The Courage to Connect 4 June 2008

I’m not sure where to begin. As I consider the flashback, Mike’s words echo in my ear, “Can you just get me from point A to point B? Is that so hard?” This year’s Oscar noms were not his cup of tea.

I’ll start at the beginning, a very good place to start. In October, 2004, I participated in “Courage Night” at the Betsey Johnson store in Seattle. I was in my eighth month of treatment for breast cancer, receiving radiation at the time. For my part of the program, I read an excerpt from Geralyn Lucas’ book Why I Wore Lipstick to My Mastectomy ; And promised to pen one of my own.

I moved to New York in May of 2006. Shortly thereafter, I passed Betsey Johnson walking alone on the Upper Eastside. I said nothing to her. Later, I wondered where my courage was when I missed that moment.

On April 12th, 2008, I went to meet friends at the Murakami exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum of Art. Given my preference for train-free Saturdays, subway construction schedules and the size of the schlep, this was a big deal for me. I sported my favorite vintage coat for the occasion – black with big buttons – and wore a smile to match. Once en route, I got caught on the #2, circumnavigating the right stop. I could not seem to sort myself out.

Well into the second hour, lost and laughing about it, a woman across from me asked where I was going, or trying to go. Then she, Leslie, her man, Kamau, and his son escorted me straight to the museum. It just so happened they were headed there too. We exchanged stories, cards and compliments as we walked; I recall she mentioned my big buttons. Leslie and Kamau went inside to find their friends while I sat outside, awaiting mine.

I found them and we took in some art but the place was too packed. Exhausted, my friends and I planned our escape from the mad-house museum. As we debated what to do, there were Leslie and Kamau. He called a local restaurant to secure real estate for “Miss Pixie” and her pals. A little later, he texted me to make sure we found the place. I knew by the end of the night that these two were keepers.

We’ve emailed in the time since and have tried to reunite. All busy bees, it’s not been easy. But last week, something told me to ask Leslie and Kamau if they wanted to see Stevie Wonder in Atlantic City. Within a few hours, they replied that they were up for the adventure. The three of us arranged to meet this past Monday night for the Stevie pre-planning and some post-work fun. While we initially decided on a bar, Leslie asked, instead, if we could make it coffee. Kamau suggested Pret A Manger on 42nd to add to my Bryant Park idea.

Despite a few spills, we reconnected over coffee. Leslie and Kamau are the kind of couple I want to be around: incredibly artistic, they are open and excited about life and their dreams, both individual and collective. He’s a photographer, event producer and soon-to-be-big-time-blogger. She creatively consults, sews and just launched her own spring collection! What a crafty cookie, eh? And they like me. They really like me!

When the Pret A Manger crew burned something, we headed outside. We noticed a crowd forming as we crossed to Bryant Park. It was a gala of some sort. While Kamau stopped to snap shots, Leslie and I scanned the crowd. And there, emerging from a sea of pretty people, was Betsey Johnson herself. I told Kamau and Leslie how I’d seen her before but been too afraid to say something. At that moment, Kamau pushed my back gently in her direction. The rest they say, is herstory:

I told Betsey I was a survivor, too, and had done Courage Night at her store. She asked me how many years it had been for me. As I said, “4,” she said “10,” and flashed me the tattoo blazed across her left chest. “I hardly think about it anymore, honey,” she shared. “Me either,” I replied, “me either.” I asked Betsey for her autograph and we went our separate ways.

All a-twitter, Kamau, Leslie and I resumed our evening. We hatched our Atlantic City plan and came up with big ideas – for business and pleasure – in the green New York grass. Kamau shot more celebs and we peed at the Cellar inside the adjacent hotel. Twice.

It was a night of connection and courage, nudge needed and all. I’m grateful for the divine timing of my do-over with Betsey Johnson. But more than anything, I’m glad Leslie and Kamau were happy to help me that night in Brooklyn and become my friends. Something tells me we’ve only just begun…