Pat and Larry here early. Sweeping. Decorating. Getting ready for Christmas.
I am angry at myself for yelling at Rachel. Just lost it. She’s claiming that RL attacked her with a chair after dancing lasciviously in front of her. I tell her that given how he struggled for twenty minutes with me to help get her SUV cart inside, it wasn’t very likely. She’s calling him that little evil man. Telling me how much better all the other congregations are. I’m like name one other congregation that would let you bring your arts into the sanctuary, just one…
why are you yelling at an old lady? She says.
I apologize, invite her in.
No, I’m afraid of that old man…So I close the door. Go inside. When I look out again, she’s gone. Lucky it's well over 60 degrees still.
Still shaking, I go up to see RL. Luba has brought a MAC and recording equipment. Introducing RL to the wonderful world of HULU.You can watch the original STARTREK (which RL worked on) right here. Luba and his wife must be those Chinese people Rachelle referred to. So I share the story of RL’s violent attack. And then settle back as RL plays Amanda’s Wait. And then a selection of RL's greatest hits produced by Luba. (availaible here: http://www.cdbaby.com/Artist/RLHaney)
Back to work. Catching up on blog. Getting ready for tomorrow.
Commotion outside. Police cars coming from all directions, marked, unmarked. Sirens. Driving down Amsterdam the wrong way. With Joe, trying to figure out what’s going on but can’t see past the phalanx of cars. Must have done something bad, says Joe.
George is back, harrumphing. Maybe somebody done that knockout thing, he says.
So George, I gotta ask you, is that for real? Or just something the Post made up that might, you know?
He harrumphs again. Listen. You grow up where I grow up, people always doin that. I’m a little kid. Someone come up,hit me upside the head. Black people always be getting hit upside the head, knock out. Black people get knock out. Nobody say nothing. Some old white guy get hit, whoa….some bad new ghetto game. Knockout. Shit. You tell me.
While the sirens are still blaring, the Midnight Run folks show up. Fresh hot pizza. I’m hungry enough to take a slice or two. I suggest they take some to mes ams de les arbols across the street. They’ve got gloves. And stocking caps. Socks. Fresh out of toiletries. I take a cap, for when it gets cold again. Feel no need to explain I am the pastor. Wish them Merry Christmas as they prepare to head back to the burbs.
It’s late. Back to work.