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June 13, 2010 Click here to read about how the party begins in 2009.
June arrives, ushering in a whole new season for our continuing Potluck Tea Party. The weather forecast is uncertain and includes possibility of rain. We forge ahead anyway.
I meet Naomi Namba, who helped out last year, at Marjorie's place on Manhattan's Upper West Side. After the tea is brewed and supplies packed up, we walk beside Riverside Park then over to Broadway to pick up ice. We continue west to the park.
As we enter, I see a flurry of red, white, and blue flags, each bearing a pattern of horizontal stripes flanked by one star. It can only mean one thing. I remember the sign on the Subway platform earlier. Today is the Puerto Rico Day Parade. It feels humid enough to be there right now.
As we locate a familiar spot and set up, Marjorie joins us, her bicycle in tow. Soon friends from helpothers.org, who sponsor Random Acts of Kindness (RAK) show up and bring out a banner, which reads, "Be the change you wish to see in the world - Mahatama Gandhi."
Across the way from them, Naomi ties a big sign to nearby fencing, "Celebrate Community. Have a Cuppa
Tea."
Our first party guest arrives. I ask if he lives in New York City. He says,"no, I live in Queens." We laugh. He asks Naomi, "where do you live?" She smiles and replies, "Queens." The borough is said to be the most diverse in terms of number of countries represented by its inhabitants.
Naomi shares with me earlier that she moved here from Japan twelve years ago because the city is a "good place for art. But it is expensive. I want to live in Manhattan but cannot afford it."
Our new friend pauses mid-sentence to tell me that he likes the tea. I offer him more.
Two women arrive and thankful for the tea and good cheer, smile and say in what to my untrained ears sound "Southern" say they're visiting from Louisiana.
A tall man with an eastern European accent
delights in sharing he's from the Czech republic originally and quips, "but I've been living here
for 30 years!" We toast his longevity.
Just then, a splash of ruffled white catches my eye as two women of asian descent scurry up the path. One woman is wearing a wedding gown, holding the front part up so it doesn't drag on the ground, revealing her bright yellow sneakers. Meanwhile, her friend holds up the tail end. They're grateful for the iced tea, gulp it down and explain that they're en' route to the wedding. We toast them and they head off, laughing.
Our RAK friends set up nearby, taping a poster to a big tree, whose heading reads, "Inspiration." On
it are quotes. They are giving away music CDs. As each person arrives, they are offered an album
list and next to it one act of kindness, which playfully connects to the music or artist. In
receiving the album, the person commits to "paying it forward" with the kind act.
They write with colored chalk on the path, "Kindness."
Back at the tea table, a man approaches smiling and saying he's Nepalese as he hands me his card.
His name: Salin Gauchan. His business: selling tea! He is Director of Sales for Everest Tea Estate. I'm astonished, especially as he continues. He says that his father
is in Nepal, near Kathmandu, and manages the tea farms. They specialize in a black tea, which is often compared, he adds, "with fine Darjeeling teas from India." He says that they are in the process of building a hospital and that their business sustains local residents. He is excited that they recently were contracted by Stash Tea Company to supply them.
A friend, Ruth Klein, walks over, having been invited by Marjorie who spotted her sitting in the Imagine Circle. Ruth makes a wide assortment of pin-on buttons bearing a variety of messages and artwork. Wearing a big muted green poncho, she points to a simple button affixed near her neck. She says, "it's simple but important." The button shows a red circle and two words in black written inside. A red line is drawn diagonally across the circle. The words are, hydro-fracking. She tells us that this refers to the controversial natural gas drilling method known as hydraulic fracturing. She mentions a new group called,Frackaction.
She notes, "Even Bloomberg (NYC's mayor) is against this." She relates scenarios, which describe outcomes of applying this technology. Each sounds equally disconcerting. My ears prick up when I hear, "the water can catch on fire."
As she speaks, a man named Vincent Mantia joins us, carrying a tall beautifully carved and painted walking stick. He says the wood is Birch from way upstate, Watertown, in the Adirondacks where his niece lives. The wood is from the forest on the land she inhabits and had been found and carved for him by Frank Mantia.
Vincent, who lives in Brooklyn and tells me he can also be found on Facebook, injured his leg and says the stick supports his gait. He adds the carved images are drawn from Native American sources, specifically local tribes. A self-described naturalist as well as cellist, Vincent enjoys sharing his discoveries.
After showing Marjorie how to use it as a walking stick when she asks, he starts telling us about the domestication of wild animals. He is particulary fascinated by the silver fox. I introduce him to Naomi who often paints wolves. I show him her card featuring two wolves intertwined with mouths fiercely open so that it appears like their tongues are a blazing fire.
Naomi, whose art includes many studies of wolves, is intrigued by Vincent's discoveries. He asks her about what medium she used for the firey wolves painting. She tells him, "acrylic." Now he's intrigued.
Vincent says that white and black markings on an animal's face indicate domestication. My eyes are captivated by two owls carved atop the staff, whose sparkling eyes seem to voice the power of a totem.
A familiar face arrives on the scene. I recognize him as a fellow who often offers tours of the Imagine Circle, sharing its history. As I offer him tea, he tells me and Marjorie in a thick New York accent, "I'm just trying to do what John would want us to do." I try to picture Lennon at teatime. I imagine him winking mischievously and liking his tea sweet.
As the rain gets undeniably heavier, Naomi and I notice a dry spot beneath a huge nearby tree. We move everything over. I walk over and invite the RAK crew to join us. They graciously decline and bring out an umbrella.
I peruse the collection of CDs on the paper listing them. I choose two and read on the right side the suggested acts of kindness:
"Plant a tree in a neighborhood..." "Bring toys to a local school..."
The rain lightens up a bit and we gather to mark the moment of commitment. Inspired by the exchange of kindness, I linger to check out some of the "Inspirations."
Returning to the tea table, two cops approach. Marjorie invites them to stop for a cuppa tea. Returning from parade duty, they thank us for the refreshing beverage.
One of them lingers to add some honey.
Soon enough, the rain comes down heavy and fast. We pack up and give one of the plastic tablecloths to our Imagine steward friend. He says he'll find a use for it.
Heading out, I laugh out loud seeing who is benefitting from his act of kindness. A black lab dog sitting contetedly beside the Imagine Circle, enrobed in white plastic.
Continuing along city streets in a downpour, Naomi and I wheel our carts through the near deserted terrain. Stopping as the traffic light shifts to red, I share with Naomi a verse. Written by Japanese Zen master Daito Kokushi who lived under a bridge in Kyoto, it is entitled,
Rain:
No umbrella, getting soaked,
I'll just use the rain as my raincoat.
(story: Judy Seicho Fleischman, photos: Marjorie Markus and Judy Seicho Fleischman)