St. James Episcopal Church

"WANTON GIRL",  5" x 2 1/2" x 1", 2004, ceramic

"WANTON GIRL", 5" x 2 1/2" x 1", 2004, ceramic


I have always sort of had a longing to be either Jewish,  Black or Native American.

I am pure WASP and went to St. James Episcopal Church until I was confirmed at around 13 years old.

Someone once called Episcopalians the FROZEN PEOPLE.

I’d have to agree.

My sister married this incredibly fabulous Jewish man.  They are so great together.

She had to make her voice change from soft and diminutive to something with more guts or else she found herself rendered invisible in his family.

The Jews in my life are unapologetic.   They live large as a rule and take up space so much differently than us WASPS.  While we give attention to grace,  shoulds and don’ts..  they are dripping watermelon juice down their chin and scribbling a concerto on a napkin.  Now, which of those sounds like more fun?

Black people seem to have a very different center of gravity than whites.

Theirs feels lower to the ground and farther away from the head where we insist on residing.

I think they know the intelligence of the Earth better that we white folk.

Could be my story,  though..

So be it.

I am bored with my mind these days.

Native people have a hard time with me because I insist on ingratiating myself all over the place.  I like to ‘connect’. They look at me with a gorgeously natural set to their face instead of a smile and there usually is the slight scent of pity coming in my direction.

I believe  they think we whites are quite mad;  the chronic QUEST for WHAT?

Don’t get me wrong…  I am thrilled with the precious existence I have been gifted with and take none of it for granted.   I love my curiosity, personally..

But I notice where my body HOLDS and just won’t let go.

Where it performs instead of  just enjoying the play.

It is this Episcopal safety zone that I took on that comes from turtleneck-loving women and corporate men who turned their juice in for big bucks and accolades for being a good provider.

Do I sound bitter?  Well,  it felt good for a minute but really,  now I’m just interested in living a life in a body tuned to a different vibe.

It HAS GOT to be tuned differently because some of the strings done broke…

As I carve away all the extraneous stuff of life that doesn’t support a finely tuned instrument,  I sense a life-long numbness giving way to some kind of glittery thing.  I am beginning to make a beautiful noise.

I keep getting a little bit closer each day so I know I’m following the right crumbs through the forest.

If you see me someday on a park bench with watermelon juice dripping down my neatly starched white linen blouse and a slightly manic smile on my face,  please don’t hand me a napkin….


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