Duncan and I were forced into Bush country today, for my regular 10-week haircut in Kennebunkport. On the way home we pulled in to the K’port Library to visit its Used-Book House, a little 18th-century white-clapboard house tucked behind the main library, and stuffed with old books for sale.
At the door a sign glared at me: “STOP,” it said. “Please wipe ALL gravel off shoes. Thank you.” With great guilt I glanced at my tennis shoes, brimming with gravel, which I had planned to carry inside without a thought to wiping.
As usual, the Book House was deserted. The K’port librarians possess full faith in the human race, confident we will all, without fail, transport our books across the yard to the Library proper and pay for them there.
Today I discovered something odd in the Book House: “The Holy Book of Women’s Mysteries,” by Z. Budapest. This is odd because I go to dozens of book sales annually but rarely see Z’s books. Also, I posted about Z only 8 days ago. Finally, today is a highly favorable day: a Full-Moon Friday the 13th.
The upshot is, I suspect there’s something in Z’s book I’m supposed to share. I’m not sure what, but I pinpointed the following (although sorely tempted to choose Z’s Inquisition torture tales, in honor of the Alito hearings, I decided against this):
"The original sin was matricide,” says Z. “The toppling of the matriarchies and the rape and murder of the mothers was, and still is, the greatest of all sins. No purging of our culture has occurred since the Inquisition, no purging or public accounting for the sins of the ‘fathers.’… Matricide is punishable by eternal unhappiness and the Goddess pays in different ways. We don’t have a heaven and/or hell someplace ‘out there’; we create both right here where we live."That’s it. As Duncan and I drew onto Route 95 heading north for home, the car clock read 4:23 pm. Car headlights were on, and the full moon hung like a lemon lozenge, low in a china-blue sky.
Duncan was content. It was a two-biscuit day – twice, toll-booth attendants treated him to king-sized dog biscuits and fussed over him while traffic behind us waited.
Dock-Square, Kennebunkport Village