fans & gods and dogs named aloka

When I was a kid, and my mother was going through a seek religions that work for her phase, she took me to a lot of religious places with her and one night we went to a gathering in a house of worship that was like a regular church, mostly, but the officiaries wore robes. Not like priest robes. Different. Plain. Pale. Helen of Troy robes. No adornment. The robes just flowed. Plainly, if that makes any sense with “flowing.” The men looked weathered by sun, they were clean shaven, and they were bald. And still looked like men, in Helen of Troy robes. And we kneeled on little kneeling benches in pews. Which makes me think it was maybe a normal church that was honoring another religion? I don’t know. I was a kid. And an honored bald man in a robe spoke. Then he walked down the center aisle. And he stopped and looked at me. And smacked me with a fan. 

Not a mean smack or anything. It was just, more than a tap, less than a strike. It was a smack with purpose.

Then he walked on. And we walked out to the car and headed home. 

There’s something you know, when you grow up with someone who gets mad a lot. You know when they are mad. They get stiff. They breath a little different. Their eyes change shape a bit. They are… clenched. And just sort of a little bit vibrating. Not so you can see it. But you can feel it. They are frozen so still and angry they vibrate. With anger.

She was really mad.

Sometimes when she was mad I’d just play dumb and not talk. Or change the subject. Sometimes when she was mad, I just wanted to know something and so would push on anyway. Or was just feeling ornery and okay with getting hit with a belt that day fuck it, I’ll go there I’m tired of you being angry. 

Okay I was an aberrant child and just pushed on anyway a lot. Which is why I got hit with a belt a lot.

But anyway.

I really wanted to know why the guy smacked me with the fan. So I asked. It’s always smarter to play dumb and not talk but that’s never been my strength.

And she said, He baptized you.

And she meant “blessed.”

And then I knew why she was so mad. 

She wanted to get smacked with that fan. 

It worked out at other churches though. Nobody else smacked me with a fan and she made a big deal a few places telling them I couldn’t take communion because I didn’t understand what it meant. 

She ate the body of Christ a lot to make that clear.

(Sorry Jesus, not your fault.)

I still kind of am happy about the man with the fan though. That was something she could never take away from me.

.

Love and Kisses,

.

Your Blessed by a Fan Adams Girl

___________________________________

PS: In case you are wondering why all this is coming up now, have you seen the Walk for Peace? And Aloka?

The Walk for Peace reminds me of the blessed man with the fan.