concert conversation
The scene: St. Ignatius Loyola Church on the upper east side, a lovely, and very rich, old Catholic church, where I'm indulging in my guilty pleasure of some sacred choral music--Bach and Part, as sung by the Hilliard Ensemble.
I'm sitting in my pew (oddly they'd removed the pew in front, so it felt like I was in the bulkhead pew or the exit row pew; very nice) waiting for the concert to start or God to strike me down when a woman comes in and sits down to one side of me.
She's a classic Manhattan type, an old lady, middling income, maybe no husband anymore, almost certainly liberal to a fault, kind of frumpy and lumpy in her old age, but in whom you can still almost see the younger person who probably had amazing experiences and wild adventures. Like, the kind of person where you hope she has grandkids, and if you do you easily imagine they think she's way cool. No clue what her name is, but since I have to call her something, let's go with Alice.
There's also a woman about my age sitting on the other side of me, who I will not describe in as much detail, since she's only got one line. But I will call her Monique, even though she's not the Monique I know.
Anyway, now that the scene is set:
Alice (getting settled, sort of under her breath): Are all Catholic churches like this?
Me: ?
Alice: Well, it's just the seats are so hard. Episcopal churches usually have cushions, I think. Maybe the Catholics will add them eventually.
Me (considers this, then slightly sadly): I don't think Benedict's going to be all that into cushions, unfortunately.
Alice (Immediately picks up on this): Hmm you're probably right. Not for women anyway.
Me: Yes. Actually, under Benedict, they might start adding spikes.
Monique: Hmm, they'll probably start by making the seats bumpier.
Me: Exactly, bumps first, spikes maybe sometime down the road...
And we sit there, kind of laughing, and kind of not, because as a thumbnail sketch of what everyone's expecting from Benedict, it's kind of funny. And kind of not.
And then the concert started. Review maybe sometime later.
I'm sitting in my pew (oddly they'd removed the pew in front, so it felt like I was in the bulkhead pew or the exit row pew; very nice) waiting for the concert to start or God to strike me down when a woman comes in and sits down to one side of me.
She's a classic Manhattan type, an old lady, middling income, maybe no husband anymore, almost certainly liberal to a fault, kind of frumpy and lumpy in her old age, but in whom you can still almost see the younger person who probably had amazing experiences and wild adventures. Like, the kind of person where you hope she has grandkids, and if you do you easily imagine they think she's way cool. No clue what her name is, but since I have to call her something, let's go with Alice.
There's also a woman about my age sitting on the other side of me, who I will not describe in as much detail, since she's only got one line. But I will call her Monique, even though she's not the Monique I know.
Anyway, now that the scene is set:
Alice (getting settled, sort of under her breath): Are all Catholic churches like this?
Me: ?
Alice: Well, it's just the seats are so hard. Episcopal churches usually have cushions, I think. Maybe the Catholics will add them eventually.
Me (considers this, then slightly sadly): I don't think Benedict's going to be all that into cushions, unfortunately.
Alice (Immediately picks up on this): Hmm you're probably right. Not for women anyway.
Me: Yes. Actually, under Benedict, they might start adding spikes.
Monique: Hmm, they'll probably start by making the seats bumpier.
Me: Exactly, bumps first, spikes maybe sometime down the road...
And we sit there, kind of laughing, and kind of not, because as a thumbnail sketch of what everyone's expecting from Benedict, it's kind of funny. And kind of not.
And then the concert started. Review maybe sometime later.
posted by gloomyjoe at 1:15 AM
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