The Origin of The Rope

One step at a time, with grandma behind me to catch my fall, I made it up the back staircase of squeaky wood steps painted with a matted red carpet that had not changed since 1921. Climbing past the colorful window depicting St. George and the Dragon, and up the spiral metal staircase I went. All the way to the bell tower. The smell of incense infused walls weighed down the air. Each step was full of struggle and excitement and I knew today was my day. I was three years old and today was not just another Sunday at my grandmothers church. That day was my first and last opportunity I ever had to ring the bell that called every Serb to service.

Arriving at the top of the stairs, excitement grew. Standing slightly over three feet tall on the crows nest size platform, I reached towards the spiritual technology of the time; my eyes traveling uo to the extended up into the liminal space between myself and the clapper. Only the smallest of sunlight from the open bell-free slats brought in enough lite to see the dull reflection of the brass. It seemed to go on forever.

With a raising of my arms and a hoist from grandma, I was now able to reach the second knot- smooth from generations of faithful use I hugged it around my chest and midsection. My Grandma's green dress and her recently set hair from the salon embraced the rope and myself.

"Now, use both hands," she said. Tentatively, I pulled. Only silence.

"Pull harder." she encouraged.

With all my heart and force available my yank brought about a deep clang that resonated through my bones. This was the first moment that I felt that a single sound could be so sacred. And, what's more, I was the one who brought the sound to life. Before I could realize, the rope pulled me up slightly and I felt myself starting to escape from my grandmothers hands.

"Let go" she giggled. and I relaxed back into her arms. I continued on a number of times but for how long I don't recall. I only remember her say,

"Ok, that is enough." and she put me back down onto the platform. How could I know then that the sustain of a bell would affix itself and resonate inside of me for the next fifty years. I choose to pull the rope.