No, not the bricks by my pool which can use some work: Freemasons as in the secret handshake and the like. But I am getting ahead of myself.
Yesterday while walking in the railroad parking lot, one underneath a rather dingy trestle, I spotted a glimpse of a hat. There on the ground it was: perfectly folded complete with gold letters along with a starched white apron with a Mason’s symbol, and a folder with a few papers. No one had run it over yet – an inevitability for that spot – and it was clearly possessions cherished by someone.
My schedule was tight so I took the items, tossed them in the car, and hit the trains. I forgot about the whole thing, that is until I got back in my car that evening and saw them waiting for me.
That night I prepared for a project – enlisted the children – to use the clues to track down the owner. When I opened the folder and found a program from the previous night’s dinner, I realized my task was easy: there was the lodge leader’s home phone number. Seven digits and I had his wife – he was (surprise) at a lodge meeting but would call me in the morning.
And so he did. I will return the items to him on Sunday – a ten minute ride. He offered me lunch (I declined) and then said something which caught my attention: Was I interested in becoming a Mason? Now I am not the fraternal organization type on a good day and I am not sure the past year and a half qualifies as a good day in any event. But here was this sweet offer. I politely demurred.
The thing is that part of me on Sunday looks forward to handing him the items and heading my merry way. But there is another part of me which would like to say:
“I don’t think I’m really your target market. I am a liberal Democrat gay Jew.”
I won’t say that of course, but there is that little piece of me which just wants to share that simple acts of courtesy really are universal and maybe leave one little mark that gays are really okay.
Time for the weekend: I am still uncomfortable with the terms, but I suppose I do have a date – a night in the City with Phil (pre-discussed at home: no more surprises) and a day at the beach with him and Stan tomorrow. The new life begins.
Have a good weekend all.