At the Gager picnic we used to serve snapper soup. This is our Jersey Pines tradition. My cousin Russell catches a big old snapper in the swamp months before the picnic. The unlucky old turtle sits under the cement mixing bin until Ray finally takes an axe and cuts his head off. He still can bite you hard with his head cut off so you better not mess around with him because he is serious with his jaws of steel that don’t let go. Uncle Bill makes the soup over a gas burner on the carport with potatoes and carrots. Our brave old turtle soldier then gets his shell hung on the side of the garage for all time.
Basically it seems our whole world is starting to narrow itself down to a big stainless steel pot of snapper soup. Tradition. You can either handle the idea that change is upon us or you can’t. And religious people and powerful people and very, very rich people and angry people and apathetic people don’t want change.
But oh my, we are thrilled at the prospect. We’ll have Gager picnics again. And I bet we’ll serve vegetarian snapper soup. And maybe we’ll add onions and collards and sweet potatoes and chick peas and canned tomatoes.
We are privileged to be a part of this revolution because Santa is so beautiful and kind and so are we, Santa’s helpers. But we have earned it, too. So let’s just keep doing our work and watch what happens. We have plenty of traditions we wish to share as a tribe. I have new ones coming for you, as you can tell. We’ll be busy at Easter and Thanksgiving and Solstice and Christmas and New Year’s. Then we will see what else we do.
We have a shared grace. And our faith is in goodness. Others have a faith in sin and disease and power and money and greed. Let’s see what happens next with the Goddess. Our moon and our earth know about snapper turtles, and they also know how to make a delicious pot of vegetable soup.