Friday, July 14, 2006

In The Pink

I can't quite figure this out.

Cuppa and I decided to spend a quiet hour in the park this afternoon. After making the requisite all-Canadian coffee stop, we sauntered over to a shady bench on the banks of the Mississippi River, the unmighty one. We rested at approximately the same bench where I photographed Cuppa seven posts ago. Although the day was hot, it was quite pleasant under the grand, old willow by the water's edge; the cooling breeze also served to ameliorate the heat.

A man greeted us as he walked by. Moments later, I noticed him, at least I thought it was him, on the bench about twenty feet to our right. He had his shirt off, or did he? It was hard to tell; perhaps he was wearing a pink muscle shirt. I didn't think so, but I kept glancing his way in hopes of figuring it out.

Before leaving, I accidentally-on-purpose meandered by his bench in order to get a better view. Sure enough, he was pink from the sun. Being a kindly and good-hearted chap, I drew this to his attention. In a concerned voice: "Hello there, you may not realize it, but you're very pink."

I am still processing his response: "It's okay, I'm used to the sun. I'm from Las Vegas." I say that I am still processing it because to my mind, pink is pink, sunburnt is sunburnt — wherever you hail from (or for purists — from wherever you hail).

However, I wasn't about to question the man's sanity, so we chatted amiably for a moment. I told that I had been somewhat proximate to Las Vegas when we visited Arizona not so very long ago. We talked about the weather down thataway and a little about our trip: where we went and what we saw. I inquired how it was that he was lazing by the banks of the Mississippi River so far from home. It turns out that he owns a cottage nearby. He likes it here; he finds it very peaceful and safe. Good old, relatively crime-free Canada, eh? Tell that to the average Joseph or Josephine in Toronto.

We wished each other well. I collected Cuppa, but as we ambled back to the car, I remained puzzled about why that sunburn didn't matter. I guess I'm just a dumb Canadian, but is a sunburn not a sunburn?


Turtle Guy said...

"wherever you hail from (or for purists — from wherever you hail).
" were thinking of me, that's sweet.

Tammy said...

So you CAN get pink in Canada...;)

Enjoy your writing style, by the way!

mreddie said...

No matter where a person is from, extreme pink hurts, especially on my bald head. Learned that years ago and don't let my head out now without a hat. ec

Bonita said...

He will regret this, tomorrow.

Gina said...

In this case, pink is NOT a good color on him.

PBS said...

Maybe he was embarrassed that he got sunburned in Canada, ha ha!

Granny said...

I've lived in the west for some time.

The tough guys burn, peel, burn, peel, and usually look like leather.

They scoff at skin cancer or sunscreen.

Simply Coll said...

A sunburn is definitely a sunburn. And if he did not feel the consequences of it that evening .. his skin will eventually pay the price in the years to come. Maybe he thinks our Canadian sun is not capable of a good burn.

Cathy said...

You've revealed the 'mother-hen' in the heart of you:0) I've just returned from a month on Cape Cod where I had to restrain myself from wandering up to each parent of every toddler and offering them my sunscreen. Ditto the panting dogs - you'd be amazed (or not) at the umbrage people take when you suggest their dog might want a little sip from your Evian water. My husband is worse than I with the dogs. I think we need grandkids in order to work out some of this hyper-vigilance with other people's young ones and pets.