Walking through San Francisco from my office in the Financial District up into Chinatown and North Beach was a favorite lunch break for me. One day returning from Caffe Trieste or Molinari’s Deli, as I waited at the stop light at Columbus and Broadway, I heard someone quietly walk up next to me.
First I saw the tennis shoes. A little oversized. Then, looking up, I found myself looking into twinkling blue eyes of– what at first appeared to be a middle-aged woman– but it was a man!
Not a man in drag, like my old neighbors on Lily Street, but a man impeccably made to look like a woman. A man in drag I could’ve understood, but this was something else. It freaked me out.
Years later I found out: an actor, during a break from filming, had left the film set, and gone on his own lunchtime walk, still in full makeup and costume. He was playing a middle-aged woman.
Mrs. Doubtfire.
And so he had a little fun seeing people’s reactions, like mine, to see if the illusion would hold up.
[Apparently Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon did the same thing, when they tried out their wigs and dresses (and heels) for “Some Like it Hot”.]
So I did not recognize him.
Have you had that experience? Of not recognizing someone, of not seeing?
I feel a little sympathy for Cleopas and the other disciple. Who would be the last person they would expect to see, on the road to Emmaus? – besides Robin Williams.
The master.
The one crucified just three days ago. Sure there were rumors, crazy stories. But now?
It was all too real. You could excuse them for freaking out. But they did not. At first they did not see Jesus, they saw a stranger. Then a companion on the way. And by time they invited him to dinner, he had walked them through what had happened, what had to happen, according to all the Scriptures.
Only these truths were not so strange, and he was no stranger. He was their teacher.
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