“Nothing's forgotten. Nothing is ever forgotten.”
(Robin of Sherwood)
“New ink,” I say.
It's the annual Beltane cookout, something of a family reunion here in local Pagandom. Catching up with a friend, I notice two staves of ogham on his forearm.
I can read nine different alphabets, including Phoenician, but (alas) my ogham is rusty.
He helps me out.
“'Nothing's forgotten. Nothing is ever forgotten.'”
I know the quotation, of course. It's the tag line from Robin of Sherwood, the BBC's overtly pagan iteration of the Robin Hood mythos, the 1980s series that brought Herne back to Sherwood.
“It's for N,” he tells me, naming a beloved and much-missed local priestess, now with the ancestors.
It's a fitting tribute. She loved the series well, and in fact came into the Craft because of it. (Discussing it with a friend at work one day, she happened to remark: “...but what's with the guy with the antlers?” “Ah,” said her co-worker, “I think I can help you out there.”)
Our conversation continues, but through the days that follow, I find myself thinking again and again of those words, the words of (among others) Herne.
Nothing's forgotten. Nothing is ever forgotten.