Yoga contortion over war |
Once I did yoga. It went all right, until it didn’t.
Late in the class we wound up on our hands and knees with heads forward and lowered. Our tail-ends were aloft. As I remember the trauma, our left legs were extended behind us and bent at the knee. The instructor directed that we rotate that left hip and left leg first inward, then outward. She mentioned something about fire hydrants.
We’d done this maneuver on the right side, and I had managed, albeit unsatisfactorily and with a bit of arduousness. But this left hip was stubborn as my granddaddy’s mule on a bad day when it came to going where the instructor seemed to assume it would routinely go.
She said, here, let me help you, if you don’t mind. I said I didn’t. She manipulated my posterior region before saying, oh, dear, mine was the most closed hip she’d ever encountered. Many retorts occurred to me, but none were helpful, and she excused me from further fire-hydrant activity.
When I said I was leaving five minutes early to get to the tennis league, which was in the vicinity of truth, and then did so, she remarked to the class, according to my good source in the room, that she knew I wouldn’t be back. And I never was.
So, in 2016, I had coffee at a trendy place in Hillcrest with Bud Cummins. Stay with me here.
He was the chairman of........