Matchmaker...

STRANGE DAY. THERE I WAS, BUBBLING WITH THE MILK OF HUMAN KINDNESS. Must have had a pinch of something else in there too. It was Thanksgiving morning, and I arrived at the church on time to help get things ship-shape. Had nothing on my mind but pushing up my sleeves and getting to work! Mixed aromas wafting my way..turkey, stuffing, I'd know that smell anywhere.
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Stepped over the threshold into the holiday decorated gym...gallant elderly fellow at the doorway reaches out to greet me. Help me into the room? Is he the maitre'd? When did that start? Very noticeable. Maybe 6'5''. Shoulder length , good quality grey hair, handsome at any age. Familiar face..old rock star? Blue work shirt, faded jeans..Woodstock, rich hippie? Who??
Turn and greet instant pal, Lucy, from yesterday and the yam table, slice and dice. Throws her arms around me , air kisses.."My, you look sexy today!" I do a double take. Black leather sexy?
When did that start? Mr. Foxy Loxy gives me the once over, I catch it because I looked back..never look back!!
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Someone calls out to me, "Oh, don't hang that jacket up..someone's going to take it, for sure. Just tuck it under the supply table..it'll be safe there". As I'm removing my jacket and disguising it as a basketball, Lucy comes dashing over, grabs my hand and tells me that Foxy Loxy is looking for a relationship! And I quickly realize that I'm it. Was it the hunger in my eyes that gave me away? I thought that was for Pumpkin Pie! Clearly I showed longing and yearning for the geriatric idol at the door. As I protested, NO NO, I was being pulled in the direction of my future boyfriend. I told Lucy,"Not now". Not sure what I meant..I'm not available? I'm in love with someone? I'm married..well, not, but how does she know anything about me except how I cut yams? Matchmaker to the rescue. I will in the future have to turn off the blinking sign on my forehead.."NEEDY". Walked away from Lucy as she called out,"Why not"?
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Avoided that encounter, crawled under the table, tucked my jacket as far away from stealth as I could. Put a white plastic apron on, neutralizing my sexy outfit, placed my name tag on, and found my place in the scheme of things. I became the mixed veggie lady, standing next to the turkey lady, who for some reason took it upon herself to shred the huge trayful of turkey into minceable pieces. So that there will be enough to go around. Of course there will be enough, there's a dozen more in the kitchen. But she told me that she's a control freak, and I really didn't need a Thanksgiving confrontation. So I dished out veggies and passed the plate on to yams. Servers kept rolling their eyes at turkey lady's little bits. And coming back for more.
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Kicked my shoes off. Some cute servers made eye contact. No rush toward a relationship. Folks at my post were members of the church, Episcopal, I said I hadn't been to services in a while. They said I must come back. I smiled charmingly. We spoke of ethnic extraction, they were all English/Scottish..I said I was of Russian ancestry..Amazement all around, you'd think I was Anastasia. And did I go to the gorgeous Orthodox church down the street? No. Funny how people think they have you pegged.
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One more sort of unusual sidelight. Gilbert, the main chef, always on the job, stopped by to chit-chat for a moment. Reassured Control Freak that she could actually give a slice of turkey instead of shreds. And told us that all of our turkeys had been roasted at Riker's Island. That the prisoners there, (Riker's Island is a prison in NY harbor) had done the work, sliced the birds, and packed them up to be shipped to a church on the Upper East Side.
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There's nothing like being in a room full of strangers, drawn together in celebration. What I like best is knowing, at heart, that we're really just people. And I can hardly wait to do the MEAL all over again for Christmas. Maybe I'll even take another look in Foxy Loxy's direction. Or whoever Lucy has picked out for me by then.

CHOCLAT SIN..#6

THE HORN OF PLENTY/ THANKSGIVING, 2009
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God, thank you for my life on this earth...
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There must be somewhere to go on Thanksgiving. For everyone. For the last few years I choose to be in the midst of a particular crowd. I go where the homeless gather, where the elderly and poor can sit down at a table, spread with a white cloth, flowers at the center, candles flickering in the breeze as we rush by with platters of turkey, heaps of stuffin', cranberries doing the shimmy shake. And baked sweet potatoes, mashed and smashed whites. Don't spill the gravy, and seconds already? Coming up. And how about a plateful to take with you, for a tasty snack later on.
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I think I spot a carrot that I peeled and sliced. Yes I can tell for sure, its my special angle. I somehow have to pop a bit of turkey that I catch, before it floats off the plate I'm rushing to place in front of that flirtatious old fellow, the one who told me last year that he was an extra at the Metropolitan Opera. Hey there, we've survived another year...yeah, yeah, I bet you say that to all the girls. And there are the twins, always in suits and ties, 11 years old by now, I'll say hello, but their grandfather always just nods. And that pretty woman, still a hippie.
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Five hundred come, every year, for several seatings at the two huge gyms at this landmark church, The Church of the Heavenly Rest, one of many who allow us to be generous to the ever increasing numbers of those in need. I belong there in a very good way.
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And not to forget, at the end of it all, I can put my feet up, and please, pass the truffles this way!
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Happy Thanksgiving!!
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Milo and St.Francis..

EACH OCTOBER, INCLUDING THIS YEAR ON OCT. 4, 2009, thousands of people flock to the Episcopal Cathedral of St. John the Divine, in NYC, with a huge array of animals. Pets of all descriptions, birds, rabbits, lizards, cats, dogs, this year even a camel, parade through the Church to be blessed during a celebration of St. Francis of Assisi. Four thousand lined up to enter this spectacle, which has become the largest animal blessing in the world.

Wanting to make things easier for myself, I decided to take advantage of this Episcopal tradition at the Church of the Heavenly Rest, which is so much more convenient to me, being across from the park, just a couple of blocks away from where I live. So I thought how special it would be to pack Milo into his snug carrier, and tote him off for some blessings. I sort of forgot that I would have to battle all nine of his lives to convince him that being zipped up in a claustrophobic chamber was a good idea.

There are docile pets who sweetly cuddle in the arms of loved ones. Under the best of conditions Milo isn't one of them. Not only did this scaredy cat not make it to the church on time, he reminded me what having claws is all about! What was I thinking? Maybe camels can make it to church, but an independent cat? Let it be known that St. Francis, gentle soul and hovering spirit, when summoned by a trembling supplicant (me, not Milo), laid calming hands on both of us. I am grateful to be rid of unreasonable desires, and Milo, happy enough to cough up a hair ball in peace.

Senlis

xxxxxxxxCHURCH of NOTRE-DAME, SENLIS, FRANCE
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I was reading an article in the paper about a French Cinema Series coming to Lincoln Center. One of the featured films, already acclaimed, was Seraphine de Senlis, about an early 20th Century artist. But "Senlis" started playing over and over in my head, I was remembering...what?....
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I jumped over the hedge of memory.
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We were strolling from the Cathedral, Pierre and I on the sidewalk, Gerard somehow straggling far behind, then running to catch up. "What's the matter with you two today"? Too hot to answer. "Have we fallen into a black hole or what"?
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My last day in Paris, we decided to show me the 11th Century Church of Notre Dame at Senlis, not too far a drive from Paris. I always stayed with Pierre and Gerry, and when they came to New York, they stayed with me. We would walk along Park Avenue and try to peek into posh windows, reaffirm that one day we would buy a place like that together.
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Gerry was an American from Boston. It was I who convinced him to give up his great career in New York, go to Paris, find Pierre, and for God's sake, be happy for a change. We met on a job. He was the greatest makeup artist in the world, and I was a makeup artist. It was love at first sight for the two of us. Figure that one out. We were just these utterly compatible strands of DNA that laughed all the time. I asked for no more.
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I didn't know why we were all so picky in Senlis. I, as usual, fell into a deja vu trance upon entering the Church. Place me in an ancient church, or let me stroll a Gothic
Cloister, and I'm sunk in the thankless task of trying to retrieve my past. But only
in France. You can probably figure out what I believe.
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The stone floor in the church had deep indentations, smoothed through the
centuries by a parade of souls praying for salvation from wars, famines, Kings, and plagues. I look back at the moments spent within, gazing upwards, past the illuminated clarity of the windows. I'm sure I asked a few questions of the cosmic air about my concerns, never letting a Holy opportunity pass me by.
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How do you address the Plague? Do you cower, do you pray, do you deny? I do. I was leaving France, and I had seen the leering face of the Green Man lurking at my friends doorstep. So this was going to be the last time I saw Gerry? I didn't know that in Senlis. I knew something though. Pierre could be glum. He was French. Did Gerry know? He was always in a dream anyway, but a creative, beautiful one. His spirit had begun to hide. That day in Senlis had a prediction in it of days ending. Black hole indeed.
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It wasn't immediate, of course. Another year. Blindness, mindlessness. A phone call from Pierre. Gone...but, Lyn, he just looks so beautiful, he looks so much like himself.
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