When the Homily is about Immunology

My Commute with the Abbott

They say that timing is everything, and in this case two relatively rare individuals happened to have their timing in sync. I was heading home after having "botched" my timing to catch the 3pm sailing, I settled for the 3:45 boat.

Walking down from 3rd avenue to the waterfront proved to be an exceptionally wet and windy adventure, which made extensive use of my hat's straps which worked far better than the innumerable umbrellas I watched be turned inside out. Passing in between buildings was like walking past giant wind tunnels. I thought about how funny it was to watch people amidst so many monuments to man's "power" being forced to run and hide from the weather which in the grand scheme of things was only really gently giving us a gentle whippin.

After drying out for a bit in the ferry terminal we started loading and as we did I noticed a gentlemen standing nearby who was clearly an Orthodox monk - not something you see very often. He had clearly been doing a good deal of traveling as he carried a large backpack and suitcase and he looked rather "weathered" as one might be expected to look after making a trip to Spruce Island in the winter (I'd find out later).

So I followed him to the seating bay he chose (and in the process may have perhaps weirded him out some), and introduced myself. Turns out he was Abbott Gerasim from St. Herman's Monastery in Northern California. So we spent the ferry ride talking, and planning.

We talked about all manner of things and discovered a number of "connections" we had - particularly with regard to Rade, who he was quite happy to hear was going to be married soon. And we did some planning because he was on his way to Port Townsend and was needing to connect with Jefferson County Transit via Kitsap Transit, the process of which I knew a little something about. However while on the ferry we received news that the Hood Canal Bridge had been closed because of the high winds and so his trip was in jeopardy of not be able to proceed further than Poulsbo.

So I gave him my phone numbers and after making sure he knew which Kitsap bus to catch, told him to call me if he ended up stuck in Poulsbo. Secretly I hoped that the bridge would remain closed so that he would bless us with his presence at our home. I mean really, how often to you get a chance to offer hospitality to an archimandrite who is in need of shelter? How selfish is THAT!

The weather made for a very long bus ride across Bainbridge (a tree was down and several traffic lights lost power) and during the drive we heard on the driver's radio that the bridge had opened and Father would make his connection to Jefferson Transit - however I expect the details were a bit more complex than that as I later heard the bridge had not opened until after 7pm which may mean he was on the bus but sat on it for a couple more hours. But not having received a phone call I assumed he was eventually able to make it to his family in PT.

Arriving home, my family was excited to show me the remains of half of a very tall tree that had succumbed to the winds and nearly crushed the storage shed along with Rade's camper. "Hmmm," I thought, "that would have gotten Rade's attention had he been here"...well, more wind harvested firewood.

And no power outage at home - amazingly.