The second day of Christmas: Boxing Day. Feast of Stephen. Good King Wenceslas.

12/26

The house is empty except for Christopher. Jay gone for the holidays. Stephen home for the holidays. Martin has come up for a set of jobs for Christopher to do to keep him busy. I come to see Martin, hoping that there is word on a possible deal. I’m ready to do whatever’s needed.  But we’ll have to wait. Anxiety rises as midnight approaches. Nobody really expected Mayan apocalypse to land on 12/21. After all, the Mayan elders had come to Sanctuary NYC and told them it was not the end, just the beginning of a new, more enlightened, connected cycle. The solstice is passed. The days are already getting longer. But we need a solution by the end of the year.

RL wants me to meet him at his office. And Poet Tim as well. So I head to the Gate. The agenda is to get the forms in order so that we might get eligibility for Materials for the Arts, a warehouse exchange program in New York City that makes all kinds of material resources available for non-profit arts groups. Many of the theatre groups, for example, that have used West- Park, like Woodshed, found major portions of their sets and props at Material. Makes sense. And there are some volunteers that can help make it happen. 

Mandola Joe

Outside, the weather is frightful. Cold, wet snow falling, winds picking up. The scaffolding company sent us an email recommending that we batten down the hatches, hurricane style. I’m alone. Not going to happen. As the snow picks up in intensity, Mandola Joe walks in looking like a gnomic northern european icon of St.Nicholas just in from the arctic, beard filled with snow. 

It’s Boxing Day. Feast of Stephen. Good King Wenceslas. I admire that when RL calls Harvey and says the weather outside is frightful, she responds, but inside is so delightful. And he smiles. I admire. And maybe envy a bit. He needs to head out before it gets heavier. And weather aside, even traditionally stoic RL offers that it has  been an exceptionally cruel month. Word. But not without its redeeming moments for me. Purisima. Carolling on the steps. The impromptu Child’s Christmas...

Tim and RL head out into the winter.

I follow shortly.

At the church, I get a call from my old OWS security chief Rafael. Tells me to check out his youtube video. There he is on the deck of a sun drenched beach house overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Wearing a guayavera and sun glasses. New security gig.  This is good. 

Outside on the steps, George is bent over. I prod him until he wakes. You OK? 

He harrumphs. Why you ask?

Need to know’s why, OK?

Hmmmph. 

All too soon this snow will turn to freezing rain. 

In his master's steps he trod
Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed
Therefore, Christian men, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing 

from Good King Wenceslas