First, my beginning in the cult called "Freemasonry".
Everyone on both sides of my family, mother and father alike, have been involved in Freemasonry. I am, in every sense of the word, a legacy. I have pictures of my mother, aunt and grandmother at the head table of Masonic dinners. Pictures of my father posing with his apron and the other members of his lodge. My mom belonged not only to The Eastern Star, but also The Rainbow For Girls, The White Shrine and The Amaranth. My father was the upper crust of the Shriners, Masons and Scottish Rite.
Go figure I'd join one day, eh?
Starting at the time that I do believe I started to walk, I attended hundreds of spaghetti dinners, pancake breakfasts, Shriner circuses, craft fairs, you name it, all in the name of making a buck or two for the Masons. That is actually how I learned to cook the way I do. At a young age, I was standing with the other OES women, cooking, cleaning, setting up, serving and catering to the every whim of whatever was the get-together of the day. You knew that you served the Masons with all the dignity and pose one would give the Queen of England. They wanted more food, you gave it to them before they even asked. They need more coffee, you are already there with a hot pot waiting for them. (Please note: the opposite, ie, the men waiting on the women, *never* occurred). And, no matter how many episodes of the "Flintstones" you watched as a child, there was never alcohol at any event. Just saying...
As a Rainbow Girl, starting at age 11, I learned exactly how to properly serve coffee, tea and water to Masonic dignitaries, all while smiling, and speaking as genteel as humanly possible. I also knew exactly how to set up a dinner plate, how much food to put on and how to set it down in front of the person you were serving: meat to the front, veggies at the back, potato on the side, salad at upper right, rolls and butter at upper left. I would have made a fabu waitress. I would spend countless hours on my feet in 4 inch heels, dressed to the nines, shaking hands, accepting and giving compliments, and saying a lot of, "Yes, Grand Master (complete with slight curtsey), I am Murrell Fassett/Gwen Fassett's daughter. Why, yes, I am being elected as Worthy Advisor again for El Paso #4. Thank you, the appointment to a Grand Station was quite a shock for me. Oh, Grand Matron, I am proud of having received the Grand Cross Of Colors."
When I say I was proud, I was P R O U D. I worked my ass off. I memorized entire ritual books...not just a single ritual...the ENTIRE book. Hundred of pages worth of meeting rituals/marriage rituals/funeral rituals/etc. It was what was expected of me. I was raised to be a people-pleaser. They weren't happy, you killed yourself until they were. You learned that, unless you had a man present, you were not allowed or able to do anything on your own...ever...and you accepted it.
Probably explains my resistance to any type of male dominance now, but I digress.
Quite the existence, eh? Well, that is just the outer shell. The synopsis at the back of the book. The shells underneath are even more colorful and fun. Or demented, whichever.
Got ya on the edge of yer seat, don't I lol???
Until we meet again,
Peace, Love and (get your formal ready) Zombies \IiiI