God misfathering, the first decades

Usually you are -like- not even born when your mother sticks Godparents on you, for some reason that seemed obvious right then, but no one remembers 30 years later. Godparents have long since moved to Toledo and dedicated their lives to Orphaned Samoyeds of Northeastern Ohio.

But not so when you get appointed to God-parenting Jun 1, 2015 by a fully-fledged Superchile herself. As perfect Aphrodite emerging from Zeus' split head. With a feel and the zeal of Born Again Godchile.

Cannot speak for Professor S., but for me it all started innocently enough. If I am made to enter a mall, I start developing green spots within the 1/2 hour of confinement. So Godchile and Godchile's Mom, who is a pro in all things Cuban Latin American Princess, drove me to the scariest, meanest of all the malls in this town, and within 20 minutes I was owner of fancy Japanese tweed pants (I've never been able to find that miraculous textile again), cargo pants, and a flower-patterned shirt that my department's Black secretaries compliment me on to this day, and we were out of the Mall again.

We did not get a pair of sneakers, so that's a Mall visit still awaiting: getting me my J'z :)

Then I went to Copenhagen, and Godchile had flipped the script for me - with the new pants, shirt

and a gay boy cut young women saw me again. Reborn. Even fell in love with the 23 year old Nína from Iceland (did not take much - she actually started talking to me) but no need to alert the authorities, it was over by the 2:30am night bus and nobody noticed. Except I have like one zillion pics of a woman with flowers in her hair.

Strictly speaking it was not illegal, but it was pushing it, with my puzzled nephews and nieces, thinking "WTF? Why is uncle P. sitting out there in the night on a bench with Nína, 47 years out of sync?"

 

Godchile and I share secrets that no one will ever be able to crack:

Me: "Check mine (scroll down for the details) https://m.flickr.com/#/photos/birdtracks/9344308133/in/set-72157634630128814/ . Do you approve of the derailler? What has changed my life is Modolo Brevettoto E-2091 handle bars - wide bars make one feel more manly :) I've gotten lazy (and now lack tools for that) so I had a bike mechanics replace the bottom bracket UN-55  for the steep $30. And gave up on cleats, replaced them by classic commuter pedals MKS Sylvan Stream black  for  another steep $35."

Godchile: "Ahhhh vintage aluminum! Before I was subjected to the pothole addled streets of New York, I rode nothing but Aluminum bikes.Very whippy and like an extension of the body. Once had an Italian steel bike. The Italians definitely know something about frame building - it was the only frame I've ever ridden that had the responsiveness of aluminum but the forgiveness of steel."

Godchile: "Love cleats I just don't like the shoes I have  as much. Current pair of shoes belonged to my friend who is dead so the mojo is skewed. But regardless with properly tensioned pedals you never think of releasing your feet it traffic. Like driving stick. Oh and surely you are referring to SPD pedals ? There is no other way to go in the city." 

So I got Corky for Godchile. (Corky is a heroine of Jarmusch "Night on Earth"). My post-teenage year's idol,  could not do better. But Heathers? Godchile: "At the same time I was memorizing every word in Heathers, I was reading and rereading Brave New Word and using it as the subject matter for my Paideia application essay. Shouldn't that have been a greater cause for concern than Heathers? Seems like I must have grown up in the Wild West days of parenting..."

 

But that could not last. After splitting a decade between two very miserable though decent men, the Godchile was on a move again, sucking me instantly into the eye of a falling-in-love hurricane.  

Godchile: "In other news I have a viable crush on a mathematician (with Standford credentials and all) at work. Everything was fine until our offices moved and they sat him across from me. Now I'm deeply distracted."

 

Me: "Wonderful news. But, what was his PhD on?" Godchile: "Ultimately he had to be eliminated due to the fact that his PhD in Math is in fact - UNFINISHED."

 

Godchile: "I met  Mr. R. at the bar downstairs and I have a terrible crush. I am still trying to gather my wits and connect the dots. I have not had a crush in at least 12 years and I am - to say the least - not very good at it. Though this guy definitely does very good work and what good's a crush without excellent brains???  So now you get to truly be my godfather because I feel like I'm TWELVE."

Godchile: "I had a nightmare about  Mr. R. last night. I was sitting at the same bar where were met, he walked in and sat down next to me. Proceeded to say nothing. And I was suddenly MUTE and unable to say anything either. Then some woman walks in, sits down next to him and captivates his attention. After observing his hands on her legs for at least five eternal minutes, I wake up feeling bad."

"I have since consumed 5 shots of espresso and dyed my hair black. Well... not jet blue goth black but dark enough."

 

Me: "Cute. You are a LAP (Latin American Princess) and it cannot be helped. You have not had a conversation with him yet, and you are already fending of the Other Woman? :)"

Godchile: "Oh but i HAVE had a conversation with him! The most scintillating hour I spent all year, so much so that then i panicked and ran! I may yet have some LAP in me but i do NOT get crushes without conversations :)  Shit, I got NO moves. Maybe you do need to  come up here and seduce him for me."

 Me: "I'll go to bed with him, ungay as I am, if that's what it takes. Decade ago he claimed to be dating a woman (“Nurse, pass the vagina!”), something some of the attractive NY men have done at some time or other. Well, maybe. There is always the issue of the hair on his back. "

Godchile: "My first instinct upon meeting Mr. R. was to run like hell. So after 45 min of conversation that spanned what seemed like several universes, I bolted leaving no phone number, no suggestions and only my name. When the article came out a month later I emailed him. We had a few e-exchanges wherein I have also failed to suggest anything outside my affinity for brains and an overwhelming disdain for the FDA.  Thanks for considering it as ungay as you are."

Godchile: "Other than that, I have been working 80 hours a week and have little to report.  Oh, I'm going to have some art in an upcoming gallery show in Chelsea. I'm going to shave my cat now."

 

 

All this adrenaline - it had to go somewhere. And indeed, things took a darker turn next:

 

 

Godchile: "Tomorrow I will return to my local climbing wall and meet Schauerbach (don't they all have such WHITE names??) and enjoy the falling and the catching for what it is and be happy that at least I have confirmed that his back is totally free of hair"

 

Me: "Well, if the brain is what it seems to be, a hairy back is a minor distraction, quickly forgotten. A funny smell, however, can be insurmountable. We are mammals."

 

Godchile: "We had a friendly outing today to the rock climbing gym. A VERY good place to go with a crush it turns out. How ridiculously appropriate is it that one belays the other and then if and when one falls, (which I certainly did) the other one catches the one falling but i'm sure you've rock climbed and can appreciate this"

 

Me: "I like the physicality of it - falling, catching, holding - no better way to be mammals together.  I might be over romanticizing your physical prowess, but this Youtube.com/watch?v=0bHF5Yfu_jQ makes me think of you two :)"

 

Next thing. Godchile shows up at our house, and drives me to this place

 

All I can say about that is that I am still alive. Nothing like this had ever happened to these keyboard tapping hands. However, and I says this with all proper Godfatherly decorum: in the same setting, my Godchile is very presentable.

 

 

The `climb' cured me forever of feeling excessively guilty as a dead-beat Godfather. It's a job a wimp like me cannot live up to. Me, the dancing chicken! , just happy that we have each other.

So, let's dance!