9. Organized Angels

9. Organized Angels


The angels have unionized. The other day I ran into the Local #528 president in Tacoma, Washington (known to be a stolid labor-town).

Actually, I ran under her. She was sitting on a limb belonging to one of the massive trees in Wright Park.

“You look like you might have done some work in your life,” she said.

“Long ago,” I said. “Now I watch a lot of cable-television and worry and run errands and nap.”

“Sounds heavenly,” she said, “and that’s not a compliment. How do you make a living?”

“Oh, I work,” I said. “I just don’t work. It’s very stressful, the sort of unworkable work I do.”

She went on to explain about the union. Labor-strife with God, Who is shop-steward of the universe. Wages, hours, layoffs, out-sourcing. Scabs from polytheistic traditions. The whole bit.

“Let me guess,” I said, “—He thinks the union is the work of the Devil.”

“You got it.”

“I see your shoes are red,” I noted. “Any significance to that?”

“No. I thought they were cute, and they were on sale, as well as union-made. Well, affiliated-made, anyway.”

A gray squirrel approached. The angel and the squirrel spoke in a language I’d never heard. The squirrel departed then.

“That was an angel,” the angel said. “We come in all forms.”