Monday, June 1, 2020

Strange Associations

     Well, perhaps this one isn’t so strange, after all.

     For some time I’ve been straining to get the Rosary back into my prayer life. Given the obvious need to pray for the nation in this time, I’ve managed to do so, at least tentatively. But just this morning, the evil little dwarf that manages the “Goose Fran when he least expects it” function of my hindbrain decided that right in the middle of Joyful Mysteries was the perfect time to start me laughing hysterically. In service to that mission, he tossed this recollection up at me:

     She'd been strangled with a rosary--not a run-of-the-mill rosary like you might get at a Catholic bookstore where Hail Marys are two for a quarter and indulgences are included on the back flap of the May issue of "Nuns and Roses" magazine, but a fancy heirloom rosary with pearls, rubies, and a solid gold cross, a rosary with attitude, the kind of rosary that said, "Get your Jehovah's Witness butt off my front porch."

     From the 2007 Bulwer-Lytton Contest, of course. Where else?



Coming back from Israel last summer, in the last-gasp-fleece-the-tourist stores in the airport, I found a very nice rosary with water from the Jordan river in a little vial. I knew precisely which friend I wanted to send it to.

A few days after I mailed it I got a call from him. He'd been needing a new rosary and this came perfectly timed.

Dystopic said...

I am still... well, learning, I suppose. But I picked up a very nice rosary when I was in Italy last year, with excellent Venetian glass beads. I imagine it says likewise.