What I Did Last Sunday
This is what I did Sunday night: went to An Evening With Master Chefs, a fundraiser for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. My sister Marla, who is ridiculously talented at this sort of thing, works for the foundation as an events director (I think - she'll correct me if I got it wrong). Her husband, Ian, is the Executive Chef for the Urban Food Group, and was one of the Master Chefs in question. (his course was chicken agnolotti with braised kale and other goodies, IIRC. Tried to livetweet the menu but everything on it was way more than 140 characters). It was, in no particular order, a lovely evening, a successful fundraiser, a hell of a meal, and a pleasant reminder that my sister and her husband are insanely talented folks.
Part of the evening was an auction, where a piece of art by a young man fighting the disease was auctioned off. The bidding was, in a word, raucous. Later, he and his family spoke - eloquently, movingly. His older brothers talked about the frustration of not being able to protect him from this, and about the usual big-brother, kid-brother stuff - like playing video games.
Later on, I found myself standing next to the boys as the evening broke up. I spoke to the youngest, gave him my card, and told him that if his parents thought it was OK, he should write to me and I'd hook him up with some games. I saw him later, standing next to his dad. He was turning my card over and over in his hands and grinning. Grinning a whole lot.
I occasionally joke about how my job ensures that I'm a rock star at bar mitzvahs everywhere. I also, when not joking, will occasionally note that there's a lot about this job that's hard. There's a lot of long hours, a lot of frustration. A lot of time away from home and late nights and all that sort of good stuff, and God knows I'm one of the lucky ones in this field.
But it's also the sort of job that can put a smile that big on that young man's face, and I can think of very few other professions I might hold that would do that.
Part of the evening was an auction, where a piece of art by a young man fighting the disease was auctioned off. The bidding was, in a word, raucous. Later, he and his family spoke - eloquently, movingly. His older brothers talked about the frustration of not being able to protect him from this, and about the usual big-brother, kid-brother stuff - like playing video games.
Later on, I found myself standing next to the boys as the evening broke up. I spoke to the youngest, gave him my card, and told him that if his parents thought it was OK, he should write to me and I'd hook him up with some games. I saw him later, standing next to his dad. He was turning my card over and over in his hands and grinning. Grinning a whole lot.
I occasionally joke about how my job ensures that I'm a rock star at bar mitzvahs everywhere. I also, when not joking, will occasionally note that there's a lot about this job that's hard. There's a lot of long hours, a lot of frustration. A lot of time away from home and late nights and all that sort of good stuff, and God knows I'm one of the lucky ones in this field.
But it's also the sort of job that can put a smile that big on that young man's face, and I can think of very few other professions I might hold that would do that.
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