I was lucky (in some ways anyway) raised in a pagan household. While my family didn't identify themselves as pagan, they espoused pantheism and celebrated only the pagan elements of the Sabbats, (albeit under the more socially acceptable Christian names). April 1st was our Highest Holiday and taken very seriously. The Rede was suspended, and it was dangerous to leave one's room. It still is.

The information on this web site comes from being raised and raising a family in manner that encouraged original thought, creativity, a lack of respect for authority, and the ability to camouflage oneself when necessary. We valued drama over reality, costumes over clothes. Other people considered us "artistic."

I remember once when I was ten I had to fill out a form that asked my religion. This was in order to attend a Catholic school. (This is another story...another long story.) I asked my Mother and Grandmother what religion we were. They said, "Just put down Jewish." Since we were dealing with Catholics, they figured that would explain any weirdness. This was very much like the Coneheads saying they were from France.

The primary deity of our household was "Creativity." My Mother was first, a professional, classical ballet dancer, and later, a member of the Lester Horton Dance Company. My father was a professional painter. My Grandfather was a used book jobber, so we always had a couple of rooms with stacks of books like a library. My Grandmother, whom we called Baboo (which is the Russian word for Crone), ran the family. We lived in large, decaying houses that we never repaired in any way. When a house actually began to crumble around us, Baboo would sell it and buy another. She was amazing. Our household also included my two sisters, assorted aunts, cousins and boarders.