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On the Way to Ireland
In July and August 2005, I spent two weeks in Ireland. Most of it was with a tour group via a public radio station, before I stayed at a Dublin hostel for three days. Back then I dwelled in the Twilight Zone — that is, Topeka, Kansas, because living in the house where my mother grew up meant I didn’t have to pay rent. Plus I love old houses.
I’m at a café in the Kansas City airport. I want to use the restroom before I go into the, oh, terminal waiting room, since you must go through the security check point every time.
Yesterday, Aunt Ethel dropped by in the evening to bid me farewell, and I showed her the canned cat food for Cheetah and all that. I did show her my new, tall cabinet, and she looked at some of the statues I’ve made lately.
I think she’s not only going deaf but totally losing her short-term memory.
Last time Aunt Ethel visited me, I was working on my statue “The Snakes Return to Ireland,” a woman in traditional Irish dress and draped with snakes — or rather, a Celtic version of the Snake Goddess. This time, she looked at the statue and asked, “Is this St. Patrick?” I didn’t snort. I simply explained (again, and uncomfortably) the name of the statue. It’s rather anti-St. Patrick, the Goddess-rejecting jerk. So there. I have a bunch of my Pagan art upstairs, where she’s not likely to see it. It’s fortunate that…