Part of my to do list today is laundry. At home, simple enough. Through a series of unimportant and, yet, annoying events, I'm in the Shaw-Howard University area of DC at a laundromat. Yesterday at the Willard next to the White House. Today in a laundromat in an area of the city not on the tours. Talk about a reality check. I did get to meet G, which I assume is short for Grandma. And she seems to be everyone's. When I called before leaving the hotel, I asked if it had both washers and dryers and her response was direct, "it's a laundromat isn't it?" I've watched her greet everyone whose come in. I walked in and saw her assessing me. I'm the only white person I'd seen in three blocks from the Metro and so she was right to assume I was out of place.
She has loaned extra quarters til 'next time' and shared her breakfast with another patron who asked. Even folks not doing laundry have stuck their head in to say hi. There is a man who appears to have a mental illness and she sat him on the bench I was on. I had to smile. As he sat down, he eyed me cautiously and G said, "that white boy ain't gonna hurt you." then she shot me a look I remember from my childhood. My grandmother was a formidable woman too.
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