As I get older, I notice that a number of my friends are spiritual or religious. With my Catholic school background, I often wonder: why don’t I have those fine traits? Maybe it goes back to 5th grade.
In 5th grade at St. Anthony’s in the 1960s, our teacher was Sister Mary Lawrence, who was mean and crabby, like some nuns at the time. Actually, she was pretty nice to the girls in class, but the boys – not so much. In this class of 40 kids, we had three boys who were complete cut-ups and never paid attention. These wild boys would exasperate Sister Mary Lawrence. One day at 2:00 – an hour to go – Sister tells us, “Today, all the girls will leave at the normal 3 o’clock dismissal. But, because of all the bad behavior I’ve seen, the boys will stay a half-hour late as punishment.”
I’m thinkin’ – I’m staying late ‘cause I’m associated with these knuckleheads? These clowns can’t even stay in their desks -- it’s constant motion. A half-hour extra for these guys? I’m in the wrong sex.
I keep sulking – Sister, do you know today how nice it is outside? I gotta shoot hoops in my backyard. I just bought a new net. Sister, with the new net, the sound of that swish is phenomenal…exhilarating. You…... probably wouldn’t know.
So, carving out a new Catholic tradition, we 5th grade boys stayed our extra half-hour, and behold, there was great moping and lamentation throughout the land.
Next day in class -- right across from me is my friend Bobby Hein. Bobby’s good at schoolwork, but more important in 1964, he really knows the Beatles -- all their names, instruments, hobbies. In one glance, he can even tell them apart. Me, on the Beatles? I say, “That one’s Paul, and after that, you’re on your own.” Not Bobby Hein. He has all three Beatles albums, sings all the words. Just a great friend to have.
So, Sister leaves the room. I say to Bobby, “Now her name is Sister Mary Lawrence. How come some of the nuns have guys’ names? Sister Mary Dominick. Sister Mary Bonaventure. What’s a Bonaventure? A big adventure, driving a Bonneville?”
“No, listen,” says Bobby. “A nun has to be named after a Saint, and 80% of the saints were guys. You can’t fight the numbers.”
“But Bobby, I think Sister Mary Lawrence wants a full lady’s name, maybe Sister Mary Beatrice or Loretta. This manly name – that’s what makes her so mean. I wouldn’t like being Jimmy Barbara Crowe. I’d be cranky, too.”
“Maybe,” said Bobby. “But I know one thing. Yesterday that jerk Phil Hickey – he called her ‘Sister Mary Lawrence of Arabia.’ Goodbye -- he’ll be takin’ a seat down at our ritzy neighbor, Public School 14. Gotta see his mom’s reaction to that -- her perfect angel Phil, going Public.”
Sister is back in the room and tells us, “Tomorrow is First Friday – we’re going over to Church for Confession. So think about what you’ll say to Father Donovan -- your sins for the whole last month.”
Like a lot of kids, I liked getting out of the classroom, but not for Confession. I didn’t do many bad actions. For Confession, I couldn’t even use the top sin – swearing. I had no urge to swear. I guess other kids were sitting up at night – “Tomorrow, I am gonna swear Blue Blazes – that’ll show ‘em!”
In class, I’m scouring my brain for my recent sins. For Confession, do I just walk in with a blank slate -- “Father, it’s just been a great month for me – I got nothin’ for you – I’m as holy as a nun!” No....no. In Confession, you had to say a few things, like reading a list. In class, I look over at Tommy Bickle, wild kid. He’s smiling. Yup, young Tommy’s got a string of 47 sins for this Confession thing. “Yeah,” he thinks, “which five of my hellish acts am I gonna pour out to Father Donovan this time? He always gets such a kick out of it.”
There I sit, envious of Tommy Bickle. For Confession, the kid’s a natural.
So, I somehow got through Confession, made up a short list of phony sins to tell. But’ it did strike me – I’m now walking into Confession, and lying…to a priest! Think I’ll keep that sin to myself.
The next week, in the hallway, I say to Bobby Hein, “Do you know what today is? Today is a Jewish holiday. School 14 down there is closed – full day off, even if you’re not Jewish. Those kids are all out playing – probably shooting hoops in my yard, with my new net! And last week, it was the same thing – Jewish holiday. Bobby, that religion knows how to operate! These holidays – they’re all in September and October, set up perfectly on a weekday – no school! It’s always beautiful, 70 degrees. And, for the Jewish kids – going to Temple – that’s completely optional. Ricky Feldstein hasn’t seen the inside of a Temple in five years.”
For me, this holiday injustice was personal. On my block, half my friends were Jewish – they romped around on these holidays. At my desk, I pondered our Catholic holidays. Christmas -- every school, public or Catholic, had a whole week off for Christmas. No advantage there. Then there’s Easter. Years back, Tommy Smothers said, “Easter is when Jesus comes out of his tomb, and if he sees his shadow, he goes back in and we get six more weeks of winter.”
Our Easter weekend started with Good Friday. That’s a full day of school, then 75 minutes of Church, for the always-riveting Stations of the Cross – poor Jesus carrying that heavy, brutal cross for miles. In the pews, every kid has the same thought: if this is Good Friday, I am skipping Bad Friday!
So, Easter Sunday -- what do we get? It’s a full Mass, but with all the added flowers and rejoicing, it’s 45 minutes extra. But look – out of the blue, an Easter visit from the Bishop! Oh, that’ll turn some heads. He looks good. No, he’s not wearing an Easter Bunny costume – that is sacrilege! But in Church, everyone can see -- Bishop’s got his talkin’ shoes on today -- add another 20 minutes to the Mass.
Let us tally the numbers from the Easter “holiday” weekend. Days off: zero. Extra church: three hours. Treats: I don’t even like jelly beans. And who just stole my big chocolate rabbit!
So, as I look back now on my Catholic school experience, it probably did launch me on a path of being not so spiritual, not so religious. As a big-time grumbler, I resented the disastrous holiday program run by the Catholics, the complete failure to keep up with the Jewish holidays. And it just didn’t feel right lying my way through Confession. For sure, the words of the Beatles and the Smothers Brothers were more compelling than those of Sister Mary Lawrence, and soon the pattern was set for this cranky 5th-grader: I will lapse and lapse, forever and ever.
Jim Crowe is an Albany resident
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