What I Didn't Say

Collecting imaginative business names is a favorite walkabout hobby: All Washed Up Laundry. Quartier's Hair Salon--for people who buy rings at Cartier's? Bark Place. Last Thursday I went to Cucina Gourmet. I assume Cucina means kitchen in Italian. The second part, Gourmet, is French. Did this indicate I would be eating French food in the kitchen? I decided to eat at the pretend outdoor tables. There were four copper-topped square tables with two chairs each flanking the doorway. I had plenty of time for settling in with Pellegrino (Italian) and baguette (French). I was enjoying the landscape. Several seniors were playing cards with one encourager wandering behind them checking out the hands. There was a group of robust OpEd afficianados and a man supposedly reading. The free music was previewed by a bass player. It reminded me of a mall in Montreal where a pianist filled an hour with nocturnes and mazurkas. A woman (I think) came to sit at the table closest to mine. She drank from a carton of orange juice she had not purchased at Cucina Gourmet. This is against my principles. If one is going to use an establishment's tables, one should buy the establishment's goods is my view. I noted she had angel pins, a Star of David necklace, and a Japanese tote. I thought of the many stories I could tell her on those topics and many she doubtless could give in return. A security guard passed routinely, same guard six times. Suddenly the woman directed her gaze my way and exclaimed, "Leave me alone! If you bother me again, I'll get the security guard!!" Whoa. Take a deep breath. I didn't say anything. I considered an apology for disturbing her peace or even an "I don speek Angleesh," but I was too floored and she was a lot bigger than I and the security guard was now on the other side of the court. I ate slowly instead. She waited a few minutes and restarted, "Stop following me! If you don't stop bothering me, I'll call the security guard." At that point I really felt sad. I wanted to tell her, "I draw angels; I lived in the Jewish Sector of Jerusalem as a child; my granddaughter is studying Japanese; we have a lot in common you and I." I'm disappointed at this lapse in reaching out. I should have risked asking, "You want half a muffin?" I should have tried. I should have bothered. On Sunday, I went to Riverside Church where I heard Jesse Jackson preach, the man who empowered millions with his, "I am SOMEBODY!" refrain. How I wish she could have been there, too. She could have recovered, been roused, healed from whatever damage made her so private and we could have been courageous SOMEBODIES together. She was a good lesson I'll remember always. In her honor, you won't catch me holding back. In Jesse's honor I will be SOMEBODY and I will bother.

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...may the blessings of second chances be yours...

What the Fortune Cookie Said

<---courtesy of Keep the A's in Oakland

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It was a hand-me-down fortune cookie. Yes, people there are folks in the world who don't read the fortunes or eat the cookies. Well, I'm not big on the cookie to tell the truth. It doesn't compare to Pepperidge Farm Sausalito. However, I never pass up a fortune. This fortune read: "You are going to take a vacation." Vacation?? As I understand it Noo Yawk is the Center of the Universe (a group on Facebook says so). I gave the idea some thought and decided I'd take my vacation right here in the Big Apple and have vacation food. What better vacation food is there than junk food? So I took the #6 to 33rd. On the way, I helped a couple of German tourists get on the right subway. Did that make me feel like a Noo Yawker or what?! Actually, they asked me one of the two questions I can answer, "Ver do vee catch the six?" I was afraid to find out what the ultimate destination was as I only know the Bronx, the Statue of Liberty, Daffy's, and two feet into Queens. On the subway, the populace was reading the tabloids (yuck). I looked over the shoulder of a young man reading the sports instead. He noticed and commented, "You don't like the Yankees, do you?" I apologized and told him, "I joined the Keep the A's in Oakland Faceboook group." Did he ever come alive wanting to know if the Jack London Square new stadium proposal would bring in enough revenue. I replied with my vast knowledge, "Duh. Imagine! Ferry crossings from San Francisco, Luxor water taxis. It could be in the top ten lists for visitors to the City Across the Way. The old Raiders' home stadium would look over in envy and pride. I'd definitely find a train to take me there." He exclaimed, "I would, too! The best game I've ever seen was the A's playing the Yankees. All that drumming!!!" He caught me mentally enquiring if he rooted for the A's. "You're too polite. Yeah, I rooted for the A's."

I am looking forward to my next hand-me-down cookie. The last one intended just for me read: "You are a very nice man."

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...may the blessings of inanimate objects directing your life with joy be yours...

Tales of a Valentine Kind

"What do you see when you look at me? "I see a girl. A pearl of a girl." My posting this week bridges the time including Valentine's Day. Two unusual love stories is what I give you. The first is of a scene in Central Park where I saw a grandmother help a boy about four climb onto the statue of Balto. Balto was the sled dog who "saved Nome" because, even though he was considered not a leader, managed to brave unearthly conditions to bring diphtheria antitoxin to Nome, Alaska. The details of the statue are so realistic that I'm sure the boy expected the dog to take off into the sky with rider on the back waving to his grandmother, "See you soon! Grammie!" I had the feeling the power and calm of the dog would become a part of the boy and in years to come would give him an unremembered source of optimism. This scene reminded me of another statue, this time with a girl climbing onto it. It was in the movie David and Lisa which I saw in 1962 so I may have some of the facts wrong but the love story is intact. David and Lisa are disturbed young people in a psychiatric ward or maybe it was a residential treatment center. David is terrified of being touched and obsessive over clocks. Lisa is a schizophrenic. When she is Lisa, she talks in rhymes. When she is Muriel, she is mute and writes on a chalk board. David befriends her by trying to speak to her in rhymes. The moment when she asks. "What do you see when you look at me?" and he replies, "I see a girl. A pearl of a girl" is so tender that I remember it clearly all these decades later. At one point, Lisa runs away and David knows where she must be. He finds her in the comfort of a statue they had seen (on a field trip?) curled up and waiting. In times of of shifting loyalties, betrayals, "the rug pulled out from under us," financial chaos, and grief, it is good to connect to stories of courage, to statues of lastingness, the happy endings and the enduring happily ever afters.

...may the blessings of stalwart stone companions be yours...

Early Days

Sweetie and Bobby

Photo Credit: Robert Janz, Sr.

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This is a classic photo in that it shows the tag-a-long nature of my childhood. Clearly in the middle of big shadows a little girl is skeptical of doing anything at all without her brother. This became so extreme that when I was put in a girl's convent school, I obstinately persisted in explaining to my parents that I needed to go to my brother's boys' school. Finally, I was allowed by the higher ups, who were tired of hearing my complaints, to be driven over to his school which ended later in the day to spend two hours in the chemistry lab (which was accessed by a secret staircase so I wouldn't be seen by boys) with a priest who strolled meditatively saying his prayers. First, though, he and I concocted a mixture of high falutin' elements in a glass beaker so that I could climb up into the dome and blow bubbles all over the city of Jerusalem. It was an exhilarating time and unforgettable. Characteristically, I gave my brother credit for this wonderful happenstance rather than my dad and Father Terence and Sister Marie Margaret who had all pulled strings. It was my brother who walked me to piano lessons, escorted me to movies, and showed me where the best rocks for my collection were hiding. At the age of ten, I was deserted (according to me) because my brother had the temerity to go away to school. However, all was not lost as I also went away to school four years later and, yep, it was to his school. Fortunately, by the time college came around I was spared having to attend the University of Chicago in bleak midwinters. I had learned to depend on my brother by remote control in a warmer setting. I seldom saw him after those days. Ten years would evaporate with postcards to remind me of our connectedness. I was very pleased last week to receive an announcement of his show in Ireland. Yes, I would very much like to tag-a-long to the place my dad called the most wonderful city in the most wonderful country but I am just as happy knowing all is going well. The shadows still loom large but we learned a lesson in childhood of optimism and perseverance. Wherever he is, there also am I. Antoinette & Bryan Murphy invite you to the Private View of SELECT The Peppercanister Gallery marks 10 exciting years with a very special show. SELECT brings together 15 gallery artists, each exhibiting a piece alongside 15 invited guest artists of their choice. Ranging between painting and sculpture, the exhibition will contain works of art by artists from Ireland, Britain, continental Europe and Canada. Nearly all of the exhibits will be for sale. Liam Belton | Bill Whelan | Breon O’Casey | Michael O’Donnell | Albert Irvin | Alan Davie | Deirdre McLoughlin | Rachel Parry | Neil Shawcross | Stuart Oxley | Graham Gingles | Andrew Stahl | Sonja Landweer | Hilary Orpen | Anne Donnelly | Camille Souter | Sarah Longley | Gina Ward | Joseph O’Connor | Eddie Mooney | Rosie McGurran | Gavin Lavelle | Ann Griffin-Bernstorff | Michael Quane | Robert Janz | Valentin Rothmaler | Jacinta Feeney | Basil Blackshaw | Ruth McHugh | Katharine West ...may the blessings of beautiful memories amidst the darkness be yours...

At Joey's

tees: from the mimsey collection

map: courtesy of the mta

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"Tiding?" She was a careworn middle aged woman with a New Delhi accent working in a store I had obviously been led to. My outing that day was to 34th Street to see if I could find some inexpensive souvenir tees to donate to Jan Hus Church's homeless outreach. I was standing in front of a window which clearly displayed, "t-shirts two for a dollar." I rubbed my eyes to make sure I had seen correctly. Even with my deplorable math skills I knew that translated to 50 cents apiece. Ten dollars would go a long way. I went inside and discovered more tables piled high with tees, one with a sign, "1 Dollar." These were decorated in a variety of New York themes. I said to myself, "Wouldn't it be nice for a homeless person to have a brand new t-shirt with a design of the city that was helping him or her get a foothold in society? I grabbed eight of the plain black fifty centers and four of the New York. On the way to the counter I saw a winter cap for a dollar and three pairs of cozy socks for two. Why not stretch the budget a teense while I was there? As I placed my purchases in front of the cashier I said, "This is wonderful! This can be part of my tithing." She stopped to ask what "tiding" was. I said,"It's what you give to God each month, the first part of anything you receive--money, time, gifts. God doesn't need it, of course, but it's a lesson in priorities. God first." She was intrigued by the idea so I told her the shirts would go to homeless outreach. I continued, "When I lived in Eureka, California where there was a large homeless population, I would buy from the St. Vincent de Paul Thrift Shop and take the clothes over to the Friends (Quakers) Thrift Store but those were used clothes. With these I can donate brand new ones!" She was caught up in my excitement and asked, "What God is this?" I replied, "The God of All Things Known and Unknown." "Ah," she said, satisfied. I hoped for eavesdroppers as I waved goodbye with a, "See you next month!"

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..may the blessings of radical generosity be yours...

Looking for the Good

In one of the Shire posts, I wrote about how much I admired the statue of Evangeline in Nova Scotia. A memory popped up after that post. It was a scene from the kindergarten class in Manhattan Beach where I was the volunteer Music Lady. The teacher would suddenly call out, "Statues!" and all of us in the room would stop in whatever pose we happened to be in. I loved this moment where is seemed the world had lurched to a stop and was captured in a symbolic, "This is who you are." Remember the ballerina in Central Park? The quick change from one "still" to another was wonderful. So you can imagine my delight when I came upon this statue on 34th Street of a painter painting a painting of a wall mural. If you examine closely you can see that the sculpture includes his painting.

Now--you will say it's taken me a long time (decades!) to discover a connection between statues and my philosophy of life but just yesterday, I noticed. Statues may have made me a "looking for the good" person. As a child I always had a little altar atop a chest of drawers. I'd put fresh flowers there each day and touch the faces of the "santos" I had been given. Santa Rita was my favorite. It never occurred to me she was gruesome with the spike embedded in her forehead, blood dripping. I would touch the smooth cool stone and marvel at her serene adoration. Clearly, she was a role model of sacrifice and gratitude. And how about those Nativity set sheep so glad to be near the Baby? From tender beginnings such as placing a bowl of hibiscus next to a figurine came my defining world view.

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...may the blessings of tiny /large revelations be yours...

Welcome Friends

photo credit: henry hobbs

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Greetings from The Treehouse in the Big Apple. This tree, of course, is not the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil that we have been warned against in myth and sacred text since history began. This is a welcoming green apple tree set by a river and a park on the Upper Green Side. The greeters at the Visitors' Center are shown above. Will, the keeper of the Treehouse; Robert, my esteemed brother; and Yours Truly, the Blobber. On my last outing in the Shire, I got an idea of who would be stopping by The City that Never Sleeps because of the encounters on the bus route. The first one was with I saw a young woman and her two children whom I had met during the summer and hadn't seen since. She told me I had inspired her to start volunteering in school and said shyly that she was learning to read. I said I would be leaving for New York on the next Tuesday so I was glad to know this. The older child said, "Maybe we'll see you at the Statue of Liberty!" Her mom laughed and explained, "You got her fired up to go there when you was telling us about Henry's adventure." Another encounter was because I had to wait for the photos at CVS so I decided to get a haircut at my usual place in Carrboro. There was someone new and much experienced working that day. We really hit it off. It turned out she was born on Staten Island and had moved out to Hollywood in her twenties. She proudly ran through the names of her customers: Johnny Carson, all the Fleetwood Macs, and several others I don't recall. I told her I had lived in Manhattan Beach and she said her husband had delivered the same newspaper as Erik. She said she was going to give me a "pretty haircut for a pretty lady." She had plenty of time to talk and at the end of our chatting she wanted a hug and said she was sure she would see me on the sidewalks of New York! Then, by chance, I got the New York bus driver and I said goodbye to him. He said, you guessed it, "I'll probably see you there some day!" It made me think I should do a blob about all the people who are coming to see us. I could call it the New and Improved Visitors' Center, which, as you see I have done!

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...may the blessings of kind companions on your journeys of discoveries be yours...