Pyewacket

Every witch should have a familiar, and Pyewacket was mine. This special lady shared my life for about 5 years before being killed by an asshole speeding on a residential street. I admit to sharing the blame in that, because I allowed her to be an indoor/outdoor cat instead of following common sense and restricting her to indoor life only.

Pyewacket came into my life one evening when Don and I went to see a friend who's cat had just had a litter of kittens. Since I was friendly with the queen, I wanted to see what she had brought into the world - the mother was solid black, and from the looks of the litter, she had found a Siamese to breed with, because of 8 kittens, 7 had the markings of a Sealpoint siamese, and only one was different - a black and white "cow" kitty.
As I was looking at the litter, I suddenly heard a little voice in my head say "Daddy" - and as soon as I heard that, the first words out of my mouth were "Awww shit, I've been picked" - believe me, adding another cat to my existing menagerie was the last thing on my mind at the time, however when something like this happens, there really is no choice.
Some 6 weeks later, while Don was out of town visiting relatives, she arrived at the house along with one of her littermates, who ostensibly was just visiting until I could get her to a friend's house in Griffin, Georgia. At this point, my menagerie of two dogs and two cats became a zoo.

A quick word of advice here for anyone contemplating "temporarily" boarding a cat for a friend - don't do it unless you're planning on keeping the cat. Inevitably, something happens and they can't take the cat and your household just increased by one permanent house guest.

Anyway, back to the subject at hand - Pyewacket - I chose this name for a couple of reasons - first, I loved the name - I first came across it in my teens, while doing research for a term paper on witchcraft in the 1600's; in a reproduction of a woodcut from that time, the scene showed Matthew Hopkins questioning two accused witches, having them name their familiars - the name was also used in a classic film "Bell, Book & Candle", starring Kim Novak, Jimmy Stewart, Elsa Lancaster, Jack Lemmon and other screen notables, as Kim Novak's familiar. Second, what better name for a familiar than Pyewacket?
She and I bonded from the start - this was evidenced by a number of things, mainly the fact that I could and did speak to her as you would a human, and she understood me.
When I moved from an apartment into a rental house and she became indoor/outdoor, this became more and more evident - at the time, I was working third shift and didn't have a car - I came home one morning and had forgotten to stop off and get cat food.
Normally, not a big issue, however apparently Pye was hungry and was rather adamant about letting me know this. I looked at her and said "Pye, Daddy's tired and just wants a nap for a little bit - I promise I'll go get food after I wake up - is that okay?"
Apparently, it wasn't, because she kept on meowing, insisting that she was hungry and wanted her food *NOW*. I got frustrated, and said to her "look, if you're that damn hungry, go out and catch something" and opened the back door - she proceeded to march out the back, tail held high...and about 3 steps from the back door, went immediately into a hunter's crouch, turned her head back to shoot a withering glare at me, went back to the crouch, and then within seconds, nabbed a bird.
My only reaction to that scene was to say to her "Baby girl, if I'd known you were really that hungry, I'd have gone to the store".
Another time, she brought home a dead garter snake for a present - I looked at her and said "Sweetie, Daddy appreciates the present, but I have no use for a dead snake - if you're going to bring me a snake, it should be alive" - well, the very next day she presented me with, you guessed it, a live garter snake. I ended up keeping the snake until it was well (there were puncture marks from her teeth) and released it back into the wild.
These are only two anecdotes from my life with her - there are a score of others, however I think these two best illustrate why I say she was special.

Ravenwood Church and Seminary of Wicca

Ravenwood.
(Please note, I also refer to it as "Witch School" or "Wicca U" or a number of other names, and I'm allowed. You're not.)
The very first "public" coven in America, and indeed the first in a number of other areas as well. At the time, located at 522 Moreland Avenue, for a number of years of my life it was the hub of my spiritual quest.
Lady Sintana was the driving force behind Ravenwood - at first, she really didn't know what to do with me - but as time went on, she saw me for the son I was, and the colleague I became.

There have been a lot of things said about Ravenwood over the years, and while I wasn't there when it opened its doors in 1976, I did start there in 1978 and was an active participant and occasional resident until approximately 1983 - so I am Ravenwood history, not to mention privvy to the truth behind some Ravenwood mythology, because I was there.

The house itself was and is a Victorian, currently in private hands. It began its life as Ravenwood in 1975/76, ostensibly as a retreat for Lady Circe, (Sintana's High Priestess) who at the time was living in Ohio and in search of warmer climes in order to "retire" (something that never happened). Sintana, who had been active on the burlesque circuit (this is one of the myths that tends to get glossed over, although anyone with Internet access can verify this) retired from the circuit and came down to Atlanta to open Ravenwood.

The house itself was a wreck when Sintana came down and she was forced to live in a hotel for a few weeks while it underwent an emergency renovation to become habitable. During this time, it was discovered that the house was haunted. Strange sounds and a sense of terror drove off many a volunteer during the early days of renovations, until one day Sintana (in her own words), had enough and drove out to the property to as she put it, "put that spook in its place". She never discussed exactly what she did, but the spook quieted down and enough renovations were done that she was able to move in and begin the process of opening Ravenwood.

Shortly after opening Ravenwood, Lady Circe came down for an extended visit, and the spook, which had been quiet for a while, came back with a roar. One of it's favorite tricks was to literally bounce the chair that Lady Circe was sitting in - more than one student at the time relayed how Circe and the spook would battle for supremacy - the spook banging on the floor directly below Circe and Lady Circe answering back with her cane - BOOM BOOM BOOM - then Lady Circe had an epiphany, that the reason the spook was so active was that it was lonely - and the easiest way to appease it would be to use the toilet in the basement.

Now, when someone says the toilet in the basement, you naturally assume that it's at least a finished half bath - that was not the case here. What we're talking about was quite literally, a toilet in the middle of an unfinished basement. And so, every morning while Lady Circe was in residence, she would go down into the basement for her morning toilet. And the spook quieted down again. Sintana later explained that her thoughts on the matter were that Circe was a very private person, and she couldn't bring herself to share a toilet with the other members of the house; that was why she did her toilet in the basement, as it afforded her some privacy.

I lived for a while at Ravenwood, taking classes and frankly, preparing for a role as a Priest of the religion. During this time, you wouldn't believe the stories I heard and the things I saw. Hence, my calling it "Wicca U." - Yeah, I'll admit that "Wicca", specifically Gardenarian Wicca, is a product of the 1930's rather than a millenia old "Old Religion", however the archetypal concepts themselves are indeed millenia old, and Universally valid. So, that makes me a Witch.

Back to Sintana - she knew how to work publicity, such as the stunts, for example, the time they "blessed" the Braves (who went on to a winning streak) - so Ravenwood became a known presence in the community. This was in the mid to late 70's, right after Ravenwood opened.

Now, she had a purpose, and it was the legal recognition of Wicca as a valid tax free religion, an achievement that was successfully realized in the early 1980's.

Fourth Wall

I can't believe how therapeutic this is turning out to be.
If you're reading this blog, please comment - it'll help me dredge up more.

I'm doing this as a present for my best friend's daughter's as of right now unborn child - she who I call my Grand-Niece. I figure by the time she's old enough to understand this blog, I'll be dead and I want her to know why her Uncle Alden was such a wack job.
But a *fun* wack job.

Addendum

Okay - the promised addendum to the post about my father's death.

The year is 2004, and Sheba & De Wabbit are living in Tennessee - but De Wabbit's work is talking about moving him down to Atlanta again - and so Sheba's looking for living space, and I'm helping - she likes the 85/N Druid Hills/Clairmont/Buford Hwy area, and since 1) I'm currently living on Buford Hwy, 2) I grew up in this area and know the apartment complexes like the back of my hand, 3) happen to be doing the computer work for one of the main management companies on Buford Hwy, I am the resident expert.
For grins and giggles, I take her over to the apartment complex I grew up in - they'd recently undergone a multi-million dollar renovation, and I was honestly curious as to what they'd done and what they were charging, given that the apartments had some of the largest square footage available in the area.
So we go and talk to the resident manager - she was happy to show off the office as the 2br small model, and we also looked at what they called the 2 br large - I wanted to show Sheba the 3 br, since I thought it would more easily accomodate the Sheba and Wabbit Show.
It turned out that the only 3 available *happened* to be the apartment I grew up in.
I mentioned that to the agent, and she asked me if I knew anything about an old Jewish man who was haunting their apartment.
The layout of the buildings happened to put her apartment back to back with my old apartment, and then she went on to tell what was happening - her roommate would dream of an old Jewish man, and when they left Jewish items, such as a prayer book, or some other Jewish memorabilia out, he would be relatively quiet/inactive, and that he had a bad habit of turning the air conditioner on.
The last part told me beyond a shadow of a doubt, that was my father's spirit.

You see, my father was ... not to put too fine a point on it, sexually frustrated by my mother, and because he was a High School teacher, sought visual stimulation from the young girls in his classes - he was a notorious "pencil dropper" - for those of you unfamiliar with the term or concept, it goes something like this - you're at the podium giving your lecture to the class. You're gesturing with your pencil/pen, and you drop it, conveniently near a pretty girl in a short skirt. When you lean down to pick it up, you hope for a flash.

So, hearing about the a/c trick confirmed for me immediately that this was some remnant of my father's personality - I told the leasing agent that the best thing she could do when he got active would be to read the Mourner's Kaddish, in phonetic Hebrew if she couldn't read the real thing, but that would help him to move on.

And for those of you who wonder what the a/c has to do with pencil dropping, let me say that the manager's apartment was occupied by three young women in their early 20's and leave it at that.

Since that time, the complex was sold again, however this time it was razed to the ground, and townhouses have gone up in their place -

Au revoir, Egg Chair

Well, I did it. The Egg Chair is now on its way to Washington D.C. and the townhouse of one of my best friends, Steve. And I have managed to make 3 people very happy in the process.
First and foremost, Steve...who has wanted this chair ever since he first saw it in my living room some 15 years ago. It is, as of this writing, in a cargo van headed to DC.
Next, my best friend Don - really my brother - he has hated that chair ever since I first acquired it at a yard sale for $26 some 15 years ago. This was a popular item in the 1960's, a stereo chair - surroundsound if you will - but it only hooked up to a stereo receiver. And it looked like the egg from Mork and Mindy, which is why we called it "the Egg Chair".
And then there's my sister Sheba - she who has been long encouraging me to downsize - well, this was a major downsize - as I told her after it happened, it was almost like having to surrender a child.
I have toted that thing around with me these 15 years, and until this move it always had a place.
Even after I replaced the Lego set entertainment center, I still didn't have enough room to bring it in off the patio. So Steve got it, and I'm going to miss it.
Au revoir, Egg Chair.

Quick note to Don - no matter what, the velvet Elvis stays.

Another sitting Shiva story, this one with a spook attached

So now, we skip ahead to 1990 - my father's been diagnosed with cancer, and my parents have convinced me to move into a one bedroom apartment in their complex, mainly by guilting me into agreeing.
Well, the inevitable happened, and my father died one morning in his bed. I was wakened by my mother pounding on my door and ringing my bell to get me to come and see what was happening to my father - for some reason, their phone line was out due to a screwup on Bell South's part and they had no phone - I got there, saw my father was in the middle of a seizure, and immediately flew to the upstairs neighbor to ask to borrow the phone to call 911.
The ambulance came, but did no good, and so the funeral home had to be called and arrangements made. They sent a hearse over, and after they removed the body I went home to change into something more appropriate. I had 2 cats at the time, Luciano and TJ - they were indoor/outdoor, as the apartment complex was quite large and there were expansive woods nearby.
Well, I got home and both were at the door wanting to come in. Then I opened the door, and neither would set foot inside - this next statement is going to sound so off the wall I'm almost ashamed to type it, however it's what I did, so here goes - I put myself into a light state of trance to see what the issue was, and found my father's spook (yeah, I know it's not the PC term) hovering near me, trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened.
My next actions may seem heartless to some, however I saw them as the required thing to do - I immediately told him that he had died, that he needed to go into the Light - this apparently didn't do anything for him, as I had to resort to stronger measures. I consecrated some salt and water, and Banished him from the apartment, telling him to go to the Light - apparently that worked, because he was then gone. And the cats came in the apartment immediately afterward.

That ends the spook part of this post - however there is an addendum to this tale that I'll post later.

So, we're sitting Shiva for my father - and I'm on my best behavior because I have an ounce of some sweet marijuana in my apartment, because when the relatives get on my last nerve, I go to my apartment and fire up a quick one. And my nerves improve.
Well, add to the cast of characters, my cousin's fiance - Laurie, who's major claim to fame is the fact that she's the Service Merchandise heiress. Ultra nouveau riche, speaks with an affected Bryn Mahr accent, and so plastic she'd melt in a high heat. Needless to say, I wasn't impressed by her when I met her, and didn't worship the ground she walked on like the rest of the relatives did simply because of her bank balance.
Well, Laurie came in with her future MIL, my Aunt Patty - and she brings this humongous deli platter - (Jews, like Southerners, believe in food as therapy for mourners) - cold cuts, cheeses, garnishes, the works - and I see this as my opportunity to leave. And I do, planning on coming back after some self medication.
I come back, and I find my mother sitting at the kitchen table, and Laurie trying to say how things are going to be, for example how my mother should be put into a home, they need to downsize the apartment, etc etc.
And I immediately fired this off - "Excuse me - you're not even a member of this family yet - and when you do become a member of this family, it's going to be by marriage not blood. And no, I don't give a shit what your bank balance is, trash is trash. Now get the fuck out of my face!" - this caused her to storm off, and my Aunt to go running after her. I never found out what got said, but that was the last time I ever saw Laurie again, even though she married my cousin.
There was one occasion about a year later, where we were supposed to have dinner with my Aunt, my cousin, Laurie and my mother, and I had planned on being saccharine sweet, saying "Laurie, have you put on weight?? Oh my God, you're pregnant, aren't you? Come on, tell me... you are, aren't you?" ... however that dinner got cancelled because she actually was pregnant.

Shiva and the Gossipy Aunt

So it's after my sister's funeral, and my parents are sitting Shiva at their apartment. All of my mother's family and extended family are in attendance, and mysteriously none of my father's family are present.
I didn't find out the reason for that until a few years later - my father's sister was in California, and so was legitimately excused, however my father's brother lived in Indiana, and indeed when he was called to inform him of the tragedy, wanted find out the funeral arrangements, however was told not to come by my mother.
So there I am, sitting next to my mother, surrounded by my mother's extended family, trying to ignore what she'd said only days before, and tell her that Jolene's in a better place now - she's with God. Your basic spiritual pablum, when there's nothing else you can say -
And my Aunt Babe heard me telling her this - and proceeded to gather the women into the kitchen. When she got there, she immediately started in on how I was trying to console my mother, saying "can you believe what he's telling her?" and things of that nature -

I politely excused myself from my mother's side, stood up and went into the kitchen.

I *slammed* my hand down on the kitchen table and looked Babe right in the eye as I said: "Excuse me...this is a time of great grief and mourning for myself and my family and I would appreciate it if you would take your hen party elsewhere!"
At that moment, Lord Colin snapped his fingers, called my name and managed to get me out of there before anything else was said. I found out later that when she tried to complain about what I had said and done that her brother-in-law told her "to shut up because I was completely right".

This really didn't sit too well with Babe. Our relationship was never the same afterwards, and she took great pains to make sure my life was a living hell whenever it crossed her path.
For example, I used to march in the Gay Pride Parade every year - well, over the years the parade path has changed, along with other features - however this was back when the march was honestly political and not economic. 'Nuff said about that.

So the parade path this particular year is down Peachtree Street to the steps of the Capital - and I'm marching along with everyone else, and while I can't remember how it happened, somehow I ended up on one of the parade cars, a Cadillac convertible, with a female impersonator named Mickey Day.
So we're riding along, having a great time, and I happen to look at the buildings we're passing...it so happens that my Uncle Milt had an optometry shop, on Peachtree at Little 5 Points, conveniently right along the parade route - Uncle Milt, however, had died some 10 years ago, leaving the shop to his wife, who is, you guessed it, Aunt Babe.
I look out over the crowd, and who do I see in the window of said shop? Aunt Babe.
Who has a phone glued to her ear? Aunt Babe.

Fast forward to my getting home - I've moved back in with the parents, as this is within 2 months of the accident. I get home, and the first thing my mother greets me with is "your Aunt Patty called and wanted to know why you were marching in the Gay Pride parade! What am I supposed to tell her?" I looked at her like she was crazy and said "that's funny, Aunt Babe was the one who saw me from the window of the shop - but Aunt Patty was the one who called? Tell her the truth! I'm gay!"
My mother immediately shot that down, saying "I can't tell her that!" - so I told her to say that I was "marching for Human Rights" ... something she apparently found acceptable, because she flew to the phone to call Aunt Patty and tell her this.
Needless to say, I avoided alone time with her after this - but family gatherings did tend to be ... interesting to say the least.