A Sunday Afternoon

The weather report indicated a threat of rain both here and at the beach. In fact, the beach report said rain likely from 10 to 4 or so; clouds or rains would ruin a day trip there. I settled on a trip to a nearby Unitarian congregation in the late morning. On the way in, feeling late, a man introduced himself as Ken and I exchanged greetings hurriedly. Not until I was on my way in did I realize he was the minister. If he wasn’t late, well, then surely I shouldn’t feel that way either! The church inhabits a 1920’s era building with copious period stained glass in vivid blues and reds with lots of structural wood beams and paneling. A greeter bid me good morning and offered a program with many flyers advertising a variety of church activities. While waiting I learned of a craft show, the legendary pumpkin carving contest and other activities.

I took a seat in the back third of the church with a hymnal handy. The service started with a gentleman reading several announcements from a lectern at the altar. Following him, a gentle lady, Linda, called all to order and asked everyone to greet each other and offer peace. En masse, congregants stood and a cacophony of greetings, hugs and chatter permeated the facility, creating quite a lively image. After several minutes, Linda, who’d joined the crowd, hurried back to the lectern and tried, at first unsuccessfully, to bring order back to the congregation. Her voice becoming more stern, folks eventually, almost with a certain reluctance, made their way back to their respective pews and gave their attention to the front in silence.

Once the order of the service was underway, a good number of congregants, running late, came tiptoeing into the back and a group of three (that were together) sat to my right. When it came time to sing hymns, the fellow next to me at first fumbled with finding the number in his book. I held mine in his direction and he smiled and looked on with mine. By the third hymn, he didn’t bother trying to find it in his, but just joined me by looking on with mine.

After the service, I stayed seated for a while and was approached by Jack. He’d asked me if I was a visitor and then we chatted about the church building, its age and the over 150 year congregation. He said that Unitarians, descended from the early congregational churches that were chiefly Christian, had evolved to welcome people of all levels of belief from atheists and agnostics, Jews, Christians and Buddhists like himself. He found the combination created an interesting dynamic that sometimes put groups of congregants at odds with one another at times, yet manage to hold together because of a set of core beliefs.

Once Jack bid his farewell and extended an invitation to have coffee in the garden behind the church, I lingered for a time in the lobby looking at a variety of fliers and notices and then made my way to the parking lot, passing through the coffee area outside and offering greetings to several people along the way. Several cars in the parking lot sported anti-war bumper stickers and other liberal-leaning sayings. A definitely more comfortable environment than I’d lived in for so many years.

Returning to the apartment, I struggled with the best way to spend the afternoon. No sight of rain or clouds and temperatures in the eighties. After some reading and web browsing, I decided to find an ice cream parlor in Chestnut Hill that I’d passed in the car in my wanderings and been tempted by in the past.

Just into Chestnut Hill on Germantown Road, the police had erected blockades and suddenly traffic began to crawl. Cars were parked tightly on both sides of the street and also on the side streets we were forced to turn onto. I turned left and took a parking space that another car had just vacated and walked down to Germantown Road to see that an Arts Festival was underway.

In close quarters with others, I strolled past a band with a woman guitarist and vocalist filling the air with music; an elderly gentleman dancing in front of the musicians, people eating from various food stands, vendors with artsy wares, a table selling pretzels and water benefiting a local school, a medical table dispensing flu shots. I’d wanted one of those and with no money on me walked onward in search of my bank. Found the bank several blocks up. No ATM. I walked to the back passing a fried dough smell. People with funnels cakes were scurrying past. The ATM was in the back and, after inquiring on account balances (two households and a high monthly credit card bill are draining the available cash) I took out some cash and made my way back down the street. Moving slowly with the crowd, I passed Mario’s famous sausage and peppers, onions and mushroom sandwich sign. Have to get one of those later.

Eventually I made it to the flu shot table. I filled out the disclosure form, asked the cost (twenty-five dollars) and gave $40 to the woman behind the table. “Bet you didn’t know you were comin’ here for this today,“ she said. “Change,” she called out to the two women standing behind her, while the smiling man in nursing attire to my left asked me to sit down if I was ready. The woman asked me which arm and I felt that my left would be a good choice today.

“Roll up your sleeve. You might need to hold it up. You’ll feel one quick prick and before you know it, it’ll all be over.” A quick pinch, then success! “Good job,” I said.

Standing, without change yet, I walked back to the woman behind the table. “We’re working on it.” Turning away from me, she said, “we really to straighten that out. We have the change in there, you just haven’t been taking care of it right.” Frantically helping out her colleagues and then going through each other’s pockets and wallets, they came up with change.

Counting. A dollar short. More searching. Got it!

I was on my way down the street in search of the ice cream parlor. Toward the end of the blocked-off street was the parlor. A line. The woman in front of me, children in tow, says to them, “have we had any real food to eat yet today? What a long line!” They turned around and left. After waiting for a while....should it be Moose Tracks? Strawberry? Sundaes? The Fluffernutter was tempting given the marshmallow emphasis. No, too expensive. A scoop, more reasonable. “May I help you?” A young fellow was looking at me, waiting. “Butterscotch Vanilla,” I said. “A scoop.“

“A cup,“ he asked. I nodded. Grabbing a cup behind him, he hurried off. Returning in a moment, cup in hand, he said, “three fifteen.” I passed three to him and started digging in my pockets. Quarters. Ah, a dime. Seems like it’s taking a long time...ah, a nickel too. I handed them to him. He smiled, looked me over. Smiled again, with a lingering glance. I grabbed a few napkins from the holder on the counter, said thanks and stepped outside, cup and spoon in hand.

I found a piece of wall to lean on near a bench with several older ladies sitting with cones. A man with yarmulke looks inside, turns around and says to his very pregnant wife, “no tables inside.” A friend of theirs looks at me and says, “we’re trying to find a place to sit.” I motioned to the bench near me. They looked and then started walking. “Would you be okay sitting on the grass,” I heard as they walked down the street.

Finishing my generous scoop, the woman with children in tow stepped out of the bakery next door and all had some confection. One had an eclair, another a cake, and, while nibbling, were looking with wonder at the orange and black, pumpkin-shaped and Halloween-themed cakes in the window.

With a pre-meal dessert finished, I decided I’d eat here today and went in search of the table with pretzels and water. Kept walking....it didn’t seem like it was this far, but must’ve been! Finally. “Pretzels! Did you want to have a pretzel?”
I nodded. “Just take which ever one you want. It’s a dollar.” I handed him four quarters. There were two to a bag. Why not, I’ll take two. I checked the sign and it said two for a dollar. Save one for later or tomorrow. Eating one, I made my way up the street in search of the famous sausage sandwich.

A Subaru dealer with cars on the side of the street distracted me. “It’s getting near to closing time for this and the people keep coming,“ says one of the salesmen to his colleague. I wandered to the Outback, an outdoorsy wagon. Door was unlocked so I sat inside. Eyeglass holder, glove box, all panels with cubbies and doors gently open with a touch and close without a sound. Nice interior, moon roof even.
I stepped out and looked at the sticker. $25,995. Not too bad, I suppose. Gas mileage of 20 and 27. Now that could or should be higher. I walked around and opened the back hatch. There was a heavy duty rubberized floor mat covering the entire back that was removable. Nice touch. The bicycle would even fit back here, especially with the seat down. The hatch shuts gently and quietly. I picked up some Outback literature from a nearby table.

Continuing on my way, I found the sandwich booth and asked for the sausage, peppers, onions and mushroom sandwich. The woman behind the table turned to her right and asked for one from the baseball capped helper. She opened an Italian roll, put it in a plastic bowl, poured a healthy helping of the sausage concoction inside and handed it to me. “Three dollars,” as I handed it over. Grabbing napkins I went in search of a place to sit. Across the street was a raised brick walkway in front of a store where I settled down. Tried to lift the sandwich and couldn’t do it. Next to me sat a father and his daughter with the same thing, she struggling to bite the sandwich with messy success. He shouts across the street, presumably to his wife, “get a fork.” Back to the table in search of a fork.

Fork in hand and returning to my spot, I proceeded to eat the famous sausage sandwich. A couple strolling down the street with two small children stop just to my right while the woman makes a phone call. The children sit down next to me, playing with leaves. One lands on my shoe. The man says, “Ethan, don’t be bothering other people with stuff like that. Good boy.”

The father looked away and I handed Ethan the leaf. He pulled his arm and shoulder away from my direction....he sure didn’t want it from me!

I got up in search of a waste basket and spotted one behind the sausage sandwich booth. Pitching the bowl and fork, I proceeded down the street. Noticed the gentleman and his wife with little Ethan on the other side of the street, keeping the same pace with me down the left side of the street. Looking at the arts and crafts booths on my right, I made my way back. I turned at the band for the side street with my car’s resting place. The elderly gentleman was still dancing in front of the musicians. Looked at my watch and it was two hours since I’d last passed him.

Time

“It’s time to turn in,” E said . “Alright, I’m on my way,” said A, her spouse. “Good night, David, see you tomorrow. It’s so good to have you here,” she said as she gave me a good strong hug. She shuffled off to the master bedroom, adjacent to the living room, yawning as she went.

“So, how have you been,” E asked when we were alone, sitting on the couch opposite the one where I was perched.

“The job’s fine,” I responded, “not difficult; nothing that I can’t handle at this stage of my life.”

I talked about being closer to family and some friends that I grew up with. I told her that it was good that I’ve been able to stop by my father’s resting place and reflect; something I hadn’t been able to do in the past because I was so far away.

“The one thing that I know, is that I’ll never get over it, even after all these years. I get so emotional when I go there, as though I’m back there on the day of the funeral. Then I look at the date, his name and realize how long ago it was.”

“Why do you feel that way,” she asked. “I’ve been in therapy for years, maybe I can help you with it.”

“That‘s true,” I said, smiling. “But your relationship with your father was more complicated than mine was.”

“It was, that‘s part of why I was in therapy for so many years,” she replied, “but yours wasn‘t.”

“I don’t know, I suppose, because I never had a chance to say goodbye to him. That's the one thing I got to do with N's mother that I couldn't do with my father.”

“Well, you couldn’t, could you?”

“I should have known, should’ve known that he was near the end and made a point of getting my butt up there to see him one last time.”

“But you did get up there when you knew, right? I see this is difficult, let me come over and sit next to you. I can see you’re hurting , and I don’t want you to feel that way,” she said gently, as she joined me on the couch and took my hand.

“I still should have known, should have called more when he wasn’t well to know how he was doing so that I could be there.”

“You did what you could at the time. He wouldn’t want you to feel this way, would he?”

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Well, then you shouldn’t feel that way.”

“It doesn’t make it go away, make me feel...”

“I realize that. Have you thought about writing down your feelings? I did that with my father after he was gone and it helped me out. Will you do that? Promise me that you’ll do that?”

“I know you’re right, it doesn't make it easy, though. But I’ll work on it.”

“No, really, you need to write it down. Promise me, please? I don’t want you to hurt forever over it.”

“I’ll do that, might take me awhile because it is hard, but I’ll try,” as I fought back tears once again.

We sat in silence for awhile, side by side. Me, in comfort, lots of emotion near the surface (trying to control, of course), a kind, caring friend holding my hand. After a short while, she spoke up.

“It’s getting late, let’s get off to sleep.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” I sighed.

I moved toward the stairs to go to the guest room, while she walked toward her room, looking back at me with a concerned smile.

“Good night. See you in the morning.”

Westport

I stepped outside. The weather was breezy and cool, unusual for an August morning. The sun on the front porch and protection of the one wall stilled the air in that spot and made it feel warmer. I sat down on the front step and spotted one of the hens in the large shrub to my left. She proceeded to stroll toward me, clucking as she moved. She paced in front, then hopped up on the stairs, then one up behind me, circling around. Her curiosity growing, she joined me on the same step, then jumped onto my lap. She adjusted her bottom to get comfortable and then settled in for a rest. Of course I couldn't resist petting my new friend and she was content to take a break for awhile with me. For about 15 minutes the two of us sat there, she looking up and clucking from time to time, me petting her feathers. Then without warning, she jumped down and continued on her way, foraging through the grass.

Belmar

So Belmar it was! Arrived there about 10, bought a $7 daily beach badge at Fifth Avenue and found a place in the sand between the Third and Second Avenue beaches, settling in to relaxing with Business Week and the NY Times. The day was a bit overcast, so it was not crowded. Enough souls for people-watching, of course, but only mildly populated. About noon I got the courage to try the water (cold!) and was battered about by waves. Getting hungry, I found a restaurant nearby and had a BLT.

After lunch, I wasn't quite ready to leave, so I made my way back to my piece of beach and relaxed for another hour or so, along with another splashing time in the surf. Two o'clock and it was time to head out and back to the apartment.

The cat was happy to see someone home--she's even assisted in writing here this afternoon.

Busy Saturday

Yesterday was a busy day. Cleaned the apartment....newspapers and magazines were everywhere and had to be corralled. I've only been here four weeks, yet the dust was covering most surfaces quite evenly. And the table (kitchen type, the only one I have) was hiding. After much throwing away, some dusting and liberal use of a vacuum, all looks well tended.

The cat was happy because someone was home with her virtually all day. I even was able to keep her away from the vacuum.; an appliance she detests. I tried to read the newspaper; make that papers (three of them!) but she felt it important to sit on the one that I was reading. I even made a pile adjacent available for her to recline on, but that was not good enough. It was the one I was reading or nothing!

I'm thinking of taking a ride to the beach this morning, come back in the early afternoon. We'll see.

Good morning

Yes, I'm the other half to gay married with cat. The cat is currently residing with me, or rather, I'm residing with the cat. She lies in wait for the alarm to go off at 5 and jumps onto the bed, purring the moment it happens.

Started the morning at the gym and had a good swim. Seemed easy this morning, and, amazingly, was faster than usual. Don't ask why...the last two days have been an eating frenzy of tortilla chips and salsa, ice cream, and...oh, yes, pizza last night.

Unusually cool weather in these parts, although we're being threatened with extreme heat the next several days.