Howdy, y'all!
Trisha over at WORD + STUFF is hosting the
Baby Faces Blogfest. The rules be:
1. Between December 2nd and 3rd, post a pic of yourself as a baby, and/or;
2. Tell a story about when you were a baby
(You can choose to do one or the other or both.)
On December 2nd, when Trisha posts for her blogiversary, she will be giving away a little prize (your choice of a book she's selected, or some other book, from the Book Depository). More details about that on the day itself.
So, for funsies, I thought I'd present 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, 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.
* * *
 |
| You wanna pass me over a what, now? |
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!
