Monday, April 11, 2011

Twenty-ninth day of lent: Get a job, man

Warm. Warm. And bright sun. Truly spring. Best day so far. Sweeping while I wait for Tom to deal with sidewalk issues. A voice calls my name over my shoulder. It’s our deacon Pat with a baby in a stroller with a bottle. It’s her new childcare job. We pause and talk about last Sunday. She wants to help clean up when she can. Maybe we can even arrange for keys. 
So it seems Tom will not be coming, today. So I wrap things up and head home. Walking up the street I hear a voice call after me, “Hey. That’s a Pirate hat. That’s Roberto’s team. Roberto Clemente. The greatest. He’s my countryman. Puertoriqueno, boriqueno.” I turn around and say, “the greatest,” and continue to walk up Amsterdam. 
Soon I hear, directed at me, “hey, you spanish, right?” And I know I’ve encountered this guy before on this block. I keep walking. And then, “get a job, man.”

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