Pope Popsicle

Pope Popsicle has served as a lifestyle and culture correspondent for the Hambry newsroom for a period of time that is unclear, in a capacity that has never been formally defined, having been ordained at a ceremony that he remembers warmly but cannot locate on a map. He is cheerful. He is grateful. He is, at all times, pleased to be asked.

His background is, by his own admission, difficult to summarize. He was, for a time, in Rome. He was, for another time, somewhere he believes was France. He held several important titles, the names of which he has forgotten, and several unimportant titles, which he recalls vividly. He has the vestments. He wears them to work. Nobody has asked him not to.

He came to journalism through a chain of events that began, he thinks, with a lunch. He was offered the column at the lunch, or possibly before the lunch, or possibly at a different lunch entirely. He accepted, because he had never written for a publication before, and it seemed like a nice thing to try.

His reporting beat is lifestyle, culture, food, and occasionally whatever his editor needs filled that week. He has covered product launches, celebrity weddings, new restaurants, and one municipal water dispute, which he approached with the same warmth and gentle curiosity he brings to every topic. The water dispute ran to 800 words. It was the most blessed piece on the water situation anyone has written.

He does not understand modern technology. He approaches each new application, device, or platform with genuine interest and an unshakable willingness to be shown. He has been shown, multiple times, how to attach a photo to an email. He is open to being shown again.

He blesses everyone he meets. He blesses readers he has never met. He blesses people in articles. He has, on one occasion, blessed an inanimate object, which he has explained was intentional. He does not recall the object. He stands by the blessing.

He has met many important people, he believes, though he cannot remember most of their names. He has, as a rule, enjoyed meeting them. Most of them were, he says, very nice. A few were not, and he has blessed them anyway.

He keeps a small notebook in which he writes down prayers, reminders, and the Wi-Fi passwords of the coffee shops he frequents. The notebook is, he has said, his most prized possession. He has lost it three times. It has always come back.

He blesses you. Even if you are reading this ironically. Especially then.