The Tribe

It happens only once in a lifetime - at least, it's only happened once in my lifetime. That incredible synchronicity of personality, wit, and humor that goes beyond friendship into something I can only describe as the tribe.

The tribe had already formed when I was admitted; I got a job at a small bookstore in a small Southern town. The other women working there seemed okay - most people who work at bookstores are okay. Really. They are. I had no idea how special these women turned out to be.

I had been on the job for about a week, attempting to make light of the never-ending task of "shelving". Yo! The books don't get on the shelves themselves, nor do elves come in at night and make it happen. It can be the one of the most tedious tasks. Alphabetical by author, etc., bleh. It's fun in the science fiction section, not so much fun in the philosphy section - which is where I happened to be on the day in question. I picked up

Critique of Pure Reason

by Emmanuel Kant, and it hit me. I started to sing. "Emmanuel Kant was a real pissant, who was very rarely stable..." I sang quietly, under my breath. I really didn't think any one would hear me.

From the other side of the one of the tall-boys (a large bookshelf over 6 feet tall), I heard "Oooh! Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar who could think you under the table!" Karen, my co-worker, who looks like a cross between Yoko Ono and Angelina Jolie (heavy on the Jolie, light on the Ono) came running around to my side of the shelf, shouting "Benjye! I knew it! She's one of us!" Benjye, a black goddess with chocolate eyes, a velvet voice, and a hug to match) joined us and we completed Monty Python's homage to philosophy - up to and including: "Rene DesCartes was a drunken fart; I drink therefore I am!"

I was, at the time, nearly 37 years old, and never knew anyone else who knew all the words to the song. Ever. I nearly wept with joy. I was home. We were a happy, dysfunctional group, who often sniped with each other, who argued about whose menstrual cycle was controlling the group, and laughed more at work and at life than any one has a right to. Christine, tall and willowy, went from resembling a fairy queen to an anime character (and has since returned to her human form!) Kristen, a feisty, petite, gorgeous bombshell continued to shock everyone with her ability to curse like a sailor (worse than any of the rest of us; and that's saying somthing.) It was golden.

Golden times end - and the tribe members moved on to different jobs. Some migrated back to the bookstore at various intervals, and then left again, but the tribe has remained golden.

This past weekend was our most golden moment so far. Our Karen, our Asian queen, married her prince, in a barefoot-on-the-beach, hippie, laid-back wedding that put every other nuptial event I've attended (including two of my own) to shame. From beginning to end, it was right. Karen's friends and family (and the tribe) helped prepare the event, carried out all of the tasks, and we all floated on the joy that emanated from Karen and Dan. (Even though Dan didn't want to wear the ice-cream man outfit Karen had picked out for him, he emanated as much joy as she did. ) For a special wedding present, the Tribe gave Dan the wedding gift of a "cleavage shot" - I 've never seen a man's eyes so big. But then again, seeing that much cleavage all in one place would make anyone's eyes big. We are, as a tribe, a chesty lot.

Christine, the other witch in the tribe, pointed out to me that on that full moon night, the five of us had made a perfect pentacle of boobage. Indeed, we had. It wasn't a salacious picture at all - there were no nipples involved, although, if given encouragement, we probably would have gone there. It was a celebration of our sisterhood.

As I looked at the image on the digital screen of the camera, I knew that Christine was right, we had sealed it - the tribe is now official.