I cannot claim a favorite memory from my youth.
Sunday Dinners come close. Sunday Dinners were important.
They might explain why – at the end of my life – I am
Grandpa used to claim the priests at Our Lady of Perpetual Pain
were paid by the word. Like Dickens. It is a reference I never
understood. Grandpa liked Dickens. He had only a passing tolerance
for men of God and their religion.
The girls entered through virtually identical double doors on
the opposing side of the school; wooden crosses were affixed to their doors
though I couldn’t say what they guarded against.
None of the girls looked like vampires from a Peter Cushing film.
There was never anything that exotic entering
Our Lady of Perpetual Pain.
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