Smells like Jesus

I published a post earlier this evening about a conversation I overhead in my hostess' living room. Soon after, I deleted it. I decided it was unfair--not the way I wrote it, but the fact that I wrote it at all. She should be able to say whatever she wants in her own home without her house-guest broadcasting it to the internet. Even if it's one of the worst things I've ever heard.

I was talking to my dad and then later to Graci today. I told them both the same thing when they asked how I was doing here. I said, "Well, the program is phenomenal. I'm not sure I'd get a better education anywhere. The place, though...I'm, uh, not so sure about it." I said, "You know, there are no gay people here. It's a city of 200,000 people, and there are no gays. I can't help but wonder what they did with their gay people."

You would think that maybe that wouldn't matter to me because I'm not actually gay. But, well...when I was in New York the day after the World Trade Center fell, a firefighter sitting next to me looked around and simply said, "No birds." At first I thought maybe he meant to imply that they'd all burned up or something. But, he explained, "It's a sign that the air quality is really poor. No birds. It means it's not safe to breathe here."

I told Graci and my dad, "There are no gay people, and I think it's a sign. It's not safe to live here." (Please forgive me if the analogy is one of the worst things you've ever heard.)

Tonight, as my hostess and the friend she was talking with in the living room tonight headed out for dinner, I went off in search of a coffee shop. I ended up in the art district. I didn't even know this city had an art district. I walked into a pottery shop and bought several pieces by Sarah McCarthy.

The street was closed for a music festival. No, wait, that makes it sound like I walked into Lilith Fair. The street was closed for a bluegrass/country/80's cover band. A small crowd was gathered, and a couple guys in cowboy hats danced with women (here they're called ladies) in front of the band's little stage. I crossed the street from the pottery store to a shop with scarves and hand-made jewelry in the window.

Inside, I picked up a copper bracelet and a bar of soap made with frankincense and myrrh. Because there's nothing quite like that new baby Jesus smell. The woman at the register had an Obama button on her peasant dress. I said, "Well, it looks like I've found the town's liberals."

She laughed and said, "That's right, baby. We're all right here on these four blocks--the art district."

I said, "Well, I have to say, I'm more than a little relieved to have found these four blocks."

And then, even without the gay bird analogy (I spared her), she said, "Yes, you're safe here. The rest of the town, there's always someone watching, looking at you, listening... But here, you can speak your mind, be yourself. You can be a participant. It's safe here."

I called Graci to tell her I found the birds.