Presenting one of Oakland’s premiere escapes, Lake Merritt, America’s first wildlife refuge (1870), home to picnic tables, canoes and rowboats, shaded paths, Fairyland amusement park, and a bird sanctuary. Sadly not one of my good days with a camera, only a pair of almost adequate shots:
But the conversation was pretty good.
On Saturday afternoon, Lake Merritt also became the escape of a father and daughter. He was about 30, six foot two at least, African-American, lean and muscular, she was about four, both dressed mostly in white. She had reached that age when children do not say “Yes” or “No,” they say “Yyyyyyyyes!” or “Nnnnnnno!” with great enthusiam and always the exclamation point.
Which made their Very Serious Discussion rather interesting.
“You think Daddy should walk, while Mommy and you drive?”
“Don’t you think Daddy should drive, while you and Mommy walk?”
“How about Daddy and you drive, while Mommy walks?”
“But my car isn’t broken.”
“And Mommy broke her car.”
“And you still think Daddy should walk, while you and Mommy drive?”
“I cannot agree with this assessment. I think you’re being unfair.”
“Are you agreeing with Mommy just because you and she are girls and I’m a boy?”
“Just because you’re girls?”
“OK, I need to teach you something about prejudice…”
At which point I had stop following them because rehearsal lay in a different direction.
Vonn Scott Bair