Summary: Funny how a dream can help you figure stuff out…
\nRating:\u00a0 G\u00a0 (1,500 words)<\/p>\n
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The Brandsters have included this author in our project: Preserving Their Legacy.\u00a0 To preserve their legacy, we have decided to give them a home in the Bonanza Brand Fanfiction Library.\u00a0 The author will always be the owner of this work of fanfiction, and should they wish us to remove their story, we will.<\/p>\n
Thanks, Little Joe<\/strong><\/p>\n I had a piece all set for an exercise on one of the Bonanza boards. I had even posted it. But I wasn\u2019t satisfied with it so I deleted it from the board, intending to edit it and repost it later.<\/p>\n But then I had a dream that seemed to fit the topic\u2014sort of. And one of the Cartwrights showed up in it. Now I\u2019ve had plenty of dreams about Adam, but curiously he wasn\u2019t in this one. And, uh, it wasn’t that type of dream.<\/p>\n I was sitting in a Catholic church that I didn\u2019t recognize. There was an old lady a few pews ahead of me, kneeling with her back held stiffly erect, muttering the rosary.<\/p>\n I stared at that straight back. Jeez, wasn\u2019t she uncomfortable?<\/p>\n Then I realized that I was sitting up pretty straight myself. That was odd. I tend to slouch, except when I wear stays.<\/p>\n Oh, yeah. I wear stays\u2014or a corset, if you prefer\u2014now and again because I participate in Revolutionary War reenactments. I have a closet full of 18th century clothes.<\/p>\n I looked down at my clothing. I was wearing stays, all right. And a chemise, several petticoats, and a muslin dress cut in a style appropriate for the 1860\u2019s. No hoopskirt though. Just as well, I thought. I find them difficult to manipulate.<\/p>\n I felt my hair. It was tucked back into a snood. I smiled at that\u2014I always experience \u2018snood envy\u2019 whenever I see the Civil War ladies.<\/p>\n And I had on a mantilla of some kind. Well, women used to keep their heads covered in church.<\/p>\n Just then someone genuflected his way into my pew. The whole church was just about empty, yet he had to sit next to me. I gave him a questioning look.<\/p>\n He felt my stare and turned his head toward me, smiling. \u201cSorry, Ma\u2019am,\u201d he whispered as he pulled out the kneeler. \u201cI usually sit in this pew\u2014when I bother coming, that is.\u201d<\/p>\n I gasped. It was Little Joe Cartwright.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are you doing here?\u201d I demanded.<\/p>\n He stared at me as he knelt down and crossed himself. \u201cUm, I was just waiting for confessions to start.\u201d<\/p>\n I had the grace to blush as I turned away from him. Then I followed his lead as I knelt down too and crossed myself. But my mind wasn\u2019t on prayers\u2014it was racing ahead.<\/p>\n I was sure now that I was dreaming. And if dreams help you solve the problems of your waking life, then it made sense that I would dream about Little Joe.<\/p>\n I always pictured Joe as a nice Catholic boy\u2014after all, his mother was a French Creole from New Orleans. And the problem I had concerned the Church.<\/p>\n And Michael Landon was Jewish. Well, he came from a mixed background. His father was Jewish so he was a patrilineal Jew. His mother, as I recall, was Catholic. Perfect! If anyone could help me, it would be Michael Landon\u2019s alter ego.<\/p>\n I turned back to Little Joe. \u201cCan I ask you a personal question?\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n He cocked his head at me. It must have seemed like an odd question for a total stranger to ask. But he flashed me an adorable smile regardless\u2014you know the one\u2014and nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cSure,\u201d he answered, keeping his voice low. \u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCan you honestly recite the Creed?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n He considered that for a moment. At length he shrugged. \u201cMore or less. I\u2019ve never given it much thought. Why? Are you having a problem with it?\u201d<\/p>\n I sighed. \u201cI can say the opening sentence: \u2018We believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth.\u2019 But after that\u2014well, there\u2019s not much else I agree with.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe furrowed his brow. \u201cSo why are you here?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not sure,\u201d I admitted. \u201cI suppose because I like the Mass and I have a sentimental attachment to it\u2014even if I don\u2019t strictly believe everything the Church teaches.\u201d<\/p>\n I paused and took a deep breath. \u201cI think I\u2019m worried about this because it\u2019s April,\u201d I continued. \u201cAnd that means Lent and Easter. It seems relevant\u2014especially since my family will be going crazy preparing for the holiday.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEveryone\u2019s family goes crazy,\u201d he assured me with a wink. \u201cPeople make fools out of themselves in April trying to get everything perfect for the Easter dinner\u2014or the Seder, I suppose. It\u2019s traditional.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s just it,\u201d I told him. \u201cIt\u2019s time for Passover too. One line of my family used to be Jewish, but we\u2019ve let the religion die out among us. I\u2019ve always felt bad about that. So a few years ago I started attending synagogue\u2014just once in a while\u2014with friends.\u201d<\/p>\n I paused again and swallowed hard. \u201cThen yesterday I realized that I\u2019ve spent more time in synagogue over the last year than in church. And I like it just as much and my attitudes and beliefs are much more in line with Judaism.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe\u2019s hazel eyes twinkled at that. \u201cWell, you can convert, can\u2019t you?\u201d he asked. \u201cA priest might argue with me, but I don\u2019t think God minds one way or the other.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d I agreed, \u201cbut\u2014well, there\u2019s a problem.\u201d<\/p>\n He nodded. \u201cYeah, I\u2019ll bet. My brother Adam courted a Jewish girl for a while. She and her father were fully observant\u2014that\u2019s requires a pretty radical change of life.\u201d<\/p>\n I bit my lip. Of course Little Joe wouldn\u2019t have heard of Reform or Conservative Judaism\u2014I don\u2019t think Reform took off in America till around 1885 and the Conservative branch started after that. He\u2019d only be familiar with Orthodox Judaism.*<\/p>\n But even Reform or Conservative Judaism would make a big change in my life\u2014just not as radical as Joe was thinking.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd then there\u2019s your family,\u201d he added knowingly. \u201cWould they give you a hard time?\u201d<\/p>\n I shook my head. \u201cNo, they\u2019d be fine. If\u2014if I tell you why I\u2019m hesitant, will you promise not to laugh?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course,\u201d he said at once.<\/p>\n I shot him a suspicious glance, but he looked perfectly sincere.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m afraid I\u2019ll forget not to cross myself and such,\u201d I told him.<\/p>\n He stared at me for a moment and then burst out laughing. The old lady ahead of us turned around and gave him a quelling look as I punched him in the arm.<\/p>\n \u201cYou promised not to laugh,\u201d I hissed.<\/p>\n \u201cSorry,\u201d he managed, lowering his voice again. \u201cI know what you mean, though. Old habits die hard. I usually go to church with my Pa and my brothers\u2014they\u2019re real low-church Protestants\u2014and I have to remind myself not to genuflect, kneel, cross myself, et cetera.\u201d<\/p>\n I smiled. \u201cWell, then you understand. Something about the customs and the liturgy get under your skin. And I might miss the things I\u2019m used to. Things like\u2014well, even things like the statues of Our Lady.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe\u2019s eyes went to the statue. Then he turned back to me with a grin. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t worry about that too much,\u201d he whispered. \u201cWhen you come right down to it, Mary\u2019s just a nice Jewish girl.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTrue,\u201d I owned, biting back my own laughter.<\/p>\n \u201cLook,\u201d he said, leaning closer to me, \u201cthere\u2019s no rush, is there? Why don\u2019t you attend the synagogue regularly for a year or so? That ought to give you time to figure things out.\u201d<\/p>\n I nodded slowly. \u201cThat makes sense.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd once a year has past,\u201d he continued, \u201cyou\u2019ll know if you belong there and if you want to take on all the responsibilities that go with it. And, on the other hand, you\u2019ll know if it was only \u2018sentimental attachment\u2019 keeping you here\u2014or something more.\u201d<\/p>\n That seemed like an eminently reasonable solution. \u201cI think you\u2019re right,\u201d I agreed, giving him a grateful look.<\/p>\n He winked at me again. \u201cMy advice is always good. Folks usually go to my Pa when they have a problem, but I could sort them out just as well.\u201d<\/p>\n I opened my mouth, trying to think up a reply to that. But it turned out not to matter, since I woke up.<\/p>\n I stayed in bed for a moment, staring up at the ceiling and absently stroking my cat. Then I got up and my eyes met the postcard of the Cartwrights that sits among the pictures of my family.<\/p>\n I smiled at the framed, faded picture. \u201cThanks, Little Joe,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n Then I remembered that, no matter where you worship, part of your worship should include thoughtfulness for others, right? So I went to my phone, called my mother and asked her how I could make her life easier when it came to the Easter meal.<\/p>\n