“You can’t write about what goes on in the locker room,” my husband said to me. “That’s sacrosanct.”

“Don’t men talk in the locker room?” I asked.

“They don’t chat,” Martin said. “They just go about their business. Shave. Shower. At a golf course they’re in a hurry to get dressed and meet at the bar. Now if you’re talking about a team locker room…that’s different. There’s camaraderie.”

Granted I have never been present in a men’s locker room but can it be true they don’t compliment one another’s outfits or discuss civic affairs? I am a latecomer to the locker room, desperate in high school for any excuse from P.E. and previously only familiar with the women’s locker room before and after family swim at the Ballard Pool. But here I am 50, getting my money’s worth every week for the price of a $38/month membership at Ballard Health Club.

Women don’t always talk in the locker room at the health club. During busy periods after work that coincide with popular classes there are lots of women ages 18-85 simply dressing side-by-side by lockers. By contrast there’s the dynamic of mid-afternoon on a weekday. On this particular day there were lots of machines open, no classes in progress. A woman came out of the shower in her towel; my friend and I shifted to give her space.

The woman must have overheard something that we said, perhaps signaling to her that we were two harmless women. “I’ve just moved to the area,” she said. “Can either of you recommend a good doctor, an internist?” She has lived near Washington D.C. for the last 30 years. We volunteered two doctors, a dentist as well and moved on to hair salons. “I should be writing this down,” she said.
As we set up next to other on machines that substitute in winter months for commuting by bicycle in the dark my friend said, “We didn’t even get her name.”

It made perfect sense to me that a woman in a locker room had asked our advice. Could a supermarket aisle ever be as intimate as a room where women are without the armor of clothing, cell phones or shopping carts?

Back in the locker room, preparing for a blustery walk face-first into the wind, I mentioned that a woman who’d sent me a press release for the Design Review meeting for a new playground at Salmon Bay School had also mentioned they are having a second annual spelling bee on February 5th. A woman who’d just entered the locker room dressed in outside clothes stopped to listen, hooked either by the reference to spelling or Salmon Bay School.

“Spelling is not my forte,” my friend said, pronouncing it like the fort in “F Troop,” the way that her mother taught her.

“Isn’t it forté?” I asked. A discussion began about different pronunciations. (My friend’s mother was right, but Americans prefer it with two syllables). The dressed woman shared that she’s taking a course on language. Another woman emerged from the shower and dried off. Although she wasn’t part of the conversation at first a smile would cross her lips at various intervals that indicated she was listening.

Within ten minutes we were five women, all dressed but still talking. The discussion had progressed from language to the realization that everyone was connected by a present, former or potential student at Salmon Bay. Even those who hadn’t met before were able to identify each other’s children, from second grade or recently seen bicycling to Ballard High School. The woman who’d first perked up her ears at the spelling bee announcement had made no move to change into her workout clothes. We realized one woman’s husband currently answers to the title of mayor.

“I stopped by your husband’s office when I was on jury duty,” spelling bee woman said. “I didn’t talk to your husband but one of his aides was very nice to me. I’m worried about all the teenagers on the streets of Ballard, and by the library. I know many of them are homeless.”

“I called the paramedics one day because one boy was tripping and needed help. I remember him from elementary school. Since then I’ve called Youth Care. I’ve talked to the librarians. I talked to the mayor’s office. Keep calling they all tell me. Keep writing. People don’t know there’s a problem with teen homelessness in Ballard. They think it’s somewhere else.”
“It’s the mother in me,” she concluded. “I can’t just walk by.”

“I wish there was a way that we could fund the schools and programs better,” my friend said. “It’s too bad we aren’t asked to contribute a dollar for schools every time we shop the way they do for diabetes or another disease.”
“Like a United Way for schools,” another woman agreed. “These kids fall through the cracks.”

Then someone noticed the time and the impromptu meeting ended. No one had exchanged names or numbers, just ideas and concerns, shared their resolve not to look away from the homeless, teenaged or otherwise. So many people on forums voice their opinion that providing services in Ballard is increasing the homeless population, but it’s possible that with teenagers we are also growing our own.

I don’t know what men discuss in the locker room and we didn’t solve any problems in the women’s, but we admitted that they exist. In the women’s locker room it’s almost always a team sport. And we like to talk about it.

The Salmon Bay School Playground Community Design Workshop is Saturday, January 22, 10:00 a.m to noon at Ballard First Lutheran Church. Contact robin@lofstsrom.com for more information.
Youth Care is at www.youthcare.org
The Salmon Bay Spelling Bee is open to the public. February 5th at 7 p.m. at the tricycle church on 20th Avenue NW.