In July 1985, while traveling in Nicaragua, I met two Maryknoll missionary priests and offered to serve them, washing dishes, digging ditches, whatever I could do. One of the missionaries started to say yes, but the other jumped in, "We have enough people to do these jobs. Who sent you here? If you want to join us, you have to be sent by a church back in the States." I told them I wasn't sent by anybody, but that "I am right here now, ready to work."
"No," said the lead missionary. "Go back to the States and have somebody send you down here to join us."
As I walked away, I saw the Maryknoll priests arguing about me out of the corner of my eye.
*******
In December 1985, while I was homeless for three or four weeks in New York, I went to the monastery on West 31st St. and offered to become a Franciscan monk. I was serious. The fellow behind the counter said, "Well, usually people thinking about becoming a monk are recommended by their church. Did your church recommend you?"
"No," I said. "I don't have a church."
"You aren't Catholic?"
"No," I said.
"Well," said the fellow. "That would be a good place to start."
*******
A couple of days later, still homeless in New York, I met a young monk who worked in a women's homeless shelter in Hell's Kitchen. It was cold and I was looking for a place to stay, but obviously I couldn't stay there. So Young Monk offered to let me stay in his apartment somewhere around West 40th St. by the Lincoln Tunnel. I was so frozen and hungry that I accepted.
The first day was fine. Young Monk drove a cab on the side and let me ride with him all over the city, even though he knew it would cost him some fares from those who might be afraid to join two men in a taxi. We also hung out with Young Monk's friends who were dancers for the Broadway show, Cats. I saw a side of New York that I had never seen before. They paid for everything and told me I was the type who would be very handsome when I was in my 40s. :-)
But by the next day Young Monk told me he was really only interested in having sex with me. When it became clear this wasn't going to happen, he kicked me out, back onto the cold, mean streets.
"No," said the lead missionary. "Go back to the States and have somebody send you down here to join us."
As I walked away, I saw the Maryknoll priests arguing about me out of the corner of my eye.
*******
In December 1985, while I was homeless for three or four weeks in New York, I went to the monastery on West 31st St. and offered to become a Franciscan monk. I was serious. The fellow behind the counter said, "Well, usually people thinking about becoming a monk are recommended by their church. Did your church recommend you?"
"No," I said. "I don't have a church."
"You aren't Catholic?"
"No," I said.
"Well," said the fellow. "That would be a good place to start."
*******
A couple of days later, still homeless in New York, I met a young monk who worked in a women's homeless shelter in Hell's Kitchen. It was cold and I was looking for a place to stay, but obviously I couldn't stay there. So Young Monk offered to let me stay in his apartment somewhere around West 40th St. by the Lincoln Tunnel. I was so frozen and hungry that I accepted.
The first day was fine. Young Monk drove a cab on the side and let me ride with him all over the city, even though he knew it would cost him some fares from those who might be afraid to join two men in a taxi. We also hung out with Young Monk's friends who were dancers for the Broadway show, Cats. I saw a side of New York that I had never seen before. They paid for everything and told me I was the type who would be very handsome when I was in my 40s. :-)
But by the next day Young Monk told me he was really only interested in having sex with me. When it became clear this wasn't going to happen, he kicked me out, back onto the cold, mean streets.
Art: Giovanni Bellini, St Francis in Ecstasy, Mont'Averna.
Apologies to St. Francis, though I'm sure he would understand.
My! A bunch of merry monks you've met! Thanks for the Monk Chronicles....
ReplyDeletewow, what a story and what an adventure! Was it in Nicaragua that you got really sick? I'm not sure, but I think that the last time I saw you was some time in 1986 because I think my daughter was just newborn and you had recently returned from some exotic place. I remember that you were SO incredibly thin and had a beard...I thought I probably wouldn't have recognized you on the street and was worried about your health. So it's pretty weird that we haven't seen each other in 21 years! Someday hopefully we can remedy that and you really should write a book! peace, Sharon
ReplyDeleteThen...wasn't that when we wired you $99.00 and you took the Greyhound to Santa Cruz and we picked you up looking thin and hungry and we spent Christmas in the Magic Carpet Motel overlooking the wharf and the Boardwalk with a 18" high fake tree in a box complete with twinkling lights? (or was that some other memory?)
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