GYPSY TREASURE

It's always a good day when one finds the

Ohmygod! score!

Vintage Gypsy Doll

Isn't she beautiful?

I love her and promise to give her a very good home!

SEE THE ART

So, here is the very first piece in my search for the Black Madonna.

Black Madonna

$1.99 at the thrift store.

Of course, it isn't the Black Madonna, and I have a feeling it will be a long search.

That sort of treasure doesn't just sit around the thrift store waiting to be found.

But, I think she's quite beautiful and I shall proudly display her.

(I know I could go online and all but my rule is I must stumble upon it. )  ;)

It has taken me a lifetime to make myself notice religious artifacts of this nature.

It feels good to finally open my mind..... and See the Art..........

It feels really good.

SELF PORTRAIT

Self Portrait:  CAUTION

Mimi Foxmorton September 17, 2012

The Black Madonna

In Southern Provençal tradition, the Black Madonna is associated with St. Sara, the patron saint of the Gypsies. She was said to be the black assistant who accompanied the three Marys to France when they fled from the Holy Land after the Crucifixion. In local gypsy tradition, she is said to have been a gypsy (some say 'Egyptian') woman who helped them to land safely. A cult of St. Sara persists today at Les Saintes Maries de la Mer, one of the earliest Magdalene sites in France.

******************

I've become quite taken recently with the Black Madonna, since having read the most excellent

AND THE VIOLINS STOPPED PLAYING

by Alexander Ramati.

In sooth, I am quite pagan in spirit, thought, word and deed and, if truth be know, shy away from

things such as the Madonna, having spent horrific years in Catholic school as a child and subsequently growing up in a world where time and again so called religious persons displayed behaviors toward myself and others that curdled my inner being.

It isn't as though I don't *like* Jesus.

I like him well.

But from my first memory in kindergarten of being slapped until I pee'd my pants because I couldn't tell a story about a picture of the Baby Jesus-my wee mind went so blank I can still recall the absolute terror to this day-(though funny how I grew up to be a storyteller.....go figure...) to adult encounters with those who would wish to *convert* me at all costs-I just run at the mention of God and the Heavens.

With that said, (and those are *my* trials and tribulations to overcome)

as I grow older I find that I am realizing I, without fail, for years have automatically closed my mind to anything even remotely religious in nature.  Mention religion and I stop listening.

Now really, Mimi, how fair is that?

And now, Ramati's most wonderful book brought to light for me a people who struggled through persecution, never losing the firm grasp on their culture or their beliefs.  I was in awe of their fortitude.

So......

Perhaps it's time I opened my mind and did a wee bit of exploring.

A closed mind is a terrible thing......no matter the direction.

Right, Mimi?

And perhaps one day, I'll tell that story about the Baby Jesus..........

I look forward to exploring this history.

Thanks for sharing with me.

xoxo

I'M A GYPSY!

Yes.  Yes, I am!

;)

Best Gypsy Song Ever from Hunchback!

LITTLE FOX RIDING HOOD

LITTLE FOX RIDING HOOD

A Short Fairytale
by Mimi Foxmorton  2012

Oh, she knew a wolf when she saw one.

And when Grandma closed her Great Big Eyes

and went the way of the lit Forest Path,

Little Fox found, hoarded, the untidy heaps of

unopened jams she had so mindfully carried

through the woods all those years.

~The End~

LITTLE RED

by Fox '13

"You grin and show me

the empty path you cut

through the dense woods.

From either side

green leaves beckon

offering false safety.

My old red cape drags behind me 

as I journey to the end

wondering when the wolf will appear.

******************

Linked to the lovely
Imaginary Garden with Real Toads
creative writing site.
Open Link Monday
Please check them out!
You'll be glad you did!

The Child Has No Property

Well, when all is said and done-all is said and done.

And very little, at that.

Today arrived the pack of papers I have been-avoiding-dreading-guilty about-longing for

for the past 50 plus years.

The adoption papers.

With the house clean out in progress and Mum as barmy as the Mad Hatter most days it seemed time to put my anxiety aside and delve into the truth of the matter.

There was a decent stack, all typed (on a bad typewriter-government, eh?) on onion skin paper with a variety of seals, strings, rusted paper clips and stamps.....the kind of stamps you lick....and waiting for me to know the facts.

What I came away with was hardly reason to be so apprehensive lo' these many years.

Written in German, but with translation papers throughout, they mostly said:

Blah-blah-bladhy-blah First Party-blahdy-bloo-Second Party.....

date-date-date.......sign here.......german-german-german........

and so forth.

No givesey-backseys.

(Let the Buyer Beware!)  ;)

But here's the crux:

I am illegitimate.

(Such a word.  Happy Faerie Mash-up would have been more suitable, don't you think?)

My original name has been changed.  Not just my last name.

(Considering Foxmorton is yet another name change...and then there's Violet and Hatty and BeBe....and...well......

clearly I started the name change game early.  A rose by any other name, eh?)

The child owns no property.

(Clearly they failed to take into account those several acres of gnome woodlands. 

 I hold the deed, it's just invisible is all.  And the pirate booty goes without saying.)

I now know my birth mother's full name.

(Which is kind of scary as she doesn't know mine.  Almost like an invasion of privacy if I were to bandy it about.....which I won't. Remember, this was never about finding my parents.  Simply a burning desire to know my ancestry.  Germany.....castles.....explains much about me.

Which brings us to Nature vs. Nurture...but we can save that for another time.)

Her first name is beautiful...I think.  I'm not sure how to pronounce it.

(None of my real names were hers.  My stomach did the biggest flip upon seeing her name in 

print for the first time.)

I have no father. 

(Nor was there any mention or place on the papers to fill in a father.  But, we all know that

River Pirates consorting with faeries generally don't leave a name.....)

I know my birth mothers partial address at the time of my birth-though no mention of her birth date.

(I would have liked to know how old she was.  Do I have siblings?  I really want to know if I have siblings.)

I know her occupation at the time of her birth.

(Maid.  Which makes for a good Cinderella story I suppose.)

I have no mental defects.

(Bwah-hahahahahah!  We Germans are a funny lot!  Slipped that one right by them, eh?)

And that is all I know.

Funny.

All this time I believed these papers to hold the 

Secret to Foxmorton's Universe.

And they didn't.

And that's ok.

I grew up only knowing that both my parents were German.  My father went to great lengths to be sure some discharged officer from Boise wasn't going to knock on the door when I was 7 and create a ruckus.

(Apparently he figured it would be an inconvenient weekend trip all the way from Germany.)

And now?  Well, now I know a little more.

I'll need to think on this awhile.

This feeling of finally turning a page in my story.

And then I'll let you know what I though.

If anything.

My sincere thanks for sharing this moment with me.

xoxo

love-

~Fox