The Illuminati Garden Club

Chapter 2: Pentagrams & Old Lace

Mrs. Cagwin saved my life. I only wish I could have done the same. Mrs. Edwina Cagwin was the sweet old lady that lived across the street from us in a tiny blue bungalow. She'd been there decades before Mom ever stepped foot in California.

She was a stout old woman, barely five feet tall. Her hair was wiry, and although she tried to comb it down, it was always sort of getting away from her. Her glasses were so thick, her eyes appeared to be magnified. Her coffee-stained, crooked smile was sweet enough, but whenever she flashed it, I always got the sense that she knew more than she was letting on. It was a knowing smile, if that makes any sense.

Some of the kids in the neighborhood thought Mrs. Cagwin was a witch. "That lady is always watching us from her window," I would hear them say as they walked ahead of me. "She gives me the creeps."

What they didn't know was that Mrs. Cagwin wasn't watching them; she was waiting for them to leave so she could open the door to give me an apple pie, or a lasagne... and sometimes cash. Mrs. Cagwin never wanted to embarrass me in front of the other kids. Somehow she just knew when our little family wasn't doing so well.

I remember Mom telling me Mrs. Cagwin wanted me come over. She had a batch of homemade candy for me. So I went over. On the way back, I ran into Anna Karlsson.

"What's that?" She asked.

"Candy."

"Where did you get it?"

"Mrs. Cagwin," I replied.

When I got back home Mom was getting off the phone.

"Did you tell the Karlsson girl that Mrs. Cagwin gave you candy?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because Anna went to her door right afterwards with her hand out."

"It's really good," I said chewing on a piece of taffy. "Did she give her any?"

"Nope; told her she was all out. See that. I told you Mrs. Cagwin knows who the nice kids are; and the crappy ones too. It pays to respect your elders, Sam. Remember that. That Karlsson girl never gives Mrs. Cagwin the time of day, and then she wants a handout. These asshole kids."

"She is a very nice old lady. Did she really give me the last of her candy?"

"Of course not," Mom said sarcastically. "Mrs. Cagwin likes us. Others your age - hell; others my age- don't usually take a moment to say hello to older people, and it's important. Just be more discreet the next time you are boasting about free candy to other kids on the street, OK?"

"OK," I said.

We were invited over later that day for a "proper pot of English tea". I didn't have anything else to do, so I went along.

"So Mrs. Cagwin," Mom asked, "What exactly is a proper pot of tea? What's in it?"

"It's just very hot and very strong dear."

"That's it?" I asked. "It's not all British-y? It sounds so intimidating. Like an American couldn't follow the recipe."

"Yes," she said with a hint of her still-intact British accent. "I suppose it might. What do you kids call it these days? It's a way to -ehem- 'one up' a person?"

I nearly spit out my too-hot tea over that one; this little old lady trying to sound up to date (even though that's sort of out of date now too).

"So Mrs. Cagwin," Mom said, "Have you read any good books lately?"

"Not really. My son sent me that one about the man running around Europe to expose the truth about the Holy Grail."

"The DaVinci Code?" Mom asked.

"Yes, that's the one."

They laughed for a moment, so I thought I'd get in on the humor.

"My friend, Sarah's mom is reading that too," I said. "Isn't there a conspiracy about that lodge that Mr. Brosie belonged to? Where the members wear those funny red hats with the tassel like Morocco Mole? Suppose to be evil or something."

"The hat is called a Fez, dear," corrected Mrs. Cagwin. "And there is nothing evil about the Masonic Lodge. They are a wonderful organization that's been around for centuries."

I felt like a jerk. But for some reason I pushed it.

"Well, if they're really so good," I said. "Then why are they so secretive? And why are there so many conspiracies about them?"

"Sam!" My mom yelled. I looked over. She was giving me the evil eye.

"It's alright Claudia. Samantha has a valid question that deserves a valid answer."

I could feel the heat coming in the direction of my Mom as Mrs. Cagwin turned to me.

"My father was a Mason as was his father. The entire fraternal organization was built upon the tenets of the Christian church. Yes, there is some secrecy to their practice, but that's true about every fraternal organization."

"Then why does the Internet have so many rumors that they are the New World Order, or something? I mean, there's a lot of bad stuff online, I know, but there's tons on the Freemasons. Even the U.S. Dollar bill has a bunch of the symbols they use.

Mrs. Cagwin took a sip of her proper cup of tea, patted her mouth delicately with her napkin, and said, "Perhaps the conspiracies are written by the real Secret Societies in an effort to keep the attention off of them."

And then she gave me one of her little knowing smiles.