Pat Taub
GUEST POST by MICHAEL STEINMAN
I did not grow up in the tradition of angels, except as tropes in comic books and cartoons. Harps and wings, no no. I did not watch Touched by Angel or the Hallmark Channel. Frank Capra’s Clarence was all right because he was a homespun mortal, sweetly goofy.
Later, I encountered angels aplenty in the Thirties pop songs I love – I Married An Angel, Got A Date with An Angel, and When Did You Leave Heaven? among others, in which the Love Object (resembling Jean Harlow) is deemed celestial so the singer can get her into the bedroom.
A scene from It’s a Wonderful Life with Jimmy Stewart as George Baily and Henry Travers as Clarence the Angel
But I know now that angels are all around us.
Here are two recent stories that reinforce my belief as solidly as I believe in the sun coming in through the window.
I am going to be married next year to a truly remarkable woman: let me name her the OAO, the One and Only. She’s in the medical field, so she didn’t want a diamond ring because she washes her hands all day. Both of us love New York City, but now we fantasize about living someplace more pastoral. Last week, we found a different kind of diamond ring: it looks wonderful on her hand.
That night, we were in Manhattan, walking to meet a friend, and the OAO turned to me on the dark street and mused out loud, “I can’t believe it. I’m getting a diamond ring and we’re talking about moving to the suburbs. What is this?” A cheerful woman, bouncing towards us, had overheard the rhetorical question, and said gleefully, “That’s because You’re in Love, Honey!!!” and went off giggling. She was an angel, one of Aphrodite’s mobile team, I am certain.
An Everyday Angel in action
And an incident even more stark in its mystical beauty. I can be an inattentive pedestrian, because I am thinking about six things at once. Two months ago, again in Manhattan, I tripped over an uneven bit of sidewalk and went down — on forearms and knees rather than on face and teeth, a blessing in itself. I was embarrassed but not wounded.
While I was struggling to get up, a young man came around one side and said, “Hey, are you all right? Let me help you up!” and took my arm, and another, took my other arm and got me to a standing position. I thanked them, said I was OK, and told them that because it was dark I couldn’t see their halos but knew they were there.
One said to me, “This universe is not for us. We are here by mercy,” words I found stunning. Celestial rescuers for sure.
Everyday Angels offer hugs to those who are hurting
In both cases, the angel bestowed a gift of love and enthusiasm and solace, and scurried off without wanting to be acknowledged. Grace in action, a crack in the dense surface of things through which healing light can blaze through.
We can all be Everyday Angels. Many of you reading this already are. The universe needs bursts of unexpected love. May you both receive and give it.
Michael Steinman is a writer and retired English professor, who thinks his real work is his jazz blog (JAZZ LIVES), where, through videos of live performances worldwide, he “sends out love in a swinging 4 / 4.”
