We used to laugh at Granny about her Louisville Slugger. (She laughed along with us; she had a delightful sense of humor.) After Gramps died, she kept the bat next to her bed in case “bad guys” broke in. We would imagine Granny, a little old lady standing 5 foot tall, fending off the intruder with the baseball bat. Granny was, by her own admission, “scarey.” She watched hours of news every day. All the murders, kidnappings, rapes, and horrible things that happen in Richmond and all over the country. She watched it all, then locked the house up tight and feared for her life before bed each night. I remember several times unintentionally scaring the daylights out of her by walking up behind her.

When Granny moved out of her house in 2005, my aunt packed a box of my dad’s stuff and sent it home with me. Most of it, I forwarded on to him. But I kept my dad’s baseball bat from his fraternity days; it didn’t fit in the box.

Jackson

Fast forward to this evening. John is out of town. I heard Jackson, our foster dog, growl from the kitchen. When I got up to see what he was growling at, there was a “thunk” outside. I called 911 with a shaky voice. I turned up the financial news, male voices, as I waited for the cops. They arrived after about 10 minutes, looked around the backyard, knocked on the door, told me they didn’t find anything, didn’t seem too concerned about it. And they’re right, it was probably just the wind. Their presence calmed me somewhat. If there was someone here, they know how fast I can get the cops here, and they know I will make the call. But I still felt the fear and adrenaline in and around me.

So you know what I did next? I went and got Dad’s bat. It’s right here on the desk, right next to me. It’s not the Louisville Slugger that Granny kept by her bed. It’s a bigger bat, a Molly sized bat. My dad (I guess) christened it “Big Brother.” Somehow, I find that reassuring. Nobody messes with me when my Big Brother’s around!

Granny

Astrological patterns run in families, like some kind of psycho-spiritual DNA. Granny’s astrological presence in my chart is unmistakable. Her Venus is either 22 or 23 degrees Taurus. Mine is 20 Taurus. We both have Mercury at 14 Aries. We both have Saturn in Gemini. She has Mars (baseball bat) conjunct Neptune (News and fear), and I have them opposite each other. Mars rules both of our Mercuries (our thinking), and with Mars in aspect to Neptune, we both have active (Aries) minds (Mercury) that are highly suggestible to both spiritual truth and fearfulness (Neptune). So Granny’s challenge in life was, and mine is, to choose wisely what we let into our minds.

So I had to laugh at myself when I went for the bat. What worked for her will work for me, I suppose. I think I’ll skip the news junkie thing, not for me. But I’ll hang onto my Big Brother bat (Mars). Whether it’s safety or the illusion (Neptune) of safety that he gives me, is not the point. The point is, like Granny with her Louisville Slugger, when I feel fear (Neptune), I want to feel like I could beat the crap out of someone (Mars) if it comes to that. I feel better with my bro sitting here at my side.

Big Brother