Leftist Christian

In the second half of a slow day, an elderly woman came into my office with a series of letters that she wanted professionally prepared. This was the easiest possible type of job--not creating anything but merely laying it out to the page well. The woman dragged it out longer than necessary, though, so that she stayed all the way until closing time. She then asked me to accompany her to dinner. I couldn't figure a way to get out of it and not feel like a jerk. She insisted that there was a great steak place down the block. I was aware of no such place and was in fact fairly sure it didn't exist. I told her Wishbone was a really good restaurant (Southern cooking). She reluctantly agreed and complained about her meat throughout the meal. She confided that she had some psychic abilities and told me a few things she could see about me: 1) I would never really be happy until I became my own boss (I have always viewed myself as a good soldier, content to let someone else run ...

At some point during my formative years, I posited that being a clerk at a record store would be the best possible job. I never had luck securing such a position (now, record stores hardly exist), but I did procure an interview at a coffee shop. This was before Starbucks entirely monopolized this market. I applied and interviewed at a location just a block or two from my school (this was a small local chain). The manager, Sue, introduced herself. She had cuffed jeans, boots, and short hair, with a Clash pin on her bag. Through some small talk, I learned that she was in a band that was influenced by Gang of Four. She left me with a handout concerning how coffee is grown and prepared and told me to return for a quiz within a week. Upon being hired, I was told that I would also have to work at three other locations regularly. This was okay; I can’t say no to much anyway. All of my co-workers were of course very hip. Two of whom were also in Sue’s band, one with short pink hair (...

My grandmother just died. She was ninety-five years old, so that's about as long as any of us could hope to last. I had for some time known of the sad circumstances of her life--all four of her children were taken from her, her marriage subsequently fell apart, and she regressed to an earlier mental state for the rest of her life. She did later reunite with all of her children (minus one, who died as a child). I learned that she taught a Sunday school class and told her students, "I've got a daughter your age," and, "I've got a son your age," not knowing anything about where they might be. I also learned that she could play piano by ear. To my knowledge, that is my only relative from whom my family's musical abilities might have come, then. I was asked to be a pall bearer for her, a duty I performed with honor (that was my first time doing so). Two years ago, very nearly to the day, another death (my father's childhood friend) perhaps init...