JAVA Feb 2020

GIRL ON FARMER
MYOB
BY CELIA BERESFORD
Minding my own business has never been a strong
suit. I don’t think of myself of nosy or prying, just that
I like to know what’s going on. Recently though, I’ve
noticed that when my friend Lori and I take walks
around our neighborhood, we sound like a couple of
80-year-olds. Who is that? What are they doing over
there? Why is the garbage can tipped over? What
is that guy up to? Whose dog is that? The finale is
when Lori takes a wadded-up tissue out of her sleeve
and blows her nose complaining of allergies and I
declare, “I’m writing a letter to those assholes at City
Council about this!” We make quite a pair.
To be honest, Lori is better at minding her own
(sometimes), and at the very least, because she
is working on being like the Buddha, she typically
catches herself before I do. Even so, because of the
sketchy things that happen, there are people you
just have to keep your eye on, whether you like it or
not. Lori calls this, sadly, “fulfilling the stereotypes.”
What that means is when a person or persons end
up doing the things that you wish they weren’t doing
because certain people suspect them of doing it
and then feel smugly validated when the person or
persons are in fact doing it.
For example, a few weeks ago two young African-
American boys were riding their bikes around the
neighborhood. A neighbor was out glaring at them and
“warned” me that they had been riding around for hours.
I let him know that 10-year-old kids tend to do that –
ride bikes for hours – at least that’s what they should
be doing instead of staring at screens all day. I walked
away feeling satisfied. But then the next day, the
boys were quickly zig-zagging around on their bikes
and they came darting out of this same neighbor’s
apartment complex. One of the boys yelled to the
other, “Hurry! This way!” Seconds later, the glaring
neighbor from the day before was running down the
sidewalk shouting, “They stole my mail!” Sigh. That’s
an example of “fulfilling the stereotypes.”
So, this weekend when I was trying to mind my own
business, I noticed a scruffy-looking lad, who some
might say looked a little methy, cruising the street.
Or he could just be kind of into that look. He had a
pretty decent road bike and didn’t have the signature
pockmarks of a meth head. It was a toss-up, and once
I made sure my own bike was securely locked, I didn’t
38 JAVA
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