Oh Mary, We Crown Thee with Blossoms Today

A crown of another kind: Figgy made this ring of flowers in February and wears it fairly often. My Italian grandmother, Rosie, did piecework using fake flowers.

That post title is part of a song we sang during the May Procession at Saint Mary's when I was a girl. Eighth grade was the pinnacle. On a warm, fertile spring night in 1975, we slipped out of our school uniforms [navy and white plaid pleated skirt; short-sleeved white cotton blouse with collar; navy blue vest; and navy blue knee socks], zipped ourselves into beautiful pastel or white dresses, wriggled into L'eggs suntan pantyhose and fixed our hair--as though we were going to a dance, except we weren't. I can still remember climbing carefully up the church steps in a pale blue dress that had been Sis's, hoping those clinging pantyhose wouldn't run.

One lucky eighth grader* got to place a crown of fresh flowers on the Blessed Mother statue in church while the rest of us--her court, as it were--lined up in the aisle, each holding a giant mum [I think it was yellow or white, and I loved burying my nose in the petals and inhaling the fragrance] at the end of a highly polished pew, and sang. We all later filed forward and put the blooms in vases near Mary.

Today when I went to Saint Cassian's, the Mary statue looked new and different to me. I don't know, maybe it's not, but for some reason, Mary's hair looked longer, her skin a little more cocoa-colored. Her image was still peaceful, tranquil, graceful and beautiful. Womanly, feminine, kind. Someone you could trust and pray to. Someone my mother and her mother prayed to. But did she have a new hairdo, a bit more tousled and flowing? A touch of bronzing powder? I hope it's not sacrilegious to write that. [You see, Catholic rules and fears run deep.]

My trip to Mass was more meaningful for having seen Mary today. And as I got my Communion wafer, I turned to take a quick look at her bare feet. Yes, I think I saw the Devil there--the snake at her feet, the villain conquered by virtue. When we were girls, someone gave Sis a Blessed Mother statue and it was in our room. I was always fascinated and scared by the serpent at her feet. But perhaps I learned a larger lesson--that it was a serene woman in a male-dominated hierarchy who had kept bad will at bay.

Good night.

*When it was our year, our priest in long black cassock gathered us all in a classroom one afternoon and picked the name out of a hat. The lucky girl in our group was Donna Maione, who later became a fashion designer in NYC and later still, had twins.

TCOY

1. Support group, and long talk with supportive friend who has been down this road before.
2. Mass at Saint Cassian's [see Mary sighting, above].
3. Long walk with Sug to Iris Gardens.
4. Planted my petunias.
5. Made healthy dinner--salmon, sauteed baby spinach, brown rice.