An odd occurrence

i was waiting for my turn at the save-on-foods deli counter when a fellow shopper struck up a conversation. "do you mind my asking: how do you tie your scarf so that it hangs like that?" i was startled and pleased. it's what i think of as the sydney look, though everybody does it now. i studied other scarf-wearers in australia, 2002, until i learned the loop-it-doubled-around-your head-and-poke-the-ends-through trick. i was pleased she'd asked and happy to demonstrate, there in front of the cold cuts. "oh!," she said, "you double it up." she pondered for a second. "i wonder if my scarf is long enough?" i said i thought it was. it was a very pretty scarf, red with flowers embroidered on it, and i asked whether she'd done the needlework herself. she laughed, sounding embarassed. "no, heavens no, it came that way. from india." i said it was lovely.

(the woman behind the counter asked if 296g was close enough to 300g. yes.)

my fellow customer pulled her scarf off and said she'd try it! i coached her through the motions, she worrying all the while that the scarf wouldn't be long enough, but of course it was. "bravo!," i said, "it looks perfect."

(i ordered a couple sticks of chorizo: no, not german sausage, the mexican one. bright red. yes. right. two please.)

my new friend seemed quite pleased with her look but confessed that she was a dunce where these matters were concerned. i said, "oh, i know what you mean! i bought a shirt recently that came with an online instructional video detailing all the ways you could wear it. the sales clerk talked me into trying it on, and the second i did, i realized that i really wanted to be the kind of person who could wear a shirt like that -- bold, whimsical, playful and so on -- but the second i got home i realized the shirt was smarter than me." "an instructional video!," she said. "i think it would be a long time before i bought a shirt that came with an instructional video." "i know," i agreed, "right?"

i picked up my sliced turkey, smiled, and turned away.

a few minutes later, she came after me.

"you," she said, and leaned in for emphasis, "you are a treasure. never forget that!" she slid something into my cart and scuttled away.

between the clamshell spinach and the snap peas was a hand-lettered red envelope saying "Just For You." inside, a card, generic enough, the kind you buy in packages of eight or ten. the picture is a hanging flower basket. inside she has written, "Your bright cheerful attitude is such a blessing to everyone around you. Jesus loves you with a never ending unconditional love." behind the card is a pamphlet called "Steps to Peace with God," and inside that, a ten-dollar bill.

of all these things, it's the ten bucks i find most discomfiting. the card is sweet and although i find the sentiment a bit creepy, i can see that it comes from a good place. it's pretty cool to walk around a grocery store handing out cards to strangers, and you can bet i filed that one away for future use. but ten dollars? ten christian dollars? i still think of ten bucks as a lot of money -- more than you'd give to a stranger. she stuck a post-it note to the bill saying, "relax and treat yourself to a special coffee break." does special coffee cost ten dollars? i guess so.... but do i look like i can't afford my own special coffee? do i look like i need the money? i don't think i need it. i'm bad with finances, no doubt, but honestly i make a good living. no, i definitely don't need ten dollars from this woman. in fact, i'm pretty sure i'm better off than she is: after all, didn't i learn how to tie my scarf six or seven years ago on a whole other continent? i wondered if i should go after her and say excuse me, sorry, that's really sweet and i see where you're coming from, but aren't there tons of other people that could really, really use ten dollars?

what am i going to do with it?

i'm lying a little here. the really discomfiting part, though for all the same reasons, is the line, "I'll be praying for you."

Easter

there's no parking on our street this morning, so packed is the road with easter sunday churchgoers.

i kind of understand the impulse, even though i've sworn off christianity for the sake of my mental wellbeing and dignity. of all church services of the year, easter sunday was the best, even if you did have to get up early. then again, everyone with kids was up early anyway. i used to lie in bed on easter morning preparing myself for the possibility that the easter bunny might not have come after all, just to intensify that thrill of lilac raffia and big easter rabbits that i fervently hoped were solid.

church felt as right as it ever did at the sunrise service. celebrating while the sun rose made the event thrillingly pagan -- not that we used that language -- and people tended to be in a good mood. even sour mrs donelon (RIP, killed in a horrific car accident just last fall) said hello to the teenagers. the campbells, tanned and lined, would be back from wintering in arizona, talking flamboyantly and, we felt, a bit pridefully about the snowbird life. roslyn hanchard, the prettiest girl at church, would have a new hat and kim mabbott, the doctor's daughter, would be wearing a whole new outfit. the doctor's entire family would come to braemar on easter sunday, looking very well dressed and just a bit uncomfortable. did they know, then, that jim would end his career in disgrace? for the most part we put the knives away on easter sunday, welcoming even the pastor's hippie daughter who had a child out of wedlock (we did use that phrase, "out of wedlock") and, worse, was whispered to be "a vegetarian!" in a good year the weather would be warm enough that we'd be able to wear white sandals instead of brown boots, our reinforced-toe nylons poking through.

easter music was always the best. not even braemar baptist's lugubrious congregation could turn "and can it be / that i should gain" into a dirge (though i've just done a quick internet search to remind myself of the lyrics, and i see that some can). in the early 1980s my friend sylvia and i would play the descant on our flutes, standing as close as possible to the musically talented carmichael family who would sing soprano, alto, tenor and bass. dimpled betty-mae macdonald, whose daughter wore enviable black-and-white saddle shoes that, she told us confidently, were Orthopedic, was another singer, with a sweet pure voice that ascended to the heavens.

after the service there would be food -- refreshments, they were called. the plain ladies, the widows and those who couldn't sing would spend the service in the church kitchen plating dainties and slices contributed by the hospitality committee, so that when we all trooped back to the church gym after the service we could hold the sugar crash at bay for another few hours.

the very best part about easter sunday? you were set free by 10:00 am.