You think you know someone and then out of the blue a heretofore unknown fact comes to light that knocks you for a loop. I have recently learned my sister Kathy is a witch, or a Wiccan. I haven’t googled to know if the term Wiccan is a re-branding to make it less of an eye -of –newt sort of thing, or if Wiccan is a sect of full-on witchery. This news came to me via a conversation with my brother during which I learned not only is Kathy a witch but she attends a witch’s convention every year.
Convention? Well, that right there had my mind off and running. I imagined a cabal of ladies holed up in cabins in Appalachia, scheduled of course during a full moon, doing weird things at midnight. This after a day of guest speakers, then breaking up into small groups: Spell Casting or Prophecies or Warlocks and You. I wondered who the keynote speaker was? But for all I know this annual Meeting of the Broomsticks might have taken place at the Hyatt in downtown Philadelphia.
I should be clear; my sister is not a nut job. She’s smart, has a professional job and I love her dearly. We do have different temperaments, which is just how things roll in families. Kathy was always more active than I ever was in the feminista department and I’m guessing this has something to do with her Wiccan thing. When I was thirteen years old my sister admonished me for getting my ears pierced, calling it a desecration of my body. I tried to point out that adornment was a time- honored practice. I forget what her retort was but probably something about dangling bling just to attract a husband. She lost all credibility with pre-pubescent me, by the abomination of not shaving her legs and not wearing a bra. The later I couldn’t wait to wear, as I prayed for something to fill it.
She grabbed onto the revolution early and never let go. Good for her. My sister does all the plumbing and electric repairs in her and her husband’s household. Builds bookshelves and jury-rigs anything that needs fixing. In comparison, while pathetic, I’m pretty pleased with myself that I can jump start a car and dispose of the dead mice from those icky traps.
Anyway, who knows what leads one or specifically my sister to become a witch. I do wonder what the Witch Manifesto is. Clearly there has to be more to this than just another chapter of NOW. Taking a stab I would say astronomy and lunar goddesses and female deities are in the cauldron, along with a pinch of paganism. Of course I could just ask my sister. Or not. But I’m thinking maybe at Thanksgiving I’ll give it a go.
“Hey, Kath, could you pass the toe of frog? I mean the green bean casserole. Thanks. And hey, quick question…what’s up with the witch thing?”
I’ve got a month or so to work on my approach.
Be well and be kind.
Susan
