SOLD: Beautiful Happyzine

 I remember the smell of her – sunlight soap and sunscreen, apricot oil and china paint. She wore a pink spotted floppy hat as she gardened and the skin on the back of hands was mottled and paper thin. Once when I counted dozens of warts on my right hand, she cast a spell on them to make them go away. She charged me four cents. She made her other wise normal husband dress up as her (his) Indian wife (in the days when we called Native American ‘Indian’). She taught me to draw – saying there are no straight lines in real art. The really exciting thing that I loved about her was her magic. She was a water diviner. It defied my sense of logic, it amazed me. She, a well to do elderly lady, would pick up a willow stick and it would pull her south, towards unseen currents.  Sometimes the force was so strong she would shriek and trip. I will always cherish my Grandmother Marjorie Joyce Kingsland. Here’s a song I wrote about her:

Marjorie

Verse one:

Woman of joy

Marjorie

You brought the magic to me

Chorus

In a bright sea blown place

In a quiet, sunny space

and I want you to know …

I love you

And I always will

You brought the magic to me

And I got my fill

And I got my fill,

I love you Marjorie.

Verse two

She with the healing hands

hidden beneath

You helped me let go of straight

Chorus

In a bright sea blown place

In a quiet, sunny space

and I want you to know …

I love you

And I always will

You brought the magic to me

And I got my fill

And I got my fill,

I love you Marjorie.

Verse three

Willow stick

Drawn to the earth

you unraveled logic

Chorus

In a bright sea blown place

In a quiet, sunny space

and I want you to know …

I love you

And I always will

You brought the magic to me

And I got my fill

And I got my fill,

I love you Marjorie.

Tags: gratitude, he tangata, love, people, thanks