Opportunity Knocks

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. I shivered in my thin blouse and short A-line skirt and desperately searched for shelter. It’s weird how I arrived here. I had been walking along Jackson Street. It was a beautiful day and instead of taking the bus, I’d decided to walk the two miles to my apartment. I had been looking at the multi-hued blue-ish sky and constructing animals from the soft-looking puffy clouds. I’d taken off my work shoes with their uncomfortable heels and had put on the ratty sneakers I’d stored in my desk just for such an occasion.

I’d really needed the walk. The work day was nothing special. I’d completed the tasks I’d been working on and caught up on the email. Since I was in charge of troubleshooting for the IT department (a/k/a problem solving or idiot-babysitting, depending on the issue), I’d had my share of weird issues coming my way. I’d been feeling antsy all day and wondered if something was wrong with the universe. Or at least my part of the world. 

So, now I’m standing in the snow, shivering, wondering how I’d arrived here. And how to solve the problem of returning to my walk home on a bright, beautiful afternoon. First, I mused, you must identify the issue. Identify the issue, huh? That’s how I begin most problem solving. This is a little different, but what’ve I got to lose? The issue is that I’m standing somewhere freezing in the freaking snow, achingly cold, wearing nothing but a thin blouse and a short skirt. The second issue, which I plan to resolve next, is determining how to get back to where I started. 

First things first, though. I need shelter and fast. I peer into the dark, poorly lit streets and look for any sign of life. Street lamps were non-existent. In fact, I didn’t see many lights in windows at all. I peered more intently. Are those some shabby houses in the distance? Should I walk over to those houses and knock on doors until someone let me in to use their telephone? Should I look for a public place like a grocery store or library? Should I find the police department? 

Decisions, decisions. As I tentatively stepped forward to continue my search for shelter, I heard a noise behind me. A raucous laugh followed the eerie squeaking of an opening door. I made a quick about-face. Maybe that signifies a warm place to go. I saw a tall woman exiting a brick building. The building was small and shone with the light of several lanterns. Lanterns? Quaint but no time to think about that now. The woman who exited wore a red wool cap. The cap covered braids which extended out to her shoulders, a long, bulky checkered coat and a matching flannel skirt that peeked underneath the hem of the coat. “Damn girl! You do know how to look out your window before you go out, don’t you?” Sarcasm dripped from every word. “You don’t even have on a coat. Do you think you live in the desert? Or are you one of those girls who takes a dip in the cold ocean water in January and you’re just prepping now?”

“None of the above!” I responded tartly. I grabbed the door as I flapped my hand weakly in her direction and rushed into the warm room. She jerked the door from my hand and slammed it, all the while muttering something about crazy white people not knowing how to come in from the cold.

White people? Did I look like I was white? I’ve never been called white before. I paused as I listened to the music of Julie Lee’s popular jazz swing tune of the 1940s, Snatch and Grab It. While in college, my sister took a class on the history of jazz and she was captivated by the vocals and piano playing of Julie Lee. I’d listened to the tunes of Julie Lee all during my high school years. The sound of her voice made me want to sing and dance. And the song that was currently playing on the old record player was one of my sister’s favorites. The record player had the scratchy and unmistakeable sounds of a vinyl LP. Record player. Hmmm. I’ll come back to that later. I was distracted and disturbed by what the exiting woman had said.

Oh my gosh, I started as I stared in shock at the mirror above the fireplace. The face staring back was me, but not me. My formerly caramel-colored skin was the blanched color of cooked cabbage. My beautiful crown of corkscrew coils was gone and instead I had straw-colored straight hair that reached my shoulders. I look like a white person! How’d THAT happen? No wonder the woman made that comment at the door. And no wonder everyone in this room was staring at me.

This must be a nightmare, I thought. This nightmare that dropped me into this wet, cold, snowy fantasy. I pinched myself and said ouch. So, this isn’t a dream, unless I’m dreaming that it hurt when I pinched myself. But only in a nightmare would something like this happen.

My mind brightened for a moment. If this is a nightmare, I can use my problem solving skills to get me where I want to be. For the moment, I’ve solved the cold and shivering problem. I’d managed to walk into a place whose physical warmth helped stop my shivering. A place where I’d normally fit in. Now I need to find out where I am and how I can get back to what seems like my long-ago walk home in the sunshine.

My eyes roamed the room hoping to find someone who could let me know what was going on. My eyes stopped first on an older man who had a full head of grey hair and smooth umber-colored skin. He held an unlit pipe in his mouth into which he stuffed tobacco and tamped it down. His hazel eyes rose and glared at me. He can’t smoke in here. No smoking inside. But nope, not him, I thought. He doesn’t seem like he wants to help me. 

A few feet away, at a table for two, a relatively young-looking woman with long dark brown hair gawked at me. Her red lips were shaped in a tight line across the bottom of her face and very light but noticeable frown lines were etched on her forehead. Her eyes were shiny black pools of night. She was holding hands with a woman whose skin was shiny and bright. That woman had laugh lines on both sides of her mouth. But her dark brown eyes looked emptily at me and reflected a glare. Neither seemed amused to see me.

I sighed and turned to my other side to see who else might be around. A kindred spirit, I thought. I saw a tall man, who seemed to be all legs, slouched in a chair near the back of the room. His ebony eyes bored into me. I suddenly felt as though I had arrived at a play where someone had forgotten to give me my lines. I tentatively walked toward him. His bone-colored skin made me think he might help me. But as I walked, his forehead wrinkled and a frown appeared. He silently watched me approach and uttered no greeting. 

“Hello there, sir.” My voice was hoarse from nervousness and the cold. “Could you tell me something?”

He looked me up and down as he responded, “Sure, ma’am. If I know it.”

I cleared my throat and stated, “I was wondering where I am.”

His abrupt chortle startled me. His had been the laughter I heard earlier that brought me to this place. “You lost, ma’am? That explains why you’re here.”

“What do you mean? And where is here anyway?” 

“Here is Joe’s Lounge.” His response was curt.

“I need to know more than that. What city is this?”

“What city? You drunk or high or something?”

I sighed, resigned to this unreal conversation. “I’m not drunk or high. I’m not sure how I got here. I need to know where I am so I can figure out how to get back home."

His eyes stared blankly into mine. “You’re in Lincoln in the state of Nebraska in the U S of A on the planet earth.” He said sardonically. “Is that enough information for you?”

The blood drained from my face. I had been walking home from work in Omaha, Nebraska and now I’m somehow in Lincoln. I can’t explain how I got here, but at least I know I can get a ride back to Omaha. I just need to find transportation. Then it hit me. What about the music. And the exiting woman’s comment? I realized I needed to know more than he’d given me. “What year is it?”

“You kidding me? It’s been 1949 since January first. In the year of our Lord.” 

I staggered at the news. I’d been walking home from my job in Omaha in the year 2023. It had been a sunny beautiful day. And now I had arrived in Lincoln, Nebraska in 1949 to a cold, snowy dark day.

“Can I sit?” I asked while I grabbed a chair and plopped down. 

“You can do anything you want, ma’am.”

“I have to figure some things out.”

“I’m sure you do.” He glanced at my thin blouse and skirt again and continued, “You do know how to get out of the cold? Or did someone kick you out of their house?”

I looked at him but had no idea how to respond. I was trying to problem solve by identifying the issue and finding solutions but nothing came to mind. I could see the problem: I was in Lincoln, Nebraska during the winter of 1949. I needed to be in Omaha, Nebraska during the spring of 2023. But would this man believe me? And even if he did, which I doubted, what could he do about it?

Without warning, I felt an overwhelming dread about this encounter. I projected forward to a time when this man went to jail for attacking a white woman. I stood up suddenly, knocked my chair back and rushed to the door. Before I touched the door handle, I realized I didn’t have many choices. If I left, where would I go? And how would I stay warm? I began to shiver again before I had even reached the door.

“Ma’am.” The soft voice repeated, “Ma’am, you may not want to go out there without something warm on. It’s snowing a fair bit right now and it’s slippery, too.” I turned at those words and looked into the eyes of a thin woman whose dark brown skin was folded into many tiny wrinkles. “Sit down here with me and I’ll get you some hot tea with honey.” She searched my eyes and attire again. “And a little rum, too.”

Tears flowed down my cheeks. Come on, I thought, I’m a grown woman with a responsible job that requires all kinds of problem-solving and I’m crying? Get a grip! This is just another problem to solve. And I have the tools. So why am I crying? About what? But the woman gently patted my back and waited for the tears to subside. “What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Penny. And I’m not a ma’am. I’m just Penny.” 

“Okay, Penny, ma’am. I-we’re just being polite. We don’t see too many women like you out this way.”

“I’m not…..” then I wavered. Who would believe me if I told them that I’d been turned into a white woman when I’d time-traveled backwards to 1949 from 2023? I don’t even know how to start that conversation. But then again, what the hey? How could I solve this problem that’s bigger than I am if I don’t let someone know? I can’t even begin to think of solutions. I’m a mess, I concluded. I’m usually so clear-headed and know my own mind.

“Thank you for the offer of spiked tea. I’ll take you up on that. It’ll help me get warm and decide what to do next.” I sat down and swiped at the last of the tears. “This is a nice place. And I love Julie Lee!”

The woman stared at me. “You know the music of Julie Lee? That woman with her piano and her voice makes you want to dance or sing or cry at the words or any of the above.” She looked askance at me, as if wondering how a white woman in the 1940s would know about Julie Lee. I didn’t and couldn’t explain. At least not yet.

Without warning, the door opened with a blast of cold wind and two police officers barged into the room. Without explanation, they rounded up and searched everyone except me. They stopped with the man who had been slouched over the chair and asked, “Where you been, boy? Heard you were where you weren’t supposed to be a few minutes ago, attacking a white woman.”

The man defiantly responded, “I didn’t attack no one…..sirs. I been right here for the last couple of hours.”

“Officers,” I interjected. “I’ve been here for awhile and this man was already here when I got here.” I realized in that moment why I had arrived at this place at this time with this look.

“Are you sure, ma’am?” The officers looked carefully at me. “Did he threatened you to get you to say that?”

“No, of course not.” I continued. “I came in here to drink tea with my lady over here and saw him here. I don’t even know him. I just know he’s been here awhile. And you want to get the man who actually attacked the woman.” I faked a shiver of fear. “I want you to get that dangerous man, whoever he is, off the streets.”

The officers relented and stopped questioning the man. “Thank you for your help, ma’am.” One officer said. “And you take care, too.”

As the officers left the shop, I stood up and found myself walking home from work in the sunshine of the day. The words of “Snatch and Grab It” played in my head. “Opportunity knocks but once And it don’t come back no more. So grab it in the night, grab it in the day, Grab it right now or it may get away.”