About 10 years ago, I saw a young priest I knew at an out-of-town graduation party. I asked him how everything was going and he answered, “Terrible!” When I asked why, he said, “The people in my parish hate me.” I started laughing. I thought he was kidding. He was a good and holy priest, had a good sense of humor, and liked to joke around.
It happened on a Friday evening in April of 1977, when I was 19-years-old. I was home from college for the weekend and after dinner, my mom brought out a cake she had baked for my youngest brother, Tony. There were 2 candles on the cake and it was time to sing Happy Birthday to the baby of the family. As usual, the candles were lit and the lights were turned off. Tony sat in mom’s lap while we sang to him. After Tony blew out the candles, someone turned on the lights to the dining room. It was then that we noticed mom was wiping away tears from her eyes.
Last Monday I received a telephone call from a retired nun who reads my articles every week. I’ve known this particular nun for over 20 years. Even though she’s “retired,” she works harder than most people who are half her age. She’s a very holy and humble woman who cares greatly about the Catholic Church and the current state of humanity.
When I graduated from a Catholic grade school in 1971, I was determined to never look back. I got off to a bad start in first grade and every year after that got worse. I was more than ready to move on. I looked forward to starting high school with a blank slate and an entire new group of teachers who had never heard of me.
It all started when my wife got pregnant within a month after we were married. What I mean by “it all started” were the questions we got from friends, relatives, and even strangers. Questions like: “Was it an accident?” or “Why didn’t you wait a few years before having your first child?” or “How long have you been married?” Then of course there was the 2-part question. First part: “When’s your due date?” Second part: “Oh, so when did you get married?” Then a pause to do the math to figure out when the pregnancy occurred – before or after the wedding.
Last week I flew to California with Georgette and my daughters to attend the wedding of someone who is very special to us. As you may already know, Georgette and I have 7 children – Harry, Anna, Maria, Laura, Mary Rose, Christine, and Teresa. The wedding was on Saturday, June 18. The groom was my son, Harry, and his bride was Kathryn Neill.
During my first two years in high school, I was on the wrestling team. My win/lose record freshman year was 50/50. I was what was commonly referred to in the wrestling world as a “fish” – someone who usually ended up on his back flopping around until his opponent finally completed the task of “pinning” him.