When my good friend David put out a
call for guest posts for his blog, I was happy to volunteer a post (so long as
I could recycle an old one because, as all my friends and relations know, I’m
lazy). I asked David if he had any particular theme in mind (so I could quickly
sift through all my old posts because, actually, I’m super lazy), and he expressed an interest in something “…where the
normal moves into that gray area of paranormal.”
I’m all about the abnormal. Uh, I
mean, paranormal. Well, supernatural
is my preferred term, but you catch my drift. So I thought I’d dredge up
something I’d already recycled but, hey, I really dig this one and it’s got an
adorable pic of me from when I was a baby, so win-win!
Thus, here’s a snippet from an older
blog post of mine titled Shooting at the Devil. (You can see how this would be
about me as a baby,
naturally.) I opened the post referencing Penelope Crowe's post
about possession (a
thoroughly creepy, and terribly sad, read), then segued into my Great Uncle,
Tio Nuno (TEE-oo NOO-noo)* who was rumored to be a witch/mystic/alcoholic (may
God rest him and hold him close), who proposed a curious cure for whatever
ailed me when my parents took my baby-self on a visit to their homeland,
Portugal. If you'd like to read the full (long!) post, you can check it out here.
Mom and Pop brought me over from the
States when I was a wee one so the family could meet their first born.
Apparently, I gave them a bit of trouble - I stayed up crying the first nights
they were in Portugal, growing cold and clammy from getting so worked up.
Nothing they tried soothed me. I hadn't been colicky or anything up till then,
so there was no reason they could discern for my fussing. They took me to a
local doc who assured them that I was medically fine. So my Mom put it down to
me feeling out of sorts from being in an unfamiliar environment. Or, you know,
the evil eye (I dig that she didn't rule anything out). Shortly after the doc
visit, Tio Nuno stopped by my paternal grandmother's house and my Avó told him about my peculiar spells.
Because my Grandma's husband had recently passed away, she wondered if he might
somehow be "visiting" me and generally freaking me out. Tio Nuno
thought there might be a larger problem and asked her if any of my clothes or
belongings were lying around. She found something of mine and brought it to
him, which he examined carefully. After a while he told her that someone in the
family wished me ill, but he wouldn't specify who (the big tease). He gave her
the following instructions to pass on to my parents:
- Make the baby a wreath of garlic and sprinkle her with holy water.
- Make a bonfire and toss into it some rosemary, rue, and eucalyptus.
- Pass the baby through the smoke of this fire and pray to some saints (which specific ones is lost in the mists of time).
When my Mom heard all this from my
Grandma she nodded politely but privately thought there was no friggin' way she
was going to pass me over a bonfire (the Portuguese equivalent of this thought,
obviously). Instead, when she went to put me to sleep that night, she laid me
on my back and prayed the Apostles Creed over me three times, all the while
making the Sign of the Cross over me, asking God to liberate me
from whatever ailed me. And, according to her, from then on, I did get better.
I have to admit, I'm disappointed
that she didn't try the bonfire thing. Also, I think I'd look pretty smashing
in a garlic wreath (kickin' it old-school!). But seriously, I'm proud of my Mom
for turning to her faith during this peculiar phase in our lives...I hope I'll
always turn to God, in good times and in bad. Still, I'd love to know who hit
me with the bad juju, so I could avenge myself (and my
parents) by TPing her house.
*Nuno was not his real name, but
it is a common - and unique - Portuguese name, for an uncommon man!
That is sooooo cool. I always wished my family was more 'old country Italian', b/c I'm very drawn to stregheria. But unfortunately they adopted all-things American upon arriving. Believed in god and were Catholics, but not strict at all and didn't go to Mass that often.
ReplyDeletehaha! we have such superstitions in the philippines too, not that i've ever gone through any of them. :]
ReplyDeletedavid, i'll email you my post soon.
Although I was born, brought up and educated in London, with a British father, my mother was Greek. After my father left my Mum when I was twelve, she got back into some of her Greek ways us kids found embarrassing. She would hang a string of garlic behind the front door to keep the demons at bay! Lol........
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing the comical side with some absurd traditions! :)
I think your Mom did the right thing. A blessing said three times is always better than smoke in the lungs of a wee one.
ReplyDeleteGreat post, as I missed the original!
For whatever reason, I'm glad you got better. I think I would have followed a similar path to what your Mom did too.
ReplyDeleteThanks for checking out my story, y'all. I admit, I do wonder if the course of my life would've run differently, had they done the bonfire whatsit...Meanwhile, I'm not above putting out a bowl-full of garlic on my desk at work, to keep the baddies away. It mostly works. Mostly. ;-)
ReplyDeleteSome Dark Romantic
It's a great story - thanks for sending over Mina - thanks everyone..
ReplyDelete