‘Twas the longest of winters, and clients were few,
The house in Virginia (4 beds and 2 loos)
had been on the market so long that I doubted
we’d sell the damn thing before daffodils sprouted.
The Santerista-priestess knew why I came
She brought out the statue, I never gave out his name,
She prayed over St. Joe, quite vivid and bold
And told me he hated staying out in the cold.
But I was to bury him face down in the dirt
And a little prayer and promise sure wouldn’t hurt.
Facing the street by the real estate sign
He’d sell the house, and all would be fine.
So I sent him first class all the way to Virginia
My hopes were so high, I can’t even begin ta
tell you the prayers I sent with that guy
to send me someone who was eager to buy
my house and bring me my husband and cats
So Kent buried him right, and that, now, is that.
I promised St. Joseph if he sold the house
and brought me my bike and my far-away spouse
That I’d build him a shrine in my new desert home
And honor his gaudiness and never would moan
about plastic and likenesses injection molded,
No, I’d be happy and honor him, hands nicely folded
and feet bare and ready for desert-hot days
And I’d tell the glad story and heap on the praise.
I’m hopeful and already designing the shrine
I will build him to honor the end of the long-waiting time.
NOTE: Within 8 weeks of burying St. Joseph in the yard, we received a successful offer for the house. Two months later, we closed the deal and moved West.
–Image: cat and shrine, Quinn McDonald.
Quinn McDonald lives (alone) in Arizona, while her husband (and the cats) are in Virginia. She decided to solve the difficult real-estate market with the knowledge she gained in graduate school. . .folklore. There is a common belief that a statue of St. Joseph, buried head down, facing the street, next to the real estate sign, will sell the house. It can’t hurt. Watch this space for updates on the house. A qualified buyer should appear any day now.
(c) 2008. All rights reserved.