So. Confession. And this would make my grandmother’s sweet fuzzy gray head spin ’round in circles. But… I might be a bit of a pagan. I’m not sure yet; the jury is still out. I think most of the flavors of institutionalized religion are not for me. Christianity might be the most problematic for me, personally, because I think it puts that whole concept of being kind and good to others on a reward system. That reward being Heaven. And anyone who has raised kids knows that dangling rewards for being good and kind to others? That only works up until about age 5.
As a matter of fact, the only time I consider being a Christian and believing in a place like Heaven is when I think about my grandmother. Because she would be running the place.
She would be de-cluttering the waiting room. Ironing the curtains. Polishing the gates. She would be serving root beer floats with real damn vanilla ice cream. The stuff with the flecks of vanilla beans in it. Nana’s Root Beer Heavenly Floats would be served in tall glasses whose only purpose in existence would be to serve as root beer float glasses. Each float would be a work of art, featuring a sublime foam-to-soda ratio, and would, of course, be served with the perfect bendy straw.
Happy Birthday, Virginia Reynolds Marston (1913-2010)