I just returned from a remarkable day in NYC. It will be one of the key days of my life. My purpose in going into Manhattan was to find an apartment. I already know the city so well. It is very hard to find an apt. in NY even if you have millions. Yet generation after generation of college grads and high school grads enter the rental mkt every year. The stories people tell make it seem impossible but it happens. I believe it was this way in New Amsterdam.
I made a point of going to a midtown church where I had my memberhsip, pledged a lot of money for me, and volunteers hundreds, if not thousands of hours. Periodically, I would go into worship and shop. I prepared to make a concerted effort to re-establish connections. When I arrived at the church, it seemed a bit different but time did pass. There is a formal reception area. I believe most of it is post 9-11 security. Long before 9/11, I wanted and begged for more security, particulary for women and children. The bldg is right across a narrow street from a terrorist's dream hit.
I went in, dressed well, but not full corporate. I told her I had been a member for twenty years, a member of a private social club there, and volunteered in the church administration and ministries. Were it not for my physical illness, I never would have had time to do these things. It was one benefit of being ill --if one can call it a benefit. I paid my dues. I asked if I could talk to a clery member or administrative staff for a few minutes to say hello, ask which present ministries or clubs would most appeal to me and were I could serve the best. I mentioned I wanted to know if thru informal network anyone would know about apartments.
After the Witnesses, it was very hard for me to approach people. My college profs always told us to do it anyway. They made nice fun of us and asked, "So what, what is the worst that can happen. " With clinical and very corporate detachment, she informed me I was completely inappropriate and I was begging in a church. I stood taller and said, "the paid clery here does not have two or three minutes for a courtesy call." No. What the F. happened while I was away. They trusted me to overhear important and sensitive information. I informed her where I practice and that I was going to pull out directories call people, and write effective letters to the rector (the top priest in these churches) and the Bishop of New York. She mocked me.
I was in tears. Nevertheless, I resolved to continue my networking with a store and some clubs in the area. I never made it. Within a few seconds, I was in a taxi, heading up to the Bishop's office. I worried that the poor taxi driver might worry that he had an ax murderer in his cab so I diverted myself by discussing the economics of NYC taxi business. After we chatted for fifteen minutes (it was a very long and expensive fare), I calmed down and asked, "May I tell you when I started out in tears." I told him. He said it is a very bad church but where you are going is a good church with very good people." I thought he was priest or attended the local seminaries. He clicked his tongue and said, "Do you think you are the first one I've had in my taxi? I said with utter shock, "there have been other people upset?" He said "Yes., oh yes." "I can't help but over hear. But you doing the right thing going to this church. The man does not live in Manhattan, belong to the denomination. He then informed me that many years ago the bad church was a very good church that helped many rich and poor people but not it was a business.
To shorten the tale, I ended up at the Bishop's Office. They said most people come in by appt. I said, "Oh, no. I want an appt. Please, I would not be so rude as to not make an appt." Next, a special priest with behind the scenes power was talking to me. I told him what happened. In fact, I even told him that I was raised a Witness. He said tactfully what a journey." He even heard about the random taxi driver. I told him if I thought someone were emotionally disturbed or just uncouth, I would not be so hurt. She was so proper.
He gave me his business card. His influection, face, the words he spoke were magical to me. It was everything I wanted to hear. The Bishop will hear about it at the earliest possible moment. He told me the name of key priests at the midtown church and what to highlight. So, being me, "You don't think I am being improper?" "No, I am so glad (with sincere face or he is an Academy Award actor). The senior clergy need to know what happened as soon as possible. Ever uncertain b/c of the Witnesses, I said, "Father, please be candid and honest with me. Did I do something wrong or inappropriate or not Waspy. This is not the culture in which I was raised. I am often uncertain of the unwritten rules. Father, what is wrong with begging? He said emphatically, "you did everything right. You were not begging and nothing is ever wrong with begging."
I am back home. Part of me wonders if I ever went up to the Bishop's Office. Maybe I am fantasizing. It hurt me so much b/c of the Witness upbringing.
I am now back home. Still uncertain. I could have badmouthed the church in certain places so their restaurant base customers and others would hear. Also, I have directories. It is a surprisingly small world. Despite the years away, we knew about six key players in common in a short conversation. So, time will tell if a worldy church is any better than the Witness. Perhaps it is even worse and I only saw the cute curtains.