The time had arrived for me to start first grade. Since we lived in Our Mother of Good Counsel Parish, I was to attend the grammar school of the same name. The church and school were located at the corner of Vermont and Ambrose Avenues, one block below Los Feliz Boulevard and three long blocks from my house. I still had a memory of my kindergarten in Chicago, but I thought that since I had moved from there, I wouldn’t have to go to school anymore. To me, it didn’t seem like such a good idea. On my first day of school, my mother dropped my sister Geri, and me off at the curb. Geri walked me into the school yard and put me in the first grad spot and then ran off to her friends. She, being in the fourth grade, knew her way around the place. I, on the other hand started shaking the chain link fence, screaming for my mother to come back. I watched her as she looked my way. She pointed at something and then drove off down the street. I kept crying for her in the hope that she would turn around and come to get me. I knew my sister was somewhere around, but just where, I didn’t know. Ultimately, I turned from the fence and looked around, only to discover that before me, moved these scowling beasts in black.
A loud bell went off.
"Line up, children, all first graders here.” A white hand from a black beast took hold of me and led me to a line. In actuality, there were eight long lines, one for each grade, but at that point, I didn’t know anything. I just saw a multitude of strangers. One nun stood in front of each line, facing us children with pursed lips. Once we were all still and quiet, the nuns walked up and down the lines, checking each child out. Whenever a nun moved, these large white beads that hung from their belts clicked and somehow that noise relaxed me. I followed the wave of children as they turned left toward the flag, listening as words in unison were spoken. In actuality, the entire school of children were standing at attention and reciting: The Pledge of Allegiance, The Hail Mary, The Lord’s Prayer and The Apostles Creed. All I could think of was one question. Why did my parents put me here?
I was shocked to discover that the very same grotesque man who hung above my Grandmother's bed was in the classroom and so too, was the statue that slid off the chest and hit me in my face. They were one and the same. They . . . it, was a man called Jesus, and he was a very kind man. I didn’t say anything. Then it was time for recess.
I shyly went up to the teacher and started to cry again. I pointed to the crucifix and told her that I didn’t like the man, that he looked scary, and that I wanted to go home.
“He only looks scary because bad men hurt him.” cut in Sister Mary Edwards, who was the school principal. She began trying in vain, to keep me from loudly bawling. Finally, she produced a little paper. “Here, dear, here he is, look here, on this Holy Card. Now, he doesn’t look scary here, does he?”
I had to agree with her. He looked very nice with a yellow shining circle around his head.
“He loves you more than anyone, even more than your mother and father.” She continued.
I listened carefully to what she was telling me. “Well, that’s good.” I said, unconvinced.
But, it must have been true, because it said it in My Little Heart Prays, a prayer book written by, Sister Mary Theola,. Sister Mary Edwards showed me this, and to further prove, herself, she read out loud from the book. "Jesus is good. Bad men tell Him He must die. Jesus, you are going to die because, I have sinned. I am sorry." She finished reading and looked at me with a kind smile. “You see? They hurt him, because, they didn't believe he was the Son of God. And you . . . we, all hurt him. Not to worry, you will understand more later."
My friend Kevin was brought up by two catholics, one italien the other irish. (he prefered to be called irish....he didn't like the old italien woman who lived in back of him and wore black wool, and a viel, even in 90 degree humidity). Kevin was my friend in grade school, but he went to St Peters. When he reached around 10 years old, he told me his parents want him to be a priest, like his uncle Kevin. He started to call his little brother Moslem Dog around that time. (1963?) He asked my sister Polly to a dance at the catholic school a few years later, and I went as "chaperone". When they found out I was episcopalian they "baptised" me in a urinal. Kevin's uncle Kevin eventually left the priesthood and got married; Kevin himself married a jewish girl from Austin, Texas...where did all the penguins come from? (These blogs are fun...!)
Oh man, you don't even wanna know my opinion of this stuff pushed & shoved into little children's beautiful, innocent little heads. Good writing though!
do I know what that is about? Some friends of mine stayed up all night in Sodom Cross church to make sure thier father's soul didn't get captured by the devil. Real place....near Gore mt. ski center...I hate to say "those people" but some of them think I'm the devil himself, I think, because I said I saw a ufo. But then again, some of "them" saw one too. And there it goes...but, NOT THAT NIGHT. HAHA (Sodom Corners is on the corner of peaceful valley road between North Creek and Johnsburg, and not on the map) So they go home and tell thier parents they saw a ufo...talk about a can of worms...it isn't really about us and them, it's all us in the end. Maybe that's the message after all. Some people just keep thier minds shut to that fact. I had an aunt who got religion in Florida...she brought my mom to get "born again" and they talked in tongues, the whole 9 yards. But my aunt was a lot more fun to be around BEFORE she got religion. They put her on a guilt trip about an affair or some damned thing and she left the preacher her BEDROOM SET. I can't imagine what the hell she was thinking. Mom is too wise to be taken in by them, she's lived with Mark Twain fans all her life. And then...and this is the part that's really freaky...mom tells me the PREACHER GOT BUSTED FOR COKE POSSESION. I have asked her if she remembers the guy's name but she doesn't. Sounds like something out of a fairie tale, doesn't it? Or was it just the 80's? I know too damned much about history to put much stock in organized religion or "my country, right or wrong". I also know too much about science to deny the possibiltys that ufo may have been hinting at...secret governments, aliens, you name it. I have an open mind on the subject. Some people don't.
I am moved by your strong reaction. We both feel the same about these aspects. Indoctrination of this sort forced on any child, is dangerous to a young mind. (And that was only my first day.)
EASY TO BE HARD
Often, there was the question of how, when or where. What matters most is why...
They say there is but five degrees of separation between all of us.
This is my story and observations about growing up under the infamous Hollywood Sign, in the 50's 60' and 70's. This is also a story of my entering the fast lane, and finding that if I wanted to survive, I had to get off it, but... it wasn't that easy.
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