Under My Strange Hat
by Leo
My mind has been flooded lately by old, strange memories. Last night I remembered an incident that must have had a profound effect on me; why else would my mind have hung on to it all these years. It was a Sunday morning and I was going to be late for mass. Thinking about this as I write makes me a little nauseaus; I was probably nauseaus that morning, fearing the consequences of coming to mass late. Nevertheless, I put on my hat and gloves and left the house, telling myself hat being late would be better than not going at all; for surely I could tell my parents I wasn't feeling well and they would understand and let me stay home. I asked my dad for some collection money, he gave me the usual seventy-five cents and off I went to mass.
Our parish had two churches, the original old stone chapel and the new, much larger and grander brick church. Children from grades one through eight attended mass in the chapel, the big brick church was for everyone else. I was thirteen and in the seventh grade, and even though I didn't attend the parish school, I was instructed and expected to attend mass in the chapel. The nuns were responsible for over-seeing the proper and devout conduct of the children, which they did with the fervor of drill sergeants at boot camp. They were hell-bent on precision and used "clackers" which made the harsh sound of two blocks of hardwood being smacked together. I found this sound disturbing. When we heard the sound it was a signal to stand, sit, or kneel, in unison as one body as quickly and quietly as possible. I could see the priest on a raised platform directing the ritual. I felt strangely alienated from him and what he was doing.
By the time I arrived at the church grounds my mind was brimming over with speculation of the possible horrors that awaited me for being late for mass. I had never witnessed any of the chapel children coming to mass late so I had no idea what lay in store for me at the hands of the gestapo-like sisters. My fear was so intense that I made the decision that I would not enter the chapel, instead I would take what seemed to me the lesser of two evils and attend mass with the adults in the big brick church. I walked in, slightly timid, aware that my late arrival would draw some attention, but confident that all would be well. I blessed myself with holy water as I always did when I entered a Catholic church. What could possibly happen now; I was safe, I could breathe a little easier.
There was an old priest at the back of the church, as I passed him to find a seat in one of the rear pews, he grabbed me by the arm and spun me around to face him. His face was red and ugly and twisted with anger. Then he took hold of my shoulders and shook the living daylights out of me, all the while screaming at me, looking at me with utter contempt. How dare I come to mass late! Why wasn't I in the chapel with the other children. Who did I think I was. It seemed to go on forever, parishioners were turning their heads to see what the commotion was about. I was scared out of my wits and thoroughly humiliated. He ordered me to go directly to the chapel.
I walked out of the big church, I slumped out of the big church. I refused to go to the chapel. I decided instead to walk out to the avenue and instead of going home I made a right turn and continued walking down the avenue to the boulevard. On the other side of the boulevard was Schrager's Drug Store. I found refuge there, took a seat at the counter and ordered a root beer float, paying for it with my collection money. I got enough money back to buy some sen-sens and an Archie and Veronica comic book.
Our parish had two churches, the original old stone chapel and the new, much larger and grander brick church. Children from grades one through eight attended mass in the chapel, the big brick church was for everyone else. I was thirteen and in the seventh grade, and even though I didn't attend the parish school, I was instructed and expected to attend mass in the chapel. The nuns were responsible for over-seeing the proper and devout conduct of the children, which they did with the fervor of drill sergeants at boot camp. They were hell-bent on precision and used "clackers" which made the harsh sound of two blocks of hardwood being smacked together. I found this sound disturbing. When we heard the sound it was a signal to stand, sit, or kneel, in unison as one body as quickly and quietly as possible. I could see the priest on a raised platform directing the ritual. I felt strangely alienated from him and what he was doing.
By the time I arrived at the church grounds my mind was brimming over with speculation of the possible horrors that awaited me for being late for mass. I had never witnessed any of the chapel children coming to mass late so I had no idea what lay in store for me at the hands of the gestapo-like sisters. My fear was so intense that I made the decision that I would not enter the chapel, instead I would take what seemed to me the lesser of two evils and attend mass with the adults in the big brick church. I walked in, slightly timid, aware that my late arrival would draw some attention, but confident that all would be well. I blessed myself with holy water as I always did when I entered a Catholic church. What could possibly happen now; I was safe, I could breathe a little easier.
There was an old priest at the back of the church, as I passed him to find a seat in one of the rear pews, he grabbed me by the arm and spun me around to face him. His face was red and ugly and twisted with anger. Then he took hold of my shoulders and shook the living daylights out of me, all the while screaming at me, looking at me with utter contempt. How dare I come to mass late! Why wasn't I in the chapel with the other children. Who did I think I was. It seemed to go on forever, parishioners were turning their heads to see what the commotion was about. I was scared out of my wits and thoroughly humiliated. He ordered me to go directly to the chapel.
I walked out of the big church, I slumped out of the big church. I refused to go to the chapel. I decided instead to walk out to the avenue and instead of going home I made a right turn and continued walking down the avenue to the boulevard. On the other side of the boulevard was Schrager's Drug Store. I found refuge there, took a seat at the counter and ordered a root beer float, paying for it with my collection money. I got enough money back to buy some sen-sens and an Archie and Veronica comic book.
No comments:
Post a Comment