The man on the corner of 9th and Nicollet is
standing on an overturned milk crate.
What is probably a bible of some sort is held overhead, with one hand, while the other gesticulates wildly at the throngs of people passing by him.
It is summer in Minneapolis, a glorious and brief three-
to four-month fete of green Green GREEN, of dresses, of sun-hungry skin and
ridiculously thin-soled shoes. We spread our arms and fly through the long days,
our eyes open, the corners of our mouths up.
Bright-eyed and brimming over with the unfettered simplicity of summer,
our shoveling/car-engine jumping/have-you-seen-the-heating-bill exhaustion of
winter behind us, we breathe in every moment of warm air as if it were a gift.
We are light-headed and woozy, in love with the easiest
of seasons.
It is the lunch hour, more or less. My heels click on the sidewalk as I approach
the corner of 9th and Nicollet and the man on the milk crate.
“Cover your shame!”
I look up, point at myself: Who? Me?
“Yes, you!” he shouts.
“Cover your shame! For the Lord
sees your shame and knows your wantonness!”
I frown, pausing, the click of my heels slowing. Wantoness!
I think, Holy moley, what’s he lookin’ at? I
glance down at the front of my shirt, at the length of my skirt. This skirt, after all, tends to slowly
rotate, clockwise, when I walk. Too long
a walk, and eventually that cute little slit in the back works its way to the
front…
I reach to feel the seam that should be running down my
backside.
It’s still there.
There is nothing wrong with this outfit.
I look up at him as I pass.
“It is upon the flock to bring the wayward woman back, to
call her to return!” he shouts. “Cover your shame!”
I give him a thumbs-up, call out to him. “You’re
doin’ a helluva job!" I say.
But he has moved on already, and I am just another nameless,
errant woman. “Cover your shame!” he
bellows toward the woman behind me, another woman in a skirt.
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30 comments:
The opening of summer is also the opening of mating season for weirdos. You did well to resist his charms.
Got any pictures of where he was looking? I'll check for defects hurhurhur!
Good read.
Not me, I'm not covering my shame! Here it is, buddy! Look at my shame!
It was a long winter...he probably went insane waiting for spring.
Bless his heart -- as my friends in the South say! -- he's out there every Thursday once the weather allows it. I appreciate his sincerity, I just wish he'd shut up sometimes.
He should practice what he preaches and cover that mouth of his.
That dude needs a girlfriend.
He obviously isn't sincere... otherwise he'd be there even in the worst of winter. Summertime preachers are like "Summer soldiers" or "sunshine patriots."
You wouldn't want to flip off one of those guys in Arizona. He might be holding a gun in his other hand.
You took the high road; the woman behind you apparently missed the turn-off.
Or, you saw the humor; she was turned-off.
There's a line vaguely like that in Psalm 44, but your street-preacher's version is mixed up. Probably just his way of saying hello.
Seems like the operative word for that guy was "woman", nothing else. If you're a woman, you're sinning.
Nah, we're not, fella.
Great comments, by the way!
I recall running in a sports bra and shorts and some dude yelled at me from a passing car, "I LOVE YOUUUUUUU!"
I also recall shoving my driveway in baggie snowboarding pants, a huge, oversized snowboard jacket, a face mask and a hat …. and having some dude yell, "WHOOOOOOOOO!" at me as he drove by in his car.
I think my shame was pretty much covered. But tell him that.
"shoveling my driveway"
I typed too fast.
Some people have no shame.
That was a great come-back to say. It would be fun to go up to him and ask for directions to a random place.
Glad I missed him. Wouldn't mind seeing that circumnavigating skirt, though. I have a pair of pajama bottoms that do the same thing. To a point.
This is why you're such a better person than I am, Pearl... the last time someone told me to cover my shame, (and in WBGV, it happened a lot, usually followed by, "you harlot!") I took my top off.
Somehow I get the feeling he doesn't make a lot of friends on that street corner. Though rather a lot of cousins follow his lead.
Definitely, you are a far far better person than I!
Wacko religious zealots can be so weird.
I have the same skirt!
He's a well balanced man, actually. I could not take the milk crate dais, except to perdition, and the fall would be mighty.
By "shame" I think he means ankles. Don't you know how scandalous you are flashing them in public?
He was standing on a crate,huh. I am surprised you did not say something witty, like: "Your shame is at my eye level!! Trying to show off?"
You missed the moment!
I suppose that in the winter time, everything would be well covered up!
you should have knocked him down a notch off that soap box milk crate. Best to smile, nod and move on.
I am so ready for the kind of summer you describe and the way summer makes me feel. I may have to go back and read that part again. I loved that. As for the man yelling from the street corner, I don't think I would have even noticed him because my head would have been too full of summer thoughts. :-D
From the dawn of time some men have blamed women for their shame. Not most, fortunately.
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