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  • Meet Yorick.
    Yorick is my guardian skeleton, a Day of the Dead personage I met once upon a late October, in New Orleans. I happened upon a Day of the Dead store, one Halloween night in the Crescent City. I went in, and became instant friends with the owners, who showed me around and told me they had unadvertised rooms for rent back of their back garden, there on North Rampart Street on the border between the French Quarter and Treme. I had a brief chat with Yorick who was resident on a shelf; we exchanged a few yuks and ghosts.

    The next year I asked to rent a room in their quarters at the same time of year, but the rooms were spoken for. However, they did have a bed, in the inventory room of the store and if I wanted I could stay there. I did. I slept in the Day of the Dead store, on the Day of the Dead. Me and the small and large creatures and the presiding skeletal angel, whom I named Yorick after the skull of the court jester Hamlet holds. ("Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him, Horatio...")

    Yorick and I read a lot of Flannery O'Connor together that October-November and then he flew home to Toronto with me. Distinctly I remember walking through New Orleans airport security with his head sticking out of a carry bag; distinctly I remember the chuckles of all on the plane, including the staff, as I laid dear Yorick out, unbending his legs, in the overhead compartment. Laissez les bons morts roulez!

    Over time, I realized that Yorick and I were similar in our love of hats and costuming up to take hat pics.

    Yorick in a smart little white felt fedora:
  • Yorick in his Basque red beret:
  • Yorick in his favourite Western cowboy hat:
  • Yorick in his floppy Canuck toque:
  • And yet, and yet.....Yorick, male above with the lady pelvis and the eyelash hips below. Of course. A gender jester for all seasons. He and she watch over me as I return to my home, and as I depart.

    "...to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that...."
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