Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth

In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.

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Opening Lines

Posted by on in Culture Blogs

It's still one of the best opening lines that I've ever heard.

A buddy and I had gone over to 'Saint' Paul to check out the new Ethiopian restaurant.

While we were there, I noticed at a nearby table a woman with very intense eyes, giving the waiter a hard time.

Tough customer, I thought.

About halfway through the meal, I looked up to see the tough customer standing at our table. Those intense eyes were on me now.

“I like your pentagram,” she said, then paused. “I have one too.

She held it up.

“Well, have a seat,” says I.

That's how I met my friend Stephanie Fox. It was 1982.

We've been friends ever since.

She had literally just come into town. (Literally as in 30 minutes before.) Just as I had three years earlier, she'd pulled up stakes, loaded up the car, and come to Pagan Central in search of community.

Well, we found it.

Happy Pagan Pride, folks.

We've come a long way to get here.




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Poet, scholar and storyteller Steven Posch was raised in the hardwood forests of western Pennsylvania by white-tailed deer. (That's the story, anyway.) He emigrated to Paganistan in 1979 and by sheer dint of personality has become one of Lake Country's foremost men-in-black. He is current keeper of the Minnesota Ooser.


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