I decided to ride west today, foregoing the ocean on a different sort of mission – to buy some little Easter presents for Dennis and Sharon. At home in Peru I can let Easter come and go without much fuss and even though my brother isn’t a church-goer (when there were still churches you could GO to), it seems to me it’s the kind of holiday for Sharon and him encourages gift giving.
Earlier in the week, they sent an Easter basket to Mom and today, Dennis and I delivered Easter baskets to the three round-the-clock caregivers who look after Mom. Sharon is thoughtful and kind that way so I thought the least I could do was reciprocate in some small way as she’s at home now preparing a flourless chocolate cake to have with our rack of lamb and couscous for Easter dinner.
I crossed the railroad tracks to the other side of Jupiter where gas stations, Jiffy Lube, pharmacies and other essential businesses are still open. I stopped at Walgreens where all the Easter goodies were on sale – nothing practical that Dennis and Sharon could use but I got some stuff anyway.
The next mission was to find a comfortable place to sit and write on this side of town. I took a small cross street and discovered a neighborhood I’d never seen before in all my visits to Jupiter over the years. There were lots of pickup trucks in the driveways of small houses and yards with homes that looked like they were built in the 50s and not in top state of repair. The few people I saw outside were Hispanic.
The workers, I thought, who do the landscaping and pool maintenance on the east side of the tracks, and others who work in most of the still essential businesses. I so appreciate the workers, especially the ones who take care of Mom in 12 hour shifts, driving in from nowhere near Jupiter.
I’m grateful to all the workers in grocery stores and pharmacies here in Florida and around the world, still working. I think of the people in Peru who built our retreat center and keep it running; who built my home, tend my garden and clean my house. I’m sad I have no Easter presents for them this year.
As I continue to ride up Center Street, I was sad this working class neighborhood had no park benches to sit on with palm trees and flower gardens. I turned left on the Old Dixie Highway, stopping short when I saw the most stunning carved driftwood benches next to an unused renovated warehouse building, empty inside but with a beautiful painted mural on the outside wall – a tribute to the railroad workers of a time past.
As I write in my journal today, I sit on the most comfortable bench yet, looking out at the railroad tracks, appreciating what workers – past and present- built, hoping all of us build a better world together on the other side of this crisis. That’s the resurrection I’m longing for this Easter.
April 12, 2020