way to the east coast. When this happens the air feels a little crisper, the water in the pool is just a little colder and you reach for that favorite sweatshirt.  When these days occurred it seemed to slow us down and give us pause. We would swim less and talk more.  We would talk about the summer, the craziness, the games, the gossip.  Who was still going together, who had broken up and what had made the summer so much fun.  On these days we would sit a little closer and our conversations were a little lower.  We weren't yelling across the pool trying to get someones attention.

These memories are particularly fond because from the age of about 12 to 16  I had the same summer boyfriend.  Meaning, no matter who held my interest during the school year when June 15th came around they were put on hold.  From June 16th through Labor day my interest and heart was held by Dwight. He was my DuPont and I was his Red Girl and from Sunday through Saturday from  noon, when either his mom or his bus dropped him off,  until  6 ,when he was either picked up or had to catch the bus back home we were inseparable.  And when these crisp days would come we would stand in the corner of the deep end for hours talking about our dreams and hopes. We had to be careful though,  if his mom showed up and saw us in that corner there was hell to pay because it did not "look right".  But I can tell you it was probably the most innocent time of my life.

If we were not in that corner in 5' we were on the bench or the wall.  Sitting there wearing my favorite over sized Wildwood sweatshirt with my towel wrapped around my legs we would talk all day long and invariably our conversation always ended with the realization that summer was nearly over;  that in a few weeks we would no longer have the pool.  In the earlier years we vowed that come June 16th it would be the two of us. As we got older we promised we would keep our connection throughout the school year, that we would not let it end with Labor Day.  We promised to take each other to our high school proms and dances and to actually go on dates.  But somehow that never happened.  Our lives by the end of 1972 took different paths.  He went off to college and I became involved with the guy that I would marry and with whom I would have two beautiful children.  And even when our paths would cross again in later years we both came to realize that maybe the magic of our relationship was the carefree summertime and the Nile Swim Club.

I will tell you though no matter where I am when that crisp air blows to the east coast for those few days in mid-August I find myself reminiscing about the Nile, our great summers, the bench and the corner in 5'.  I always find my way back to the conversations and the hopes and dreams we shared and  I hope that he is as happy as I am. I hope that when he feels that crisp air in August  and he realizes that summer is almost over that he thinks about the Nile... and me .... just a little... maybe.

My Biggest Fear? Getting Stopped By The Police.....

The recent police events have brought me back to the BLOG.  For the first time in my life I am honestly afraid to have certain interactions based solely on the color of my skin.  Riots and civil unrest have occurred in these United States of America in almost every decade of every century.  Most notably are those that occurred from the 1940's through the 1960's. Watts, Chicago, Detroit, Philadelphia, Newark, New York City, Rochester NY most occurring during the summer months of July and August.  The majority of these uprisings stemmed from either real or perceived police brutality.  July and August 2014 is no different; in a 4 week period spanning these two months four black men ranging in age from their teens to their 40's have been killed at the hands of police across the country.

Unless you or someone close to you have been violated by the police it is difficult to wrap your mind around how traumatizing the event can be.  Quite frankly although it seems to be open [hunting] season on black men both young and old, no one is excluded.  Black women, Latinos, and white men have also been brutalized, albeit they are more likely to walk away with bruises, remnants of taser effects and handcuff burns where as black men more often leave the scene in a body bag.

The murder of Michael Brown, an unarmed, college bound, clean record (apparently the media found it necessary to try and see if he had "a record") is the 4th murder at the hands of a police officer.  There must be justice.  Let me be perfectly clear... I cannot and will not condone or cosign the community violence.  I believe the riots to be the result of opportunists and not the result of the frustrations experienced by the community as in previous eras.   

I am angry.            

I am outraged.       

I am fearful. 

My biggest fear is getting stopped by the police.  Where do I place my hands, do I look them in the eye or will that be construed as an act of aggression.  Do I remain in my car or do I step out of the car.  Am I allowed to ask "Officer why am I being stopped".  Apparently placing my hands in the air to show that I am not armed and am not being aggressive can be construed as a threat.

When someone throws you on the ground and yells "stop resisting arrest" as you lay dead still do you hope and pray that someone, anyone is capturing this interaction via video.  Do you not protect yourself from the body blows, the kicks, the baton hits, the taser or, do you will yourself  to a lifeless state as your survival may clearly depend on it.  This is not a dramatization, this is what goes through my head.

I fear for my husband, I fear for my sisters my sons and daughters, grandsons and granddaughters,  nieces and nephews and friends.  What interaction is appropriate?  I can now honestly appreciate the bowed head and shuffle of our southern brothers and sisters from earlier eras but we cannot regress we cannot give into to this lunacy.  We cannot allow little people with shiny badges and heavy weapons to take control of our society.

We have to stand straight with chins parallel to the ground.  We have to take a stand against this police state.  We cannot allow ourselves to be subjugated in these United States where our forefathers and mothers shed their blood so we could have a better life.

It is time for us, the law abiding citizens, to close ranks as a society.  Standing shoulder to shoulder we must send the message to out of control police and the administrations that defend them and allow them to murder under the badge that deadly force will not be accepted, it will not be tolerated.  We must send the message to elected officials that they must put a stop to this 21st century lynching process.

It is so out of control that it seems surreal.  This kill and defend mentality must be shut down.  I will not allow my fear to allow this craziness to continue.

Wearing a hoodie - putting your hands in the air ...  is not enough.