I leave work to go to my committee meeting at the Cathedral. I’ve been a member, gosh, for three years now, of the Adult Formation Committee.
Chris McCullough was the Adult Formation Coordinator and head of the RCIA when I went through classes and confirmation. He said at the time that we should attend some committee meetings and see if we were interested in volunteering for further service. For some reason I got it into my head that we were like required to check out the committees, like it would be really bad form not to do so. So I went to a couple of Adult Formation Committee meetings and a couple of Social Justice Committee meetings.
The really wonderful Dori was getting on the Social Justice Committee, but I found a better fit for myself with the folks on Adult Formation. My sponsor Barbara was there, as well as Pat and Mary. All good folk. And so I’ve stuck around.
So anyway, on my way there, on the block and a half walk, I necessarily go by Camelot, more formally known as Camelot Show Bar. And walking out at that moment, dragging an enormous rolling suitcase, is Ana C. I know her from way back, from my own drunken nights spent in strip clubs during my divorce. She danced under the name Rio at Archibalds on K Street. I think I may have first met her at the 1720 Club, or maybe Good Guys, but I don’t remember. She danced for a long time at Nexus Gold Club. Her sister danced at Archibalds as well, and later at Camelot, under the glorious name of Oona, before moving to California.
Ana C. now sells costumes to dancers all over the city. Hence the suitcase. I load it into the back of her minivan for her and we chat for a minute. I remember that she had had a son, and she says he’s doing well. She’s had another baby, just last year, a girl. I ask after her sister, and she’s doing fine, still in California. And Ana herself is looking better; she seemed like she had lost a lot of weight after her son was born. Too much weight. I used to beg her to eat more every time I saw her.
So then we say our goodbyes and I head off to my church meeting. And again I feel all full of myself. All renaissance-y, like I did on Thursday with the power tools and ballet. Today I’m the good Catholic boy who’s still friends with the strippers.