angels, owls, and the bare minimum
My neighbor, I will call him Sam, is from Iran. He's an immigration lawyer for a large respected immigrant aid nonprofit. I met him at the local dog park a month ago, and then again a couple weeks later at my local bar.
He told me the following story, which isn't mine to share, but he had just told the same story on stage in front of 3000 people, so I don't think he'd mind.
Sam stopped believing in God a long time ago, when he was a kid in Iran and the regime executed his father. Leaving home and having to start over in the West probably wasn't a god-sent picnic either.
But recently, two things happened, almost back to back, that made him rethink God.
The first: At work, he was able to secure the right paperwork so that a woman fleeing a domestic violence situation in El Salvador, I think, could come to the States. When he told her the good news, she wept and said God must have sent him to her.
The second: He saw an elderly Iranian couple on the street downtown as their Uber or taxi arrived. The woman was frail and struggling to get into the car, so he helped her out. Or rather, in. The women told him that God must have sent him to her.
He took these two events as some kind of sign that maybe there is a god after all. Not necessarily some higher being per se, but maybe a sign that "god" lives in all of us, if we'd just open our eyes and pay attention? I can't remember his exact words because the bartenders at this place pour like no one's watching.
There's this tiny grandmother who works in the mail room in my apartment building. She's from Korea, always smiling, loves Yayoi Kusama so much that half her clothes have polka dots, and buys fresh flowers every week to put in her office, as well as at the front desk, and maybe even in the leasing office.
Yesterday morning I saw her at Trader Joe's, filling up her rolling granny cart with bunch after bunch of fresh flowers. I'd seen her several times waiting at bus stops around town (she's kind of hard to miss with those polka dots), so I assumed she wasn't driving, and offered her a ride back to the building. She accepted, kept calling me an "angel," and told me this was a sign that 2024 would be a good year. She also insisted I take one of the bunches of flowers.
Not to diminish Sam's immigration case, even if it was pro bono; he probably saved that woman's life. But that's what he does for a living. He gets paid to try to help people in desperate situations.
As for helping an old person into a car, or offering someone a ride to the same place I'm going — that's doing the bare minimum. Small things that cost us little to no time or energy.
But the way all of these efforts were received — with dramatic religious appreciation — that's what I'm tripping over. Not the god language, but the imbalance of it, especially in the second two stories. When people have gone out of their way for me, I've thanked them, but never with such fervor. I guess it boils down to: Is this difference about what they feel, or about how they express it? I'd like to think it's the latter, that I'm just a repressed WASP who can only be effusive around antiques and dogs.
I'm still thinking about this, and will be for at least the rest of the week. For now, if someone wants to say God is working through me when I do the bare minimum, then I guess a need to find a way to not let that make me so (heh) goddamn uncomfortable.
Shoes
My inbox kind of exploded after that story about the shoe ordering mishap. Some excerpts:
"I would buy the shoes retail immediately if they are available or buy AND make a donation. My shopping rule of thumb is if I am still thinking about an item 24 hours later...buy."
"You need to buy those shoes. Full price if you can’t get them back."
"If you can afford them, give yourself a gift of the shoes. You do a lot for others with little compensation. And I think you can, without guilt, allow yourself a luxury pair of shoes. Just like you pointed out in the article, you need to take care of yourself so you can care for others. Well, that taking care of yourself should include giving yourself a reward every once in a while. And when you wear those shoes, just feel damn proud of yourself for all you do. And buy a few cases of diapers too."
I'm over the shoes. They were returned to the warehouse and the refund will post tomorrow or Friday.
But I did go to my favorite Pennsylvania antique store over New Year's, and scored that amazing Kawano print up top.
Links
Tom Scocca is one of many super smart writers I started following in the early Twitter/Awl days. His story "How my body fell apart" is both expertly written and utterly fucking harrowing and he is only a year older than me. Whatever you're putting off: Do it now. (NYMag)
"I don't support laws that stop Nazis from saying what they want to say, but that doesn't mean I allow Nazis to put signs on my front lawn." Thank you, Mike Masnick. (Techdirt)
Related: The best daily newsletter ever, Today in Tabs, is officially off Substack and worth every penny. (Today in Tabs)
I love this story about how a woman used Bumble to basically get confessions out of January 6th insurrectionists. (NBC News)
"For far too fucking long, female rap has felt like a suicide career choice. The general formula seems to take these young, brave, beautiful, smart and ambitious poet girls, egg them on to rap about the gnarliest shit, and, once the things they rap about start to mirror their public life, subject them to a public character annihilation. We've seen the comments, child. Bitches is deeply unkind." Brontez Purnell's review of the new Nicki Minaj album is fantastic. (Interview)
On the many benefits of puttering around your home. (Dwell)
I'm halfway through this great podcast about the Big Dig. (WGBH)
A woman created an ultrasound bra that may be able to detect breast cancer. (Wired)
This made me laugh. (TikTok)