Later, however, I was not so lucky. The summer before my sixth
grade year, my family moved from Pittsburgh to a small Indiana town
in the dead center of the Bible Belt. I can remember sitting in the
kitchen of my Pittsburgh house, reading Gerina Dunwich's The Magic
of Candle Burning, and trying to understand why my mother was
warning me so stringently to keep my Occult books hidden once we moved
. (My confusion was justified. While experience has taught me that
one can find fundamentalists of every color wherever one goes, the
bigger the city, the more diversity there is, and the less threatening
it becomes to anyone who lives there. For instance, when I took my
first deck of Tarot cards into my 3rd grade classroom, they were
greeted with nothing more than mild curiosity by the other students.)
I nodded my head and promised to keep Candleburning and its
other bookmates safely hidden away once we moved. But in the end, a
combination of naivety and pre-adolescent rebellion won the battle,
and I showed up for class one day bearing The Complete Book of
Saxon Witchcraft in my backpack. It was spotted by my English
teacher, who, to make a long story short, had me expelled from my
elementary school.
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