How Morey My Cargoyle Saved My Life

A number of years back, I made a bell named Morey. He looked much like a member of the Irish side of the family. He had those bright smiling Irish eyes of the Matthews clan with a concerned brow, a knowing glimmer and slight cataracts. He really felt like a family member so I always kept him close. Morey was the first bell that I ever hung in my car. I don't know why I never had the idea to hang one of my gargoyle bells from the rear-view mirror before, but it really seemed like a good idea at the time. I had been having lots of strange mechanical problems with my '05 Prius and when I hung his waggy blue-tongued head, face-forward from the rear-view mirror, I felt so much more at ease about driving, even though my car continued to 
break down.

Morey was with me at midnight, when I was on the long stretch of highway 33, a small two-lane highway going out onto a pinnacle torwards Tilghman Island on the Chesapeake Bay. Morey gave me assuring looks with his sparkly Irish eyes every time during my car crisis. I knew I would be okay with Morey by my side. He was the most assuring when my brakes gave out right when I was getting on the excruciatingly long spans of the Bay Bridge. This was undoubtedly the most terrifying experience of my life...next to living through a hurricane, (That is another story, but I had Bonzi for that one.) but Morey was there for me. I put my flashers on and talked with him as we rolled passed large freighter ships above the expansive blue waves. We prayed that no one in front of us would stop...imagining ourselves flying into the blue abyss below. I asked Morey if I should have my windows down so I could swim out easily if we crashed. I resorted to my usual calming strategies, loudly singing and religious hymns I could recall from years of attending Catholic schools. Morey's gleaming eyes seemed teary with compassion, while reassuring me it would be okay, and it was.  



My Prius is now in a metal junk pile because its computer system fried, but I survived innumerable pratfalls because the mechanics simply could not find what was wrong with the vehicle. It took six months for them to find out that one tiny electrical component among hundreds was fried. Meanwhile, I continued to drive that mysterious death trap of a car with Morey at my side. I survived failed break systems in the wee hours, on major highways and on many bridges, including the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, one of the longest bridges in the world, several times. It truly is a miracle that I drove all those miles in that possessed Prius unscathed. I honestly feel I have my cargoyle guardian Morey to thank for that. During less arduous times, Morey would just ring for me out of the blue... reminding me to stay alert and watch for deer or other pratfalls. He saved me from many accidents with his surprise dings and dongs. When the Prius went to scrap, I knew Morey's job was done. I have since sent him to Washington to help a teen cousin of mine who is/was deathly afraid to learn how to drive. I am sure he is helping her to feel safe and bringing her  the security and confidence she needs while driving herself to school and her new job.

Now I have a different cargoyle named Gormy. He keeps me company on my hour commute to teach Annapolis. Gormy is semi-retired because he used to be my classroom bell. Now he actually only has to work a couple of hours a day and being a cargoyle for me is now a piece of cake job. This is ok with me because, although driving is a serious matter,  I know that I will never need the serious protection and reassurance that Morey provided again.  

Stay tuned for other stories about cargoyles, including one about how Gormy helped me avoid an extremely expensive speeding ticket...in a very surprising and clever way!

The Power and Meaning of Tongue-Sticking

  I went to Roman Catholic private schools in the 70's and 80's. When I was in first grade, I was trained how to properly receive the holy  communion through religious education. As a part of this preparation for holy communion, we were taught to stick out our tongues to receive the communion when the priest introduced it to us. This was the accepted method of the day. After my first communion, I would greatly anticipate communion time, often salivating at the thought of the delicious little wafer and considering that communion meant that the long Mass was almost over. In my inability to focus, or for that matter, follow Father's thick Latin accent, I would involuntarily practice this gesture over and over again throughout the Mass. I thought that this would help me to to do it correctly for the priest when it was finally time for the ritual. Needless to say our Principal, Sister Francis, did not understand my practice and assumed instead that I was expressing negative ideas about Father Livius by pointing at him with my tongue. While seated face to face with Sister in her office, I could barely focus on anything but the paddle with holes drilled through it hanging on the wall behind her head. I blubbered unintelligible explanations to Sister through my distraught cries. I will leave my punishment to your imagination, but lets just say that I wished Sister belonged to the the Sisters of Mercy.    

Famous photo of Einstein annoyed with reporters.

Tongue-sticking  or "sticking out your tongue" has become a gesture that has recently become somewhat acceptable as an adult expression in Western culture. Even as recently as ten years ago, if an adult stuck out their tongue at you or posed with their tongue out in a photo, most would have assumed they were mentally off. Most people are familiar with the famous photo of Albert Einstein sticking out his tongue in annoyance of reporters. This was a rare and bold act which only Einstein could get away with at the time. Now however, it is not surprising to see the pinkish face protrusions of celebrities and even U.S. Olympic athletes, along with a vast array of American teens and twenty somethings through their Instagrams and Facebook profiles. My questions in regards to this is what has changed in are views of this expression and how does it reflect our culture? Have we become, crass, vulgar and improper or has the meaning and acceptability of this gesture changed within our culture?

The tongue is truly a fascinating a unique muscle and sensory organ that has held varied symbolic associations across cultures and time due to its versatile nature. As a sensory organ, the tongue more directly represents our sense of taste and liking for culinary items. Someone may stick out there tongue to imply anticipation and hunger. It is also an organ associated with kissing and sexual practice and therefore a tongue display can be considered a sexual advance of sorts. On the other hand, when someone is concentrating intently on something, they often inadvertently stick out their tongues. I am a lower school art teacher and have many photos of children focused on their art projects with their tongues out to the side. The tongue is also a symbol for our intelligence by allowing our incredible capabilities of speech and communication. 

For Tibetian monks, tongue-sticking is a form of greeting, but also a way of revealing to others that you are good and you do not have a the black tongue of a demon. At the other end of the spectrum, throughout many cultures of the world, tongue-sticking is a powerful war gesture and an important and often final move in war dances. Many ancient cultures like the Mayas, Aztecs, Celts, and Indians among others have gods and goddesses represented in their art with their tongues hanging out. There is also repeated mythology across cultures that integrates fierce and mighty tongue-sticking gods lapping up blood, which brings us in a round about way back to my story about preparing for holy communion. Should I have been punished for anticipating the sacrament with such a natural response and desire to be prepared? Was my tongue-sticking really such a horrible act?

Gargoyle Bell by Dawn Malosh

All questions aside, the reason I began researching this unusual subject is because essentially my gargoyle bells are tongue-stickers. No matter how you view it, they are sticking out their tongues. Sometimes they seem like they are laughing so hard that their tongues are hanging out. Other times they seem like a Maori warrior or an ancient Sheila-na-gig, warning enemies to back-off. Like human tongues, my bells' tongues give them their voices, their unique rings. Their vibrations are used to cleanse spaces of evil and negativity. In addition to this, like the gods, my gargoyles' tongues could be perceived as a type of warning or reminder that they will not hesitate to devour anything that tries to harm the humans and spaces they protect. Visit www.gargoylebells.com for more information about this or email me at gargoylebells@gmail.com.




It seems that our society has come to some sort of realization and acceptance of this gesture of tongue-sticking. It is all about the intent behind the gesture and people seem to understand that better today. I am glad because most people are very accepting of my tongue-wagging gargoyle bells. If only Sister Francis understood that, like a good little Catholic, I was just trying to prepare myself to consume the body of Christ, then maybe, just maybe, she would have forgiven me for my tongue-sticking ways.