The holy ghost shops at Staples
As anyone knows who has spent time in Harlem, Sunday is the busiest day in the neighborhood. Every church is packed and the fashion parade of shark skin suits and monochromatic pastel hats, dresses, hose and shoes is more exciting than Paris fashion week. The scent of fried chicken permeates the air.
Last Sunday after a rebel rousing night the night before I simply had to run errands I had been putting off for days.
My Holly Golightly neighbor, Lucy and I headed to 125th Street admiring the ladies outside of their respective churches in cotton candy headgear. We make a major dent in Marshalls but when it was time to head into Staples, Lucy feigned illness and I darkened the door alone.
It was around 2PM and church had just let out but for one dear lady in Staples, her church service hadn't quite ended.
Wearing a floral print blouse and a bright yellow skirt she donned a royal blue turban with a brooch pinned to the front like a metropolitan Maharini. On her way to the copy center she bent over, grabbed onto a pile of recycled paper, let out a loud holler and proclaimed, "Oh Lord! Thank you! Oh lawd! Oooooh mercy me! Oh he is a good Lord! Yes! I hear you lord! Thank you!"
While this was happening her head was shaking her feet were stomping and her entire body was jittering.
I whipped out my phone in a panic to call 911 thinking she was having a heart attack, but nobody else even noticed her.
Then a calm and cool pair of ladies breezed by and without even blinking declared, "That's right girl. Work it out. Someone found the holy spirit a bit late today."
"Well at least she found it honey," sighed the other.
"I say amen to that."
Once she let out a couple more Hallelujahs, Amens and Thank you's she picked herself up and went on with her business like nothing happened. I proceeded to buy my camera battery and will never think of Saint Staples the same way again.
Last Sunday after a rebel rousing night the night before I simply had to run errands I had been putting off for days.
My Holly Golightly neighbor, Lucy and I headed to 125th Street admiring the ladies outside of their respective churches in cotton candy headgear. We make a major dent in Marshalls but when it was time to head into Staples, Lucy feigned illness and I darkened the door alone.
It was around 2PM and church had just let out but for one dear lady in Staples, her church service hadn't quite ended.
Wearing a floral print blouse and a bright yellow skirt she donned a royal blue turban with a brooch pinned to the front like a metropolitan Maharini. On her way to the copy center she bent over, grabbed onto a pile of recycled paper, let out a loud holler and proclaimed, "Oh Lord! Thank you! Oh lawd! Oooooh mercy me! Oh he is a good Lord! Yes! I hear you lord! Thank you!"
While this was happening her head was shaking her feet were stomping and her entire body was jittering.
I whipped out my phone in a panic to call 911 thinking she was having a heart attack, but nobody else even noticed her.
Then a calm and cool pair of ladies breezed by and without even blinking declared, "That's right girl. Work it out. Someone found the holy spirit a bit late today."
"Well at least she found it honey," sighed the other.
"I say amen to that."
Once she let out a couple more Hallelujahs, Amens and Thank you's she picked herself up and went on with her business like nothing happened. I proceeded to buy my camera battery and will never think of Saint Staples the same way again.