EJA and I havent hung out since mother's day and his departure a few weeks later.
this however is a special occasion -- a Christmas eve family gathering in Encanto. se me encanta.
many of the family and friends are here. some names escape me now, but the smiling loving faces are truly a comfort at a time just when i was fearing spending parts of this holiday by myself.
a new face in attendance here also distracts me from time to time. R is a friend of EJA's cousin AR -- this young man, acting restrained in this setting undoubtedly, has most recently been seen hurling the pigskin on ESPN. i give uncle a maduro from Spanish Honduras, i give auntie and mom and gramma a hug. AR & I talk. 3 or 4 people are busy snapping photos. christmas favorites play in the background. charlie is hiding under the couch or befriending a food-bearing guest. pine needle aroma fills the air.
EJA & I chat.
-- "have you heard anything more about GW?"
-- "well DW says that he doesnt have the house, or the car, or the job anymore, and you're one of a handful of people who are privileged to know this"
the homemade chicken noodle soup with sundried tomatoes is the bomb! everything is tasty, wine and eggnog with E&J are flowing. im starving. i've been anorexic the last few days.
though i insisted on no gift exchange, EJA gives me a 750ml Beringer sauvignon blanc 2003. he also presents a framed 4x6 black&white photo of yours truly from 2004. (a bittersweet moment. just 30 days ago i gave BLH exactly the same thing -- the photo subject was the same, only the photos themselves were different.)
goodbyes are said. i am trailing in the Altima as EJA motors his vehicle to St. Paul's. it is surreal. surreal to see him behind the wheel of a large automobile.
And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack
And you may find yourself in another part of the world
And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful
Wife
And you may ask yourself-well...how did I get here?
...
And you may ask yourself
Where does that highway go?
And you may ask yourself
Am I right? ...am I wrong?
And you may tell yourself
My god!...what have I done? (Once in a Lifetime, Talking Heads 1984)
setting aside the surreal moment for just a brief moment, i point out that one of EJA's brake lightbulbs is not working. he knows.
of course. i lived with him for four years and never once saw him drive
a car.
St. Paul's Cathedral is at capacity, folding chairs are in the aisles for seating C&E Christians. (Christmas and Easter-only). Awed visitors experience High Church in its liturgical glory: incense, procession, monotone scripture reading and intercession, Schubert string quartets, the 2nd largest pipe organ in the county, Christmas carols, big cavernous cathedral with excellent acoustics. dont forget the candles everwhere, and that the entire church is lit by candles. even the bishop is here and is officiating the mass.
people come to church for all sorts of reasons
queens love this stuff. (maybe its the ceremony and the priests in their drag purple vestments ?)
one loud and irreverent queen-attendee is in the pew directly behind me, laughing and flapping his lips at points in the service. this one is clearly here not for worship, but likely because dragbar Lipps across the street wasn't offering a parody midnight service.
the translated lyrics to one very old and beautiful German carol from the 15th century (Es ist ein Ros) that we sing causes a few snickers among representatives of the BB community, who, as it just so happens, are sitting in my pew and the ones surrounding.
This Flower, whose fragrance tender
with sweetness fills the air,
dispels with glorious splendor
the darkness everywhere;
true man, yet very God,
from sin and death he saves us,
and lightens every load.
the mention of the word load is too much for some to bear.
EJA is sitting next to his 12-step sponsor L who i learn is also an usher here. soon before the midnight mass begins, my buddy P finds me in the crowded sanctuary. (i had called him after getting a seat.) he sits between EJA and me.
P is preoccupied with loss tonight, he smells of cocktails. his dog is terribly ill and the prognosis is not good. he needs comfort tonight, he wants to stop thinking about his dying baby for just a few more minutes. grief never comes easy.
the young couple directly ahead of me is taking it in very silently. its a young white girl and her cholo boyfriend, a shaved-head latino who checks his cell for messages while she goes to take communion. neither one sing the carols. he doesnt pass the peace (when we all shake hands during the service).
several people i havent seen forever are here, including JB who was good friends with my ex TRM way back in the early 1990s. JB lived at the club san diego for months on end.
the service concludes with Silent Night and The First Noël, both sung in the glow of candlelight
i drive P to his vehicle and we exchange kisses. he is better now, at least for the time being.
on the way home from the service, i drive along empty streets. just minutes into Christmas day, i notice a line of at least 3 or 4 people waiting to get into one of the local bathhouses. i never have seen that many people in line there, on any night.
some men have nowhere else to go on this holiday, and come to the tubs to kill the time. some bathhouses have Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners catered in. maybe this one does too, but i dont know for sure. the CSD used to do that years ago. (thanks BLH for the link to this very real blog)
from Advent 1955, John Betjeman
Some ways indeed are very odd
By which we hail the birth of God.
its been a long day full of oddities, one that started off with a romp and little sleep and turned into a fairly normal holiday.
