Byzantine Characters
The tiny Byzantine parish I attend has many more interesting characters than the big suburban parish I also frequent.
There is one gentleman, in his late 40s/early 50s, who never takes off his Fedora hat or suit jacket. He looks exactly like someone transplanted from the 1940s. Two other fellows, most obviously gay, are regular, devout attendees. Judge not, I remind myself.
I recall once, as I was walking out of church, striking up a conversation with a lady who Steven Riddle said he knew. "Hello - do you know Steven Riddle?" I said, only to realize that she was in mid-breastfeed (I know Bill Luse is saying, 'not that subject AGAIN O'Rama!'). I didn't know what the etiquette was/is on talking to a woman while breast-feeding but since I shouldn't have been talking in church anyway I moved on rapidly.
One time I was asked by an usher to wield the long-handled baskets at the offertory. I didn't know what I was doing but he said "follow what I do". I followed him and did the bows where he did, but while moving down the aisle, for some reason I felt the need to smile maniacally and thank people as they donated, as if they were chipping in towards my personal book budget. The next time I was asked to do it I was able to do it with greater decorum. Small victories, ya know.
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