I’ve never been a superstitious individual. I think black cats are beautiful, I have no problem walking under ladders (unless my husband, Bob, is cleaning the gutters…then I get messy!), and carrying a disembodied rabbit’s foot in one’s pocket is, well…disgusting.
The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City, Missouri, is a truly beautiful place, inside and out. I love the antiquities area, as you can walk through ancient Egypt and gawk at the real-live (pardon the pun) mummy. I especially appreciate the artwork from the days of the early church. In one glassed-in case resides a “reliquary”, a silver ornate depository of some sainted person’s finger bone, or so they say. Who “they” are, I’m not sure. Evidently, there was supposedly something special about the bones of any saint so-and-so, and to have one was quite a boon back in the day, a bit higher on the scale than, say, a rabbit’s foot.
Mark Twain makes a point in one of his books that, in Continue reading “Is your religion a rabbit’s foot?”