(August 2005) I’m reading My South: A People, A Place, A World of Its Own and trying to convince myself to go to sleep, but thunder is rolling across the sky and lightning is flashing in jagged electric spasms and, just as when I was a kid, here I sit mesmerized by it all and I just don’t want to go to sleep and miss anything.
From the book:
My South is a tree comforting me. Its ivory velvet blooms emitting fragrances of exotic places. Lemon verbena fondly familiar from sea islands to grand plantations. Standing through centuries of hurricanes and sultry evenings silhouetted by the Carolina moon.—Carol Furtwangler
In my south, crickets and bullfrogs are my lullaby.—Edward Jack Smith
In my South, secrets are heirlooms and politeness is a way of life.—Carol Furtwangler
So one of my rabidly Southern Baptist aunts is determined to cure me of my uh choice to be a dyke and is offended now because I took a lesbian to my uncle’s funeral.
(Yeah and we touched your Baptist doorknobs too so WATCH OUT or we just might rub off on you.)
She is now advising me to
please read the enclosed Scripture. You are a great influence to your family. They love you very much and so do I. We can all repent and see our loved ones again for eternity.
She also sent the program from their church service held the Sunday after my uncle’s funeral with its so-called Message from God’s Word entitled “What The Bible Says About Homosexuality: Isaiah 5:20.”
(Was it our nose rings that gave it away? Glad we made such an impression!)
So here are some extra Bible verses that my auntscribbled onto her envelope: 1 Tim 1:9 • Leveticus [sic] 20:13 • Deuteronomy 23:17 • Romans 1:26 • 1 Cor 6:9 • Jude 1:7 • Matthew 7:1-6 (because you can never say that Medea fails to keep you informed).
I’m toying with the idea of donating Stranger at the Gate to their church library, but suspect they’d never actually place it on the shelves. Maybe I’ll donate a book in honor of my aunt too!
BEST OF SPAM SUBJECT LINES: burden creole
(Hmmm. I might have to write a poem about Burden Creole. Maybe one similar to that Wander, Indiana, poem ... and THAT’s an obscure poetry reference that only a few people will get. Sorry.)