Starting Over

I think my teachers and the priests breathed a great sigh of release when I moved and had to be transferred to another catholic school. They said they would miss me, but I didn’t believe them for a second…they looked too relieved!

If I thought a new school would be any different, I had another thing coming. And, if my family thought a new school would give me a fresh start and keep me out of trouble, they had another thing coming. If anything, it gave me more power to get into even more mischief because now I would meet my partner in crime, my soon to be best friend. I don’t think catholic schools were ready for the two of us, at least not together.

It was the middle of my fourth grade year. The sun beamed down on our little schoolyard with the children gaily skipping rope, or racing each other from one end of the yard to the other, or standing around gabbing excitedly with their friends about this thing or that. I sat upon the steps to our school with two of my friends, Rochelle and Tenisha. Tenisha braided my hair, while Rochelle talked incessantly about the great injustices done to the black race. I didn’t disagree. Great injustices were done to many groups of people. I listened.

We were called the “Oreos” because they were black, and I was white. (It was okay to say black then; you have to say African American now to be proper. I wonder, does that mean I should be called Italian/Irish instead of just plain 'ole American?) You could usually find me in the middle and Rochelle and Tenisha on either side of me, and this was how we earned our nickname. It didn’t bother me, very little did.

I watched as a black car pulled up the driveway and a blonde-haired girl got out. “Who do you think that is?” I said to no one in particular. Rochelle, barely pausing from her long spiel, said, “Oh, great another white girl, like there isn’t enough white children in our school to try and suppress the creativity of the minority black children trying to learn here!”

Stifling a giggle, I ignored her and looked back at Tenisha, who rolled her eyes. Being the pioneer of the bunch and a seasoned veteran of six months in my new school, I yelled, “Let’s go find out!” and, jumping up, led the way. Tenisha shared my enthusiasm and followed close behind. Rochelle cautiously hung behind Tenisha still rambling on.

I ran up to the new girl and breathlessly stopped in front of her so quickly that Tenisha nearly rear-ended me. “Are you new?” Tenisha blurted out. I laughed and squealed, “Duh!” We all laughed. We found out her name was Elizabeth but liked to be called Beth, and she immediately was at home with our small group of “rebels”.

To Confess or Not to Confess (Part 1)

It was not unusual for my questions to go unanswered. Frustration and headaches were common ailments in the people around me. My questions were usually the cause of their maladies. I would talk to anyone who would listen. Ah, who am I kidding…listening on their part was not really a requirement, I would talk anyway.

Another day at confession (we had to go like every month), I swore I saw Father Callahan purposely stall another child until Father O’Reilly was free. I didn’t like going to Fr. O’Reilly so much. He wasn’t very patient. He didn’t even seem to like kids.

I did everything I could to try to wait for Fr. Callahan to finish. I tied my laces twice, as slow as possible, hoping Sister would send Danny instead of me. I didn’t think she would keep Father waiting, but that wasn’t happening.

Sister’s shrill voice snapped through me like someone cracked a whip, “Enough, young lady! Father is waiting for you.” She pointed in Fr. O’Reilly’s direction. I took one last glance at Fr. Callahan, but he quickly looked away when my eyes met his. I approached the older priest examining his silver gray hair, his pale face, and bright red nose. If he had a white beard and moustache, he would’ve made a great Santa; that is, if he ever smiled.

His steady gaze never left the Altar. I sat down next to him, suddenly wishing I was in the line for the confessional (The thing that resembles the inside of two coffins upright and put together with a screen in the middle. Brrrr…gives me the willies. It was dark in the confessional, but at least I couldn’t see his grumpy face.)

“Good morning, Father.”

“Good morning.” he said in a dry manner.

“It’s been…” I thought for a moment, “a while since my last confession.” I noticed his eyes twitch.

“A while? What is a while?”

“Oh, since the last time, Sister dragged us over here.” I really had no editing abilities, whatever I thought shot right out of my mouth without a moments hesitation. Father gave me a not so nice look. I didn’t take it personally; everyone has bad days.

My plan was to unload all my sins as quickly as possible, throwing the really bad ones in the middle so maybe he wouldn’t notice so much. “I hid my brother’s cars on account of him taking my stuff one time. I told some tall tales, but Nan says that’s the same as lying.” Father didn’t even look like he was paying attention so I threw in a bigger one. “I fed my brother mud pies against his will. Well, first I just told him they were chocolate cupcakes, and he believed me!” I snorted. Then it dawned on me, “I guess, that’s, uh, lying too, huh?”

Father nodded without ever taking his eyes away from the front of the church. “Well, I only had to lie once because, as soon as I put it in his mouth, he knew they weren’t really pies. I had to force feed him the rest, but only cause I was still mad over my best doll that he ruined,” I puffed. Father didn’t budge. I looked at his chest to make sure it was still moving. It was. Hhhhmmm…maybe this was going to be easier than I thought. I breathed a sigh of relief and went on.

(to be continued...)

Cousins First, Then Friends

Many times I would find myself over at Anne Marie’s house to play. She was my cousin. She was okay, even if she did like to play with dolls.

The first time I met her was when her mom brought her to my house. They thought we would get along nicely since we were so close in age. It might’ve been okay if she hadn’t brought those darn dolls with her. How sappy!

As soon as she walked through the door with her brown curls and those ugly dolls hanging from her hands, I knew I was in trouble. Yuck! I ran upstairs to hide, but my mom found me. “Tammy Marie, Annie has brought her daughter to play with you.”

“Aw, Mom, she’s gonna wanna play babies. I don’t like that sissy stuff.” I grumbled from underneath my bed, giving away my position.

My mom yanked me out by my leg with me protesting the entire time. “She can play with Bobby. He doesn’t know any difference anyhow. Moooom….”

Despite our rough start, we did grow on each other. She hardly ever made me play dolls cause she knew I hated it. Anne Marie had a chalkboard and school desks in her grandparents’ basement so a lot of times we would pretend to be at school. Only our school was cool. Not like the real thing. We would let our students, which were a mixture of stuffed bears and dolls, ask questions. A lot of times we would have really good answers for them, too.

If we weren’t playing school, we were pretending to be at church and took turns being the priest and doling out the wafers. Her grandpop would get bags of them from the church for us. Those things weren’t as tasty as potato chips, but we sure could put them down.

“Hey, Anne Marie.”

“What?”

(to be continued)

Confession (continued)

“I didn’t listen to my Nan…um…”

He waited. I thought about it. Ten sounded good. It wasn’t less, and surely it could not be that much more.

“…Ten times. I pulled my dog’s tail one time, but that was really only to get her back for biting me. Does that count?”

Father shook his head in the affirmative. “Continue.”

“I don’t think that should count. ‘An eye for an eye’, right, Father?”

“Jesus said you should turn the other cheek.”

“Oh, yeah…right. So they lied when they said ‘an eye for an eye’?”

“No, Tammy, that was the Old Testament. I think we should finish up. Sister is waiting.”

I glanced over in her direction. She looked back sternly. I shuttered and went on, “Oh.”

Then “Okay. Well, I climbed out my bedroom window to fly my kite, but I don’t think that should count. My dad already beat my behind for that one. I can prove it too. It’s still plum red!” I stood up to point at my backside, but Father quickly grabbed my arm and gently pulled me back down as Sister watched intently.

“Are you finished yet, child?”

"Well…goodness no!” My mind raced over all the things I still needed to confess, and I proceeded cautiously. “I didn’t go to church last Sunday…um…or the week before. I’m not sure about the week before that either…” Father didn’t look sure he should ask, but then he did.

“Why haven’t you been going to Mass?” I swallowed my gum that I had been hiding all morning!

“To be honest, Father, it really puts me to sleep. I figured I can do that in my own bed.” Was his face red? It sure did look it, but then the yellow lights seemed to shadow it.

Confession

“Father, how much sin is too much sin?”

I heard a sigh escape him, and I peered through my thick, ugly glasses at him. He shifted in his seat. A tall, thin younger man with jet-black hair and deep, dark eyes stared back at me. He cleared his voice.

“Tammy, this is a confession. It is not a time for questions.” He turned his eyes forward and clutched his hands together, preparing himself to hear my long list of indiscretions.

Not willing to let go just yet I squeaked, “Why not?”

A bigger, deeper breath gusts out from his pursed lips. “Why not what?”

“Why isn’t it the time for questions?”

Already exasperated he said with feigned patience, “Because, Tammy, we have others waiting in line. It would not be fair to them if we sat here and chit-chatted.”

Satisfied that I would understand this, he once again faced, or perhaps braced would be a better description, himself towards the altar. I had other things in mind. “But confessions are about sins. And I’m asking how much is too much?” I leaned forward in my pew so I could see his face better. He looked like he was praying. I waited, but he seemed quiet for an awfully long time. I wondered if he were okay.

“Father?” No answer. I poked his arm and said a little louder in a whining voice, “Faaaattthheeerr!”

Maybe that was too loud. My voice echoed all around me, bouncing off the large, stone cold walls. Muffled laughter came from the line of children in back of me. Sister gave them one of those “Be quiet or else” looks then turned to me with another familiar look, “Sit up straight and quit your whining.” Wow! She’s good! I sat straighter and slid back letting the wood shoulder of the pew touch mine.

Father looked startled but was quick with his decision. “Tammy, if I agree to come to your religion class one day this week, can we get on with your confession?” I thought about it, rubbing my fingers across my chin.

"Tomorrow?”

“Uh…well…I don’t know about tomorrow.”

I itched my nose and said, “Why? Do you have to think about it?” He picked up his Bible and sat it upon his lap, perhaps looking for inspiration.

“It may be tomorrow, but it may also be another day. I need to check Sister Ann’s schedule.” His voice was firm and taking on an impatient tone.

I shrugged, and then began. “Father, please forgive me for I have sinned. It’s been…um…” Oh no! I couldn’t remember how many days, but I didn’t dare say that. What should I do? I took a deep breath and did what any other kid would do who was backed into a corner…the ones that were smart anyway. I improvised.

“It’s been fifty days since my last confession.” I announced matter of factly. Father’s eyebrows shot upward. Glancing at me out of the corner of his eyes, he said, “Fifty?”

“Well, I don’t actually remember exactly, but fifty sounds good.” I saw a small grin try to come up on the corner of his lips, but he cleared his voice again and sat up straighter. I wondered if Sister Anne yelled at him for not sitting up straight too.

“Continue.” he said his voice sounding tired. I thought about how I should probably work my way up from the smaller to the bigger offenses so as not to put him to shock or anything.

(To Be Continued...)



*** Some names have been changed for privacy sake and to protect the innocent.