Last week I was at the San Diego Zoo.  So was the Lady In Pink.  The Lady In Pink was an elderly woman with crisp grey hair and a plain pink sweatshirt who has been going to the zoo several times a week for fifteen years.  When I first saw the Lady In Pink, she was talking to the orangutans.  That the orangutans appeared to be talking back seemed like a mild coincidence.  Poor dear.  Just a lonely woman thinking that the creatures could distinguish her from the thousands of humans strolling by every day.  Who are we to the animals but an annoying and probably baffling group who wander on the outer edges of their lives? 

The next time I saw the Lady In Pink I was sitting at the Gorilla enclosure watching the baby gorilla harass his mother.  I was chuckling and feeling sorry for this creature who couldn’t even send her active child off to kindergarten so she could catch a break.  Next thing I know, there was that woman again.  She strode up next to me and opened her arms.  The mamma gorilla immediately got up and ran to stand in front of the Lady.  They conversed in sign language for a moment, then the Lady in Pink asked for a kiss.  The gorilla pressed her mouth to the glass, then bounded off to her offspring and her busy day.

That moment changed the entire experience for me.  Suddenly I realized that who we are matters to these animals.  Who I am.  Even here, among swarms of people, it is possible to stand out; to be important to someone.  I ran across the Lady in Pink several times in the course of the day.  Each time I saw her, she was interacting with the animals as if they were old friends.  Each time I saw the animals pick her out of the dense crowd and respond to her like she was an old friend. 

I doubt she wears pink every day, but to me she’ll always be the Lady in Pink.  A familiar face for the animals and an astonishing eye opening memory to me.