I fell on my way to corned beef and cheescake yesterday. I fell on a street corner in Brooklyn, attempting to make legend for two young men related to me by love and blood . I wanted them to feel the mustard on their chin and tease the remnants of rye bread from their teeth with greedy tongues. Then, there could have been the cheesecake but, it was not to be.
I tripped, fumbled up the concrete and foot found the perfect outcrop to twist against and rip wide open a forehead gash, worthy of thirty stitches. But- magically- no concussion, no brain bleed, no broken bones, no teeth making ringlets round the crash site.. Just lots and lots of blood. And kindness.
I lay on the sidewalk in front of Juniors in Brooklyn and my head gushed. The gash was impressive but I felt, not bad, actually. A little leaky but not light headed. I felt grounded. My body was strong. I had clearly felt the pound of each knee hitting concrete and the warning that I would smash my hairline in a solid and measured way. Right onto that promontory that dug deep. But I was being told not to worry. It would be a solid hit, and right on that selected target sticking up, daring me to get close, to look deep. And then there would be baptismal blood. Lots of it. And there was.
When I sent photos and spoke with my doctor the next day she said, “Gee, did you get the message?”
“I beg your pardon, “ I said.
“Looks to me like your third eye got ripped wide open. Get the message?”
I love my doctor.
But back to the battleground. It amazed me.
The color was rich and red and that pleased me. I’m not much of a warrior and I had never left so much of me on the playing field.
The face of the young woman who was calling 911 was so worried. She was brave in her reporting, fearful of the inside of me on the outside, on the sidewalk that had foot held many Jews and others making pilgrimage to their promised land of ethnic munching. Her boyfriend was Felix and he too was very kind. Very, very calm and not worried and he spoke to one of my nephews on the phone, the love connection one, and told him calmly that I was losing blood and that an ambulance was coming. It was fascinating.
When I got to the hospital, it just so happened an old friend, who lived not far away, actually just happened to call me. And just happened to think to call me at that moment . And my other nephew’s mom called to ask after our meeting- which of course never happened– and then she was in the circle and he was in the circle and my sister in a far away city was in the circle. And they chittered and gabbled and cracked jokes about my cracked head and filled me with the kindness that blood can sometimes give you. Blood and kindness
I am, we are, despairing of community lately. But take a look around. How many of us are readying our yellow flags of hope for Saturday’s march?
And Peace in Gaza? Well, no, not really? No, luxury hotels are not worth the pounding of thousands of lives into dust. But maybe evil can only be defeated when it is baited out of battle toward the slathering of shekels, says the Jew, ironically.
But, we are finding any way we can to get each other’s attention. That is, the cosmos and us earthlings. And if that takes 3 inch head gashes on a pilgrimage to cheesecake, or the worry of knowing that 911 must be called, despite the nausea and terror of red stained sidewalks, or the activation of family circles that get over themselves and show up with laughter and joy, solid and present, there is something out there to knock some sense into us. To let us know, loudly, that we are love, after all. Given , giving, receiving and transforming. Get it?
Optimism makes us feel good. Hope takes work.
Okay, there is hope.
Instead I did not go to outrage, but rather kindness, to corned beef, to cheesecake that is not kosher when connected to Fleisch but never mind, we are talking approximation here.
