Three is the Magic Number

Danny sits in the corner reading Mad Magazine, but not really. Shirley made a bundt cake with butterbrickle frosting. It didn’t really help and only Reuben ate a slice and even then he didn’t finish it. Christopher stares out the window at the rain that never seems to stop. They were all stuck inside. Usually rainy days were fun, especially when your mother was the Creator of the Universe.

But this time it was different. Keith wasn’t there to try out a new song or ask Laurie what a good organ fill would be. Most obviously missing was Danny and Keith’s banter back and forth. Shirley sadly whips the potatoes as she remembers how Danny and Keith would mercilessly go back and forth with each other until she felt she had reached the breaking point.

And now she misses it. What she would give to see Keith smash his acoustic guitar on Danny’s head, causing him to scream and fall on the carpet, staining it with his freckled blood. Christopher keeps staring out the window as the rain falls. Laurie hasn’t left her bedroom but just keeps writing “I Can Feel Your Heartbeat” on her fogged up window, as tears spill down onto her David Cassidy pillowcase.

Tracy is in a cold tunnel. She can hardly find her way and keeps stubbing her toes and falling on her knees. She cries for her mother but her voice just echoes off the tunnel walls. And then she sees a rabbit with beautiful, fluffy yellow fur and bright, orange glowing eyes. It starts to hop away and Tracy follows as best as she can, hoping that the rabbit will lead her out of the gray, cold tunnel. She runs as fast as her little feet can move but eventually she loses sight of the rabbit.

As she collapses on her hands and knees sobbing, she feels
something. At first she thinks it’s a raisin and she’s hungry. But then she holds it to her nose and realizes it’s bunny droppings. She smiles in the dark with understanding and slowly, carefully makes her way along the tunnel floor, her fingers searching for more fertility feces.

She keeps finding it which guides her further and further up the tunnel system. And then the pellets stop. Tracy starts to cry in the dark. And as she cries, she notices that the rain has stopped even though it wasn’t raining in the tunnel and then she opens her eyes realizing it was just a dream.

Sun streams through her bedroom window as her face slowly smiles and she whispers under her breath, “Good morning, Keith.”


Westword article about the passing of our Lord & Savior

The Process of the Partridge

This fantastic holiday picture of Laurie Partridge dressed as a pilgrim pops up every Thanksgiving. It’s a wonderful photograph. Susan Dey has always been a stunner. Ugly can’t hold gorgeous down. Of course, it tries. That’s it’s job. The Partridge Family Temple’s job is to spread the Gospel of Point Me in the Direction of Albuquerque.

Laurie Partridge dresses like a pilgrim to remind us that we are all pilgrims with staff in hand and scallop shell on our tunic or cloak. Each of us has a path that leads to the Land of Enchantment. So the Pft! invites you to put on your best pilgrim outfit and get on the brightly painted school bus and hit the road traveling free and easy!

Happy Thanksgiving from The Partridge Family Temple All is Flowing Family of God.

UN-FACT: In The Pilgrims Progress by John Bunyan, there is a palace that serves as a respite for pilgrims on their way to the Celestial City called House Beautiful, otherwise known as Casa Bonita. The Pilgrims Progress came out in 1678. Casa Bonita opened up in 1974. Coincidence?


The Keith is Dead, Long Live the Cassidy!

The mourners all in black sit clutching rosary beads, lunch boxes, autographed photographs and patches. Tears stream down their faces as a steady rain falls from the gray sky, dripping off the tree branches and leaves. Shirley Partridge stands up wearing a black velvet trouser suit, her hair glowing beautiful and blonde on this dreary day. The white casket has not yet been lowered into the black, yawning rectangle beneath it.

Shirley smiles slightly and begins, “To quote Stephen Adley Guirgis, 
‘No parent should have to bury a child … No mother should have to bury a son. Mothers are not meant to bury sons. It is not in the natural order of things.’”

People start to sob loudly but she continues, “But we know in truth that this is the natural order of things. There are a lot of things that are painful that grow from the bitter harvest of truth and we should never forsake the opportunity to eat deeply from that fruit, even if it’s taste is ever so bitter.”

Tears well up in Shirley’s eyes as she continues, “Keith was the apple of my eye and now we plant his seed into the earth so his truth can take root and grow like the living vine that is everlasting.”

The mourners slowly start to rip at their black clothes until they sit and stand naked, shivering in the relentless downpour of rain. Laurie, Danny, Christopher, Tracy and Rueben sit stoically, as tears flow down their faces, pooling onto the ground, mixing with the rain and the mud.

Bobby Sherman clad in all purple, stands up holding an ancient, dented silver bell and hits it with a wooden stick causing it to ring loud and pure all over the graveyard. As he rings the bell over and over again, the white casket is slowly lowered into the black doorway of the Earth.

As Shirley and Laurie and Danny throw handfuls of dirt onto the casket, Christopher and Tracy sing in unison with trembling voices:

There’s an aching in my head
From this bed I can’t get used to
It’s these little hours in the dark, I dread
As I spend my first night alone without you

Half of me has gone away
Gone the love I learned to cling to
Tomorrow I’ll have to find a way
To live the rest of my life alone without you…

The Partridge Family Temple would like to thank David Cassidy, a.k.a. Keith Partridge for his existence and his ongoing inspiration. His music, his voice and his many amazing appearances on television. We will never forget you as you have never forgotten your fans. We celebrate your life in the New Forever and we hope one day to be united in Albuquerque with you in the Land of Milk and Honey.

Rise Invictus Partridge April 12, 1950 – November, 21, 2017