Anjie and Babs

There are a few deliveries that I still remember, even years later, as if they happened yesterday. They are a small number compared to the total amount of deliveries I’ve been on. Tonight, I had one I think I’ll remember for awhile.

“Oh, it’s you again!” is how I was greeted at the front door of a what was probably not-quite a million dollar house in Baltimore County tonight. This was actually a little strange, because I don’t remember ever delivering to this place before, but the person saying it looked familiar (maybe I delivered to him at another address? This was a little spooky, because he clearly knew me).

I was up on his porch in between the big gushes of rain. It was just drizzling, I rapped on the door with the knocker, then looked through the window to see if anyone was coming. From what I could see, quite a bit of money had gone into the interior decoration of the house — lots of brass and antiques.

And what looked like a portait of Anjelica Huston.

After being paid – and tipped* – I inquired, “I’m sorry but … is that a portait of Anjelica Huston?”

(I mean, it struck me as odd – who would have a portrait of Anjelica Huston in their home, and why?)

He handed the pizza to his partner, and led me into the den adjoining the entryway. He explained that it was indeed a portrait of Anjelica Huston, then showed me a red hat that Barbara Streisand had worn in some movie I’d never heard of. There were also a couple of busts of Barbara Streisand from other films she’d worked in.

I won’t remember him because he tipped well. I won’t remember him because he is a homosexual. I won’t even remember him because of the Anjelica Huston portrait. I’ll remember him because of how willing he was to show a complete stranger part of his eclectic collection which clearly meant a great deal to him. He showed an incredible amount of openness and trust to a total stranger … and that was really cool.

0 thoughts on “Anjie and Babs

  1. That is cool. I wi=onder if I could interest him in my portrait of babara cartland (on fire and clutching a bowling ball)