No, not those Wiggles. Jesus.
These wiggles were better.
It’d make a better story if I could tell you how I got there, why I was in a bedroom looking at my aunt locked in a spiritual trance. But such is a memory from 1995-ish, yinz. I don’t know what led to this. I was, like, five years old. Tops.
Most likely, the Homistek family was gathered ’round, drinks were had1, and the adults decided it was time for me to see Aunt Cathy’s fancy trick. Or maybe my cousin — my aunt’s daughter — just told her to show me, knowing my young mind wouldn’t be able to handle it.
Hell if I know.
What I do know: Aunt Cathy is cross-legged. She’s sitting on a bed, and her arms are cocked at 90-degree angles, hands forming little “OK” signs on either side of her body. She’s channeling ancient spirits. That much is certain.
Now, she’s humming. Her auburn hair begins to move.
“WHAT?!” I yelled. “Aunt Cathy! HOW?!”
That day in that room, Aunt Cathy blew my young mind. I never saw a thing like it — not on TV, not in a book, not in a movie. This was special, and it happened three feet in front of me.
Shocked and divinely curious, I begged her to do it again.
“Oh, honey, it tires me out,” Aunt Cathy responded. “I can’t do it too much or else I’ll lose my powers.”
Wow. A real-life superhero lives next door. And she’s my dad’s sister! Hell, I see her all the time. Maybe I too have superpowers. I wonder what they are …
Beaming, we went back downstairs.
“You should’ve SEEN it!” I excitedly told the adults. They smiled, and dad rubbed my blond mop but didn’t press, allowing me instead to fully soak in the moment on my own.
Aunt Cathy: I still don’t understand how the fuck you wiggled your ears like that.