Saturday, December 29, 2012

The fourth day of Christmas: Containing two fur coats and three dogs

Looks like Project Reachout has come through. The steps are empty. 
Elle is standing at the bus stop talking to a friend. She’s wearing a fur coat and hat. I greet her. And she says, Bonne annee, that’s French for Happy New Year. 
Je sais, et vous aussi, I respond. As her friend leaves, I tell her she’s looking good, furs and all.
Ah, thank you, she says. My $25 mink coat. You know, looking good is not expensive. People don’t know. Putting yourself together just takes time. I’ve been wanting to teach classes on how to do it. Especially seniors. And cancer patients.  
I tell her sounds like a good idea. 
I used to be a designer, you know.
Yes, I remember. Still shows.
We turn the corner, heading towards her home.  With my COPD, the’s almost too much. But I have  to get out and keep going, well, so I can keep going.
And looking good is part of feeling good, I say. And she nods. She asks how it’s going. And I tell her. She nods again, wishes us well. And I say, Happy New year, Elle, may it be a good one
Inside a couple has come to plan their wedding. Both nearing 40. One Dutch and raised Presbyterian, the other Catholic. Old enough to know hat they’re doing. Including their dogs in the wedding ceremony. Looks like a fit.
I’m trying to get out and visit my friend Jack when Anna comes in with puppy.  She sits, we talk. As always filled with good ideas, information and care for the church. Deeper than anything  else, the strength of her heart is always there.
The mumbling man comes in, telling me he has  to ask for one more time and that will be it. Subway fare. Metro card.  I open my wallet, pull out my pockets to show him I’ve got none. I tell them I’ve got to go. And I say to him that I saw him in a fur coat the other day. He shrugs his big shoulders, Got to stay warm....
RL and Poet Tim are in for a day’s work. RL managed to recycle some wood from the Quebecois Christmas tree guys after they left. One step closer to shelves to display guitars. And the kitchen’s tea pot will son be put to use. 
When I get back from visiting Jack, Dan comes by to pick me up. We’e considering a movie. He stops in to see the dancers rehearsing, say Hi to Martin. Look at the studio he helped build last summer. 
I notice that Teddy’s candle has gone out. Again. Someone unsatisfied tried to extend its life by placing smaller candles inside, but they only drowned the wick. There’s a parable in there somewhere.  So I scrape it out, light it again. It needs to burn out to the end. I’m superstitious about these things. The candles are supposed to burn a soul’s journey long. Prematurely blow out the candle, you interrupt the journey. 
I ask Dan to help me lock up the door.  Notice something there. The Mexican man is putting his things down in front of the door. Hey, mi hermano, por favor. No se ponga sus cosas en frente este puerta. Usamos esta puerta todo el tiempo. 
Dan locks the door, asks me what I said. Get your stuff out from in front of the door, I tell him. Time to lock up and go....

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