Little old ladies and dirty old men

I always used to think the best of little old ladies and most little old men. They just look so harmless and adorable.

Now many old men I have had a problem in the past with in India where they sometimes grabbed my chest and derriere, even while walking alongside their wives. Horrid fellows. Here I find them staring at said body parts but at least they don't touch.

But little old ladies I had faith in as the milk of human adorable-ness and innocence. All that fluffy hair you know, and soft pink cheeks.

All that changed when I was on Devon street in Chicago with my in-laws. We were in an electronics shop deciding what brand of VCD player to get them when I tired of their discussions and stepped out. There a foot or so away by a bus stop stood the stereotypical little old lady, cherubic, rosy cheeked, dressed in fluffy clothes etc etc. She saw me and waved. I went up to her and said hello. She told me she was going somewhere to take a class and that she went everywhere she wanted without a care. How sweet, I thought. My in-laws stepped out of the store and I started to take my leave but she was just getting started. My sons live here, my daughters live there, she said.

My in-laws and husband started to walk towards us and just as soon as they were within earshot, my little old lady started talking about her late husband--he was the nicest man and then she switched gears and told me in some graphic terms how her husband and she used to ahem ahem...between the sheets and how fantastic her orgasms were. I was never more grateful for my in-laws' less than perfect English. My mother in law started to furrow her brows but seemed not fully aware of what was being said. The old woman then touched my arm and started to launch into more raunchiness when I had to throw politeness to the wind and leave her in mid-sentence. "Sorry, she was so chatty..." I said to my family and rushed them away.

I always cringed thinking about this woman, but now I wonder how prejudiced of me that was. That the conversation was totally inappropriate for a stranger aside, I was being judgmental because she was supposed to be an adorable old woman, not capable of such thought. I mean who likes to think of their parents ahem ahem. And we don't find polar bears so adorable if we see them shagging, do we?

I don't know if it's the "No sex please, we're Indian," type of thinking in me or just my preconceived notions of how someone is supposed to act and appear at a certain age that blurred my thinking.

This is one relatively harmless prejudice, if you will, but the same could be said of those prejudiced against gays for instance. The picture of two men or women having a carnal relationship is abhorrent to some. Do prejudices start this way as a distaste and slowly morph into closing your mind against that which is uncomfortable and then change even into hate.

Will such a foolish misplaced discomfort about skin prevent a good man from taking on one of the most powerful positions on the planet next week?

I thought of myself as an extremely open minded person but I do find myself cringing when I hear certain things discussed too openly, very crude jokes disturb me. Or maybe all I am is a bit of a prude. Is that just part of being civilized or should it all be out there in the open to be talked about? What is it that makes one truly liberal, uninhibited?

Maybe if I could just streak across Grant Park, I'd lose all inhibitions. My writing wouldn't be called quiet anymore since I'd be able to do more than scratch the surface of human emotion and draw blood for the editors to relish. I'd be able to bare it all in a manner of speaking.

Alas. I'll have to do it only figuratively for my (post baby) stomach sags too much and holding my breath (in order to look good while doing this) for that long would be way too hard!