This was last night's full moon. A little hazy, but full none the less.
I dont think I got out & bayed. Or howled. I have been having very vivid dreams.
The picture is almost true to life, as far as the colours go, so it will need to be a little girl's quilt. I am trying to decide what colours to use with it. I can see the colour of that mangled yarn would be perfect, but I dont have any fabric in that
colour. Hmmmm perhaps a trip to Spotlight...
In yesterday's post, I was reminded of my life growing up in a small rural town.
How many 'characters' there were, for such a small place!
There were many Churches too, for such a small district. There were the main contenders for Souls, such as Anglican, Catholic, Methodist, & Presbytarian. Then there were the 'weird fringe' churches, who catered to very select, small groups, regarded with some suspicion by the bulk of the population of the town.
There were also smatterings of families who had very different faiths. I dont know if they had actual centres for gathering, or whether they just pactised their particular brand of faith in their homes.
There was a family of Sihks, the tall thin boys with their turbans, & beautiful silver bracelets on their slender smooth brown wrists. I dont recall them having a centre for gathering, though they may have had one. I seem to only recall the one family, & dont remember any girls. It was rumoured in the town, that one of the Sihk boys in Standard 6 which was composed of mainly 12 & 13 year olds, was actually 28. I suspect that may have been a lie!
But the one religious place I most vividly recall, had a church of modern style, situated almost in the heart of town. I can't remember which religion they claimed to follow- Baptist or Bretheren I suspect. I did have some dealings with some of the members, because they did their level best to 'convert' my girlfriend. We had both been raised in the Anglican Church, but by the time I was a teenager, I had decided that the Church & I did not agree. It seemed the more I saw of
hyporites "Christians" the more I mistrusted them.
My girlfriend was an easygoing girl, & she was happy to "go with the flow" .
Boy! did they work on her! A woman called Hazel decided to make my friend J her special project. Hazel had small children, & J & I were available for babysitting duties. We babysat for J's older sister, & various other people we knew, who had small children, & needed a sitter for an occasional night out.
J & I would babysit Hazel's children while she no doubt went off to do churchly activities. Hazel then began to invite both of us to 'slide evenings'. These were terribly boring affairs, which I loathed, but J begged me to go with her, for company & moral support.
We were warned by Hazel to avoid the old chap who gave these slide showings. He had fat white
maggot sausage fingers, & they strayed, always 'accidentally' to places on young girls'- & Hazel's- anatomy, they should never have touched. In short, he was a lecherous old turd, toad, who should have been exposed for what he was.
I suspected that Hazel secretly enjoyed those furtive encounters, & she would blush & giggle. The lights would be dimmed for the slide showing, & then the fumbler would strike. I can't recall where her husband was, while these little brushes were happening. Maybe he couldn't stand the slides either, & worked overtime or something. It appeared to me, there were a lot of men in that Church who had wandering hand syndrome. I never went to the church, but a man who ran the St John Ambulance Cadet classes was a member, & a notorious 'fumbler'.
Enough to put anyone off religion I felt. I am almost certain they were racist also, as there were no Maori members in their congregation, yet all the other churches had mixed congregations.
My friend J attened now & then, was not overly swayed one way or the other, & seemed not to notice, or care about, the hypocrisy connected to the church.
I did not intend this to be about religion, but more about the social stratas in small towns. Well, the small town I grew up in.
There was a dear little old "Miss", the head of the infant school. I swear she never forgot a child's name, & would greet you by name even when you were an adult! She was quite scary really, & did her level best to convert me to right handedness, every time she saw me.
There was a seemingly ancient Maori woman, known as a Kuia, who sat on the steps of the Post Office, & her chin had a tattoo known as a moko, in the style once popular for Maori women. I always felt quite intimidated by this woman, & her eyes would follow you, in her wrinkled old face. She always wore a scarf around her face, covering her hair, and she always dressed in black.
There are many stories I could write about that small town.
Scott Joplin's The Entertainer.