young Father James
The priest in charge of the Episcopal diocese where I live, cheerful and sociable but quietish young Father James, is a regular at my favorite bar on Wednesday afternoons, when we all get together to celebrate the reopening of the bar after its customary Sunday through Tuesday closure to let Mimi, the proprietor, have some down time to sculpt and paint.
Yesterday at the social, someone slid a bag of super-hot tamale chips down to the bar to share. When the bag reached Father James, who was happily sipping his highball, the only drink he’d have (he always has just one), he dramatically leaped from his barstool, thrust his arms forward and and made the sign of the cross with his fingers at the bag, like characters in the movies do to ward off vampires. We all got a big chuckle out of that - he chuckled too - and took it he didn’t want any chips.
I feel so lucky. I mean, how many people have actually seen a bona fide man of the cloth - in full priest garb, backwards collar and all - make the sign of the cross with their fingers to ward something off, much less a bag of tamale chips? I am blessed.
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