towels, Mormons, and 911
[Alt text: Yellow tshirt with Holiday Inn logo above the word Cambodia.]
Towels
I've been helping my sister-in-law clean out and organize various closets and storage spaces in her house. Each week we spend a couple hours working, loading 50+ pounds of Goodwill-bound stuff into my car, and then she feeds me dinner.
Last week, part of the outgoing haul included several old bath towels, which weren't nice enough for Goodwill. But I know animal shelters can always use them, so I put them aside. The shelter is a good 30-minute drive from my apartment. It seemed silly to drive all that way to drop off just a few towels, so I posted something on the neighborhood listserv, like, "Hey if you have clean old towels you want to donate to the shelter, let me know and I will come get them."
My inbox EXPLODED.
For two days I've been driving all over the place collecting towels and other donations for the shelter. Most of these interactions have been great, because many of these people have dogs I can play with for a few minutes. I met a bernadoodle puppy this morning named Callie and fuck she was so cute. I also heard from a woman who used to live across the street from the house where I grew up, whose kids I used to babysit. I remember, back then, thinking she was rich because she had a medicine cabinet full of Clinique makeup that I played with. It was in her bathroom that I finally taught myself how to use a tampon. Of course, I didn't tell her any of this when we saw each other again. It was mostly updating her on births and deaths in my family and playing with her little Yorkie. Another woman emailed me that she had just lost both her cats, in rapid succession, and had boxes of unopened, unexpired cat food she wanted to donate, but no car to take it anywhere. She'd even called the shelter to make sure they could use it (the shelter has a "pet pantry" where low-income people can get free pet food, etc.). It's all in the trunk of my car as I type this.
Then there was the old woman whose house is falling down and who hoards "supplies" to donate. I don't know what part of the word "towels" she misunderstood, but my god she had so much crap to give me. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, I put all of it in my car and drove away. Half of it has already gone into the trash. Including A Manual For Green Iguanas, published in 1992.
I guess I didn't realize just how big this listserv was, and what I was getting myself into. Still, it has me thinking: If I have the time to drive around and collect donations, and people out there want to donate things, maybe this is something I can do on a quarterly basis, as long as I can avoid hoarders. If any DC people know of, say, a women's shelter that needs stuff, let me know?
Mormons
A week or two ago I mentioned that the Mormon temple here, what lots of people refer to as the "Disney castle" (I mean, look at this thing), was opening its doors to the public for the first time in 50 years. Something about a rule or tradition that, when a building is first built, or in this case remodeled, they must let the public in to baptize it? I reserved my spot and went. It was... a very strange letdown.
That castle exterior encases what feels like a regular, boring, 10-floor hotel or office building. Or even funeral home.
Let me back up a second. Before we could even go in, we had to cover our feet with plastic shower caps, because they didn't want thousands of people to mess up the brand-new, wall-to-wall beige carpet. Which is reasonable, if environmentally irresponsible. I spent half the tour wondering if there were babies around me because I could smell diapers. Through my mask. It took me a while to realize I was smelling these things on our feet:
[Alt text: My shoes, covered in beige shower caps.]
I didn't have to put them on myself, or remove them afterwards. There were volunteers who did that for each guest. Maybe a reference to Jesus washing feet?
Anyway.
This was a typical hallway inside the temple:
[Alt text: A credenza with a beige pattered chair on each side. There are two glass lamps and a bowl of flowers on top of the credenza. There is a mirror with a gold frame on the wall above it.]
Really exciting stuff, right? OK here's some of the "art" and I apologize for the half-assed photos but I wasn't sure if we were allowed to take pictures so I was trying to do it quickly and on the down-low.
[Alt text: A painting of a man in a hairy one-shoulder swimsuit, with his right arm in the air, next to Jesus who is in a white robe and staring straight ahead. They are both up to their waists in water.]
[Alt text: A man in a beige, floor-length robe, with a large white blanket on his head, is seated and holding onto a tall stick with his right hand. His left hand has the palm turned up, and he is looking at a woman kneeling on the ground looking up at him.]
Michelangelo, eat your fucking heart out.
There are special, sacred rooms where people change into the white clothes they wear for whatever the Mormon version of Mass is. These special rooms look an awful lot like carpeted locker rooms. Here's the men's:
[Alt text: A room with a rack of around 50 identical white jumpsuits hanging underneath a shelf with 36 folded white towels.]
And here's the outfit the women wear. I asked "Is this a wedding dress?" and a volunteer answered, "It could be, but this one isn't."
[Alt text: A long white dress with long white sleeves, very plain, on a hanger.]
And no, I did not make any jokes or ask any questions about their "magic underwear." I didn't want to get kicked out (my friend's brother once got kicked out of Graceland for asking to see the "walk-in medicine cabinet") and also I am not a complete asshole.
The most visually interesting part was the room where baptisms happen. It looks like a college lecture hall with stadium style seating. Here's the stage:
[Alt text: A small indoor pool, surrounded by white marble, with a small staircase that descends into it, and the base of the pool is ringed by 10 or 12 life-sized sculptures of cows? Rams? There are horns. In the background is another bad painting of Jesus and another man standing very close together, waist deep in a river.]
The single most sacred space in this temple, I think a place where people can go sit and be with God somehow, was the most disappointing for me because it was so boring. It is basically the Oval Office during the Clinton administration:
[Alt text: A large room with beige carpet, beige chairs and couches, some plants and mirrors, and shiny wood tables.]
The vaulted ceiling had some glass chandeliers, but that's it.
It's all... fine, I guess? But the dramatic exterior of this building suggests there will be MUCH more exciting things inside. I know this is a fairly new religion, but come on. There are hundreds of stunning churches in Italy for inspiration and thanks to the internet, you don't have to go there to see them. Hell, here's a whole Twitter thread with images of gorgeous mosque ceilings. If the idea is to be low-key or humble, then why have such an over-the-top outside? I'd make a joke about the carpet not matching the drapes, except in this case the carpet literally matches the damn drapes.
To be fair: All I know about Mormonism is what I saw on Big Love. It's not like I expected Chloë Sevigny to round the bend with a washing machine in a wheelbarrow. But I was hoping for — expecting, even — something visually awe-inspiring.
I felt a little guilty about my disappointment, because the volunteers were all so nice; none of them tried to evangelize me, and they had invited me into their spiritual home. Then I remembered the whole missionary thing, which I find wildly offensive, and got over it.
And if any Mormons are reading this: I will not debate religion with you (I am a judgmental heathen). But I will happily try to understand the logic behind your decor, if you want to share it with me. Of course, I will share it here too, anonymously.
Links
Politics: Roxane Gay (NYT) and Lyz Lenz (Substack) on the news re: abortion. Also: Fuck you, Susan Collins. (Jezebel)
A thread of mostly great stories about men protecting women from predatory men. (DeMilked)
Scientists are getting closer to breaking plastic down in just a few days. (Vice)
We're allowed to go inside lots of embassies in DC this weekend. If anyone knows which ones are the most visually exciting, LMK. (Washingtonian)
The Lincoln Memorial gets a bath. I wish I could have helped. (Digg)
Photos capturing queerness in San Francisco’s lowrider community. (Huck Mag)
Bisa Butler's latest quilt looks incredible and I can't wait to see it IRL. (Instagram)
A Wiggles concert with lots of alcohol and no kids looks like a lot of fun. (Digg)
The guy behind Peaky Blinders is going to make a series about UK ska music. (Deadline)
Me, when I heard the news about that ska series. (Twitter)
Speaking of ska, it is AAPI Heritage month, and here's a good interview with Mike Park. (Consequence)
"this spot reserved for ppl that twerk at babies." (Twitter)
A funny post about how disgusting single men are. (Gawker)
911?
I fell asleep Saturday afternoon, with my windows open, and woke up to the sound of a woman screaming. I could hear rage and terror in her screams. I looked outside my window, down at the street, and saw people looking up at my building. In an intro psychology class a million years ago, we learned about the diffusion of responsibility. The example was a time in the 70s or 80s in New York, where everyone in an apartment building watched as a woman got stabbed to death. They all assumed someone else had called for help, but no one had.
So I went downstairs. I saw a white woman crying. Another woman trying to console her. It was awkward as hell. Before long I learned the woman crying was the one who had been screaming. That she was, in fact, only 15 years old. She said her father had just tried to kill her. She did not appear to be physically injured. I called the local police station. The person connected me to 911, and as I was explaining the situation, a Secret Service police car pulled up**. Before long, there were 8 or 10 cop cars there, with lots of police (both regular and Secret Service). I sat to the side and listened. This girl was still very upset, mentioned her therapist, mentioned trauma and the number of times she had been raped in her life, something about her parents being angry she had snuck out of the house the night before. UGH. A couple police went inside with her, and told me to wait outside, in case I had to make a statement. Half an hour later, just the cops came down and told me I could go.
I was not the first person to call the police; that Secret Service guy was already en route when I was calling for help. And I have since learned there is a number you can call here for people having mental health crises. (I'm not sure if they help with people under 18, and they haven't replied to my tweet.) But I am wondering what you would have done in a similar situation. There is no way to know what was really happening. This could be a mentally unstable teenager. Or a mentally unstable teenager in an abusive home. The cops could have hauled her away into foster care. Or they could have killed her father. I don't know how it ended, but I'm guessing this is going to happen again, and I'd like to be a little more prepared. Doing nothing does not feel like an option, so I would love to hear your thoughts. As always, you can respond to this email and anything I share will be anonymous.
**I do not know why Secret Service police responded to this. It makes no sense and this city is way over-policed.