Maybe God Just Likes Sushi

For the past six months I've been tutoring at the Literacy Council on King St. down in Lancaster. I like doing it and my student, Macu, is great. We laugh a lot and tell stories; I'm sure I've learned as much as she has. In fact, I like everything about tutoring except the parking.



The parking has been a problem.



I try to parallel park there on King St. because if you go in the lot across from the Literacy Council it costs $4 and if you park on the street it's only $2. At first I was a little intimidated by the parallel parking, but really, all those cars that are in such a hurry can just wait. It doesn't take me that long and now that I'm back in practice, I'm in good form and pretty good at it. I even get a little zing of satisfaction from parking so well.



If you look up and down King St., there are all kinds of characters and types and colors of people. But you can tell that mostly they're poor and you get the sense that it's a pretty hard-scrabble life for many of them. I've never felt threatened there, but then again, I wouldn't want to be alone on King St. at 10 pm either.



The problem with the parking, though, is the meter system that's been recently installed. There's a central parking machine where you have to enter your parking spot number and then feed in money to pay for the amount of time you think you'll be there. In my case it's $2 for an hour and a half of parking.



The problem is that sometimes the damn machine takes your money and sometimes it doesn't. I usually have 2 dollar bills ready because I don't want to be standing there on King St., with my wallet out trying to fish out the right change. The issue is that, sometimes, the stupid machine will take the first dollar, but not the second one. You can either try to re-insert that second dollar, or, try to find another one. But if you're not fast enough, the f*&king machine will just start over. And you've lost the first dollar. Plus, now you have to find two more dollars.



Now, this machine does give you a receipt with a phone number to call for a refund. Yeah, right, you're going to go through all the trouble and punch in all those numbers on your phone for a dollar.



But this stupid machine taking my dollar.....it's happened a lot. I think I have a one dollar refund ticket in every pocket of every jacket and coat I own.



One Thursday recently, I was wrangling with the stinking machine on the other side of King St., in front of Jason's Clothing Store, across the street from the Literacy Council. I had my usual stack of books and my two dollars in hand. As has happened so many times before, the idiot machine took the first dollar and not the second, even after trying to quickly re-insert that second one several times. Why won't it take my money???!!!



I was so frustrated and so pissed that I slam down the books, I slam down my purse, I say really bad words and I'm almost stomping up and down when this guy behind me asks, "Are you having a hard time?"



I turn around and see this Hispanic-looking guy who's about 40 or 50. He has a little goatee and mustache, oiled black hair slicked back, and he's leaning against the window of Jason's. He's casually smoking a cigarette and looking a little amused.



I'm not amused.....not amused at all. At first a thought blips through my mind about whether I really want to talk to this guy. I don't have a clue who he is or what his intentions are. For all I know, he could have a gun or be a gang member, or he could just be a smart aleck getting his kicks watching me explode. I just don't know.



But I don't think he's any of those things and his question is actually quite sympathetic, so I say, "yeah, I'm having a hard time," and then tell him my tale of woe ending with "if it were the only time I've lost a dollar it would be one thing, but it's not, it's the 7th or 8th time."



This is when he looks at me and very gently says, "Honey, you just need to take a look around you."



Oh my God! Oh my God! He's so right! Every direction I look there are people who probably can't even afford a car. Or food. And think of their daily frustrations. Oh my God.



Light sort of flashes around my head and I tell him he's right, of course he's right. I thank him for reminding me.



As I cross the street, tears swimming in my eyes, that song from a few years ago by Joan Osborne starts playing in my head:



What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us?
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make his way home.



If God had a face
What would it look like?.......



For the next couple of days, I hold this thought and this experience in my mind. I can hardly tell anyone about it because it makes me so emotional and tears well up just thinking about it. I like it, too, though, because I feel like I've been given a major flash of insight.



This story could end right here, yes, it could tie up so neatly.....comfortable, middle-aged woman gains perspective on the human condition and feels extremely fortunate. Which is true.



But......



The next Tuesday when I go to King St., armed with my new-found insight, I park in the same parking spot right there in front of Jason's Clothing Store....spot number 14. I feel such calmness and equanimity. But then when I try to put my dollars into that crap-o machine, it does that same trick.....spits out my second dollar and I have to hunt for another dollar so my spot will have enough time paid for. But I'm never quick enough and so, of course, end up with another refund ticket.



Well, I realize my anger is really not so much about the money. It's really about that stupid machine and the frustration of dealing with it.



This new realization kind of tarnishes my whole "God" concept.



But as I'm huffing and puffing about it, my guy shows up again. I'm guessing he works there at Jason's, or maybe he's even Jason himself, and has been enjoying quite the entertainment watching people handle that stinking machine.



We have another conversation where he suggests that I save all my refund tickets, call them all in at once, collect my money and then go out for sushi.



This time I'm able to laugh and agree. Sushi would be a good way to use all that refund money. And then he says, "Heck, wait til you get enough of them, and then I'll go out for sushi with you." Oh yes!



Since then, I'm actually a little sad to say, I've figured out how to beat that system, that damn machine that wants to take all my money. I use a dollar and 4 quarters. First I put in the dollar and if the machine takes that, then I put in the quarters, which the machine always accepts.



Since I've figured this out, every time I've parked, this has worked out just fine. But just standing at that machine, the song always goes through my head again....."What if God was one of us?......" and I wonder if maybe it's just that God likes sushi.

Bellydancing!!!!!

EVERYONE was way into it at the HAFLA.....

Terry and Frances were in the center of things....whoa!

Amy was having a wowza of a time!

Deb and Chris, oh yeah, smiling big. Check out Frances in the back on the left.

Amy, Pat and Kathy.....oh gosh, we ALL had fun!

Carol.....blissed out, Joannie (Ellen's friend) and Chris

Pat and Terry.....yes, check out those Bellydance eyes.....






Terry.....she's got Bellydance eyes too! Nancy don't need no glasses! Check out her glasses stashed in her skirt.

Nancy dancing with Omar.....OMAR! Quoting Ellen...."I don't know how Master Tim let's her out!"

OK! Here's Nancy, completely into it. She had the look, she had the outfit, she had the moves! We could not believe that she'd never Bellydanced before. She says, "No". We all say, "No way!" Nancy was that good! She was adorable.

Ahhhhhh.....now we all have the equipment, the head scarves and the coin-jangly hip scarves....all that jangle, anyone can do it.....well, sort of, but who will notice about the moves when ya got the jangle.

What a BLAST! What. a. blast! Both the HAFLA .....with 100 women, dancing, eating, smiling, dancing, laughing, drumming. The private lesson with Terry's boss, Cindy was wonderful. Thanks Terry and Cindy.

The connection and happiness of these events lasts on and on.....

Assumptions

The first time I saw her walk by, the only thing I noticed about her was the bright red lipstick.



Steve and I were in the 30th St. Station in Philly waiting for the train going back to Lancaster. We were killing time, looking through magazines in the news stand.



She was only about 11 or 12 and very skinny as young girls that age can frequently be before they start to fill out. But her lips were the brilliant red of a young woman twice her age. The red stood out even brighter against the milk-chocolate brown of her skin. My assumption was that her mom and dad weren't paying enough attention, letting her color her lips such a startling and bright red.



Even though I wouldn't have let my own daughters use lipstick like that at her age, to have this reaction caught me by surprise. It seemed so judgmental and narrow. But there it was.



Her dad....I'm positive it was her dad....was following closely behind her, his hand on her shoulder. I only saw him from the back, that first time they passed by, not noticing his face as my attention was captured and focused only on hers.



The second time they walked by, though, I got an entirely different picture. They were walking towards us and this time I noticed her dad's face and could see that he was blind. She was walking slowly enough, and patiently enough, that he could follow easily while he held on to her collar. The two of them seemed so comfortable together, walking slowly and talking quietly as they moved acoss the store.



The last time I saw them, out in the main part of the station, the rest of the family was with them as well. This time, the dad was holding his wife's shoulder as she was leading him. But you'd never know that he was handicapped and that she was leading him unless you were looking closely. It was such an easy and natural connection. One of them had said something funny and the man was laughing....a big, wide, open-mouthed laugh. The woman, the mom, caramel-colored and beautiful, was laughing too, sometimes lightly touching his chest for emphasis. I don't know how you can tell these things, but just from the ease and softness of her touch on him, you could see how much she loved and respected him. It was a beautiful connection to see.



Just the two of them formed a wonderful picture, but to make the picture even more lovely and poignant, three little girls were following behind, the young lady with the bright lips leading the way for her two younger sisters. All of the girls were laughing and skip-hopping along....totally free and happy. There was such a carefree and easy way with which each of them moved. It was the most touching of family scenes even though all they were doing was moving from one place to another.



An interesting thing had happened though. My perspective had completely shifted and this time when I saw them I didn't even see the lipstick on the oldest daughter. All I saw, and felt, was the happiness radiating from this family, moving so easily through the train station.

Snowpeople Caper 2010!

They are SO wonderful! 221 Snowpeople covering the lawn of the Lititz Mutual Insurance Co. building at the Square......

Each with their own personality.....

Carol shows us all how to use the equipment....

Rosetta's ready!

Ellen was the Nose-job Specialists....

Sharon drills a pre-hole for a facial feature...

Maragaret was a "Head Ball" expert.....

Art is getting his equipment ready....

Frances with nieces Sara and Grace.....so good to have multi-generations! Open your eyes, Frances!

Frances with her eyes open.....drilling holes into the gritty snow.....

Kathy slid into place to kiss this guy....

Steve, oh man, did he ever hear a LOT about the Snowpeople....but only gave out encouragement.....

The Group....minus Rosetta, Art and Margaret....sorry we didn't do the group shot before you had to go....

The Snowpeople Caper 2010.....who would've known it'd be so hard to build Snowpeople!

I thought it'd snow and then we'd build, voila!, just like that.

Hohoho, the snow has to be right....not the dry and fluffy stuff we've had...and not too deep. The troops need to be ready. Finally, it just HAD to be done, no matter what.

The coolest things happened. People waved and honked. People stopped to ask about it. People took pictures. People came by and said they'd seen the mini-Snowpeople and wondered. The woman from Stauffers said the employees there had made up stories about the minis, they'd taken on a life of their own.

A woman I know said she'd seen the mini-salt-dough-prophets.....at the gym, at Stauffers, at Doughsie Dough, at the library (where, by the way, there is an auxilliary group of 20 Snowpeople waiting for the library employees when the library opens this morning).

I love these stories. I love hearing about people wondering. I love hearing how the Snowpeople made people smile. I love imagining all the times the little guys have made people experience a little prick of curiosity.

Something a little out of the ordinary, something fun to think about. A little gift to the community.

Good job, everyone, I can't wait til next year! Hahaha!