02 July 2010
 
Area B


(Area B at Big Pink. Photo Socotra LLC)
 
I was on the balcony at Big Pink. The high summer being upon us, access to the sun is starting to be a factor on the pool deck after work.
 
Work steals access to PRT- Prime Ray Time-  and by the time the whistle blows in Ballston, the shadows are now starting to steal across the west side of the pool deck. On the fourth floor, the sun’s warmth is still bright. The equation will continue to tilt into the late summer, but the practical effect is to make the timing of exercise in the shade coexist with exploiting the dying of the sun.
 
I was reading on the balcony, soaking in the rays as the sun cooperated by setting on an arc between the towering maples across the street. That is another challenge, since as the days grow shorter the taller of the two trees to the south of the aperture will put me in the shade a full half-hour earlier than it does now.
 
I was listening to the radio account of the President’s address about comprehensive immigration reform. I have no idea why he is staking the claim now; there is no possibility of a bill being passed this late in the legislative season. I assumed he was positioning his Administration for the coming mid-term elections.
 
It was his first speech devoted entirely to immigration policy, and it was a curious one. He tried to strike a balance between border security, which plays to the right, and planning a route to citizenship for what the radio said later was eleven million illegals already here.
 
It was puzzling. Weren’t there twice that many undocumented people here when the health care thing was such a controversy? I must be slipping.
 
It was sort of like the deployment of the National Guard to the border, which was intended to send a decisive message that Washington actually cared about the border. The reality is that the deployment is strictly limited and the Rules of Engagement keeps the Guard out of potential conflict with the narco-traffickers.
 
Don’t get me wrong. I am not sure I have a better political answer, if I was interested in keeping a majority in the Congress. As a regular citizen, I am more concerned with the loss of the Southwest, and think the undocumented should be sent home to get their shit straight.
 
Like the men who stream through the parking lot on their way to the feeding program at the church across the street at five o’clock each night. They have taken to lounging on the bench next to the grill at the end of Area B of the pool, which is shaded by the trees and the wall where the outside shower is. Live and let live, I say, except when someone is trampling on your rights.
 
My younger son was coming over for dinner, and I saw him strolling toward the building, so I closed my book and came back inside from the sun, which was arcing into the trees.

When he walked in, he looked at me and challenged the basis of my ethnicity due to the depth of color on my skin.
 
I smiled. I don’t think I have got as good a base to my tan since the endless days in the Indian Ocean long ago. It is a matter of strategic placement and planning.
 
The thing I know, along with the fact that this is probably not good in the long term, is that it drives away the lethargy of the darkness.
 
When we finished dining and cleaning up, he went off with the Bluesmobile to the delights of the Wilson Boulevard Corridor, and I went back out on the balcony to catch the last few minutes of the day.
 
Speedo-man was just finishing his ritual. He is someone else I would like to have documented. He is a Frenchman by origin, which accounts for his conduct. He has his timing, too, and swam in the shade. He appeared in the aperture between my trees and took his post-swim ablution under the outside shower, tugging the back of his tiny suit to rinse his nether parts. I stared in horror, unable to look away.
 
This was the conduct that horrified some of the regular female pool users, who likewise have their rhythms, and landed him on the docket of the Community Manager.
I would deport him, if I had the power. He is an exhibitionist, and looked up to see who might be interested in what he had on display. He saw me on the balcony and waved. I waved back, resisting the urge to tell him that Area B of the pool had been designated a smoking area by the Board.
 
It is a pity it is in the shade, but we can work around that.
 
I was going to get you the recipe for seafood paella today, but there will be plenty of time for that over the long weekend. It comes from Spain or Mexico, I forget, and I don’t know how it got across the border.
 
Copyright 2010 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
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