Saturday, November 28, 2009
Sister Catherine Regina Cut the Bells Off My Go-Go Boots
Everyone I know seems to recall their early childhood years as Prodigies -- let me tell you right now, I wasn't one. I couldn't even tell my right from left till... well, fairly recently. I only know of three exceptions: I was potty-trained at one -- about 5 seconds after I took my first step, according to my mother. I also spoke verrrrry early (surprising precisely no one), and my first word was: Book. My grandmother handed me one, and then I reportedly shut up for awhile. Til I learned how to read, a short time after, and then I suppose I figured I had something to contribute to the discourse.)
Our parish and our school was largely populated by a big group of smart and progressive thinkers. Evolution was taught in every science class (no one ever mentioned "creationism" -- if a kid happened to ask about the 7 days, a nun would usually ask them to "define metaphor"). The Old Testament literalism was respectfully explained in terms of Levitican and Kashrud law, and new testament charity was practiced every day -- feeding the hungry, visiting the sick -- they hauled us out on the street and put our asses to work.
Those nuns are the reason you will never hear me say, "oh, I consider myself Spiritual, not Religious," (that and the fact that it's the easiest way you'll ever find to rule out a prospective date based on how pretentious he is). Yeah, yeah, terrible things are done in the name of religion. Terrible things are done in the name of Pie too, grow up.
It was 12 good years -- no scandals, and no tragedies, beyond the occasional unexpected car wreck fatality. The very worst thing that happened to me was Sister Catherine Regina cutting the bells off my go-go boots.