Sunday Story...My mom and I used to stay with my grandmother and grandfather every summer, while my dad was being transferred. They were Catholic, and lived on a farm in NE Pennsylvania. My mom had to leave the Catholic Church to marry my father in the Methodist church, This almost caused an international incident, but all was cool. I had an uncle who had never married still at home, and he decided one week I needed to go to mass with him at the small parish and become a semi-good Catholic, despite my DNA being 1/2 Methodist. My mom was completely down with this idea, as she always has been a little rebel. He bought me the whole Four-year-old-goes-to-mass-outfit, complete with the cutest little lace doily to wear on my head. I was really digging all the new duds. He taught me how to genuflect, (I think that is the word, where you walk in the church and kind of curtsey like they do to Queen Elizabeth, and cross yourself) and entering the church, I got the Holy Water thing perfectly. Then I watched with wonderment as the mass unfolded. The Priest was an impressive dude. He had a big hat and was swinging around a ball that had smoke coming out of it, and all kinds of wonders were going on. (Much later in life, I realized all the rock bands must have been Catholic, as the exact same smoke was at all the concerts.) My uncle gave me my very own dime to have. This was all too good to believe! I kneeled at the right times, repeated what the Priest said, and generally seemed to be pleasing my uncle with my 4 year old perfect first experience as a soon-to-be-genuine-Catholic. After what seemed like hours, (I didnt mind, this was too cool) some men started going down the aisles and shoved a basket attached to a long wooden handle down the pews. I was sure they were handing out bags of lollypops, and got so excited about this prospect, I dropped my shiny dime. My uncle dove under the pew to retrieve it for me. He didnt seem happy. I was clutching my dime for dear life, as I was sure that dropping it was some kind of mortal sin, and wanted to please my uncle. Then the basket with the wooden handle showed up, and my uncle whispered to me to put my dime in the basket. NO WAY that was going to happen, so he pried it out of my fingers and dropped it in. There wasnt a single lollypop in that basket! I was so distressed about having to give up my dime, I reached in a snatched a dollar bill for revenge. I stuffed it quickly into the top of my dress. (Fair is fair) My uncle picked me up and drove me home as fast as he could. After yelling at my mother for raising such a heathen, she giggled. My grandparents were yelling, and I had to eat lunch in my room. I never got to go with him again, the cool clothes disappeared, just like my dollar. To this day, when I drive by a Catholic Church, I am tempted to go in and get my dollar back with interest. These very distinguished men were not yet the Pope, but I always watched whatever Pope was on TV, do midnight mass every Easter growing up, and still do, and mom would repeat the story. I never had to guts to ask her for my dollar, and lollypops were out of the question...
Posted on: Sun, 08 Jun 2014 11:34:01 +0000
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