Anniversary

 September 28, 2026

Two years ago at this hour I had beaten a path to I-26, fleeing to Charleston to get away from the aftermath of Hurricane Helene. Yesterday was the official second anniversary, and there was a service at the Cathedral to commemorate it and to initiate our capital campaign. Mayor Mannheimer spoke, as did candidate Jamie Ager, who’s the cutest big old country boy. I remember buying produce from him at various farmers’ markets. He gave me a long discourse on a plant I was considering for my garden; it might have been rhubarb. Beside me sat a boy of about 11, of radiant beauty. His name was Jay. His mother had clearly let him dress the way he pleased, and he was decked out in soccer shorts, a T-shirt with many slogans, a ball cap, and a heavily jeweled necklace. It struck me that an 11 year-old boy, given his own head, will dress like a barbarian chieftain. Or the other way around. A number of people– two in particular I spoke with at the reception yesterday– hate the Dean with unexpected ferocity. They spoke with me in conspiratorial tones, expecting that I shared their perspective, which I might if I understood the issues. I try to rein in my own judgments, to discover that the judgments of others are at least as ferocious–and far quicker–than mine. My lack of attention can pass for lovingkindness, for which I am grateful.