A Good Catholic Boy

I was born into a Catholic Family, Baptized Catholic and had most of the Sacraments. I know that I will never change my Religion but have the utmost respect for all Religions but Catholic just happens to be mine. Now I'd like to believe I'm a "Good Catholic Boy", but I'm sure at the end of it all, God and I will be having it out. I have a lot of things to say to him and probably a lot in my life he wasn't too keen about that he wants to address. So, if you are up there at the same time as are waiting to find out where you'll end up, you better get in line before me because who knows long long this will take. But then again, it could be a good show.

My family was poor, but as Catholics had eight kids. (The eighth was free at St. Catherine's Hospital in Omaha.) I was second oldest and the first boy.

I'll have a lot to say on my upbringing and early life in other posts but I'll just touch on growing up Catholic a little here today. I went to St. Rose Catholic Church and School in Omaha. I started serving mass in perhaps 3rd grade or so. My speech wasn't the greatest then or now as far as I am concerned. To learn Latin was awful and I was awful at it. I remember my first mass with Fr. Moron. I was scared, he was mean and of course my mom was in the hospital giving birth again so she couldn't be there.

I did a terrible job, the priest got mad and I think I cried. Little did I know that until the eighth grade (and off and on in high school) I'd be serving mass a lot. Fr. Moron would call early many times as he was going to say mass earlier. I think he called me and I served so much as we didn't have money to give the church. My oldest sister was actually sent off to a Public School somewhere during her school years as boys were more important and had bigger shoes to fill and thought of less that women. (My opinion.)

After mass and before school me and the other Alter Boy would sometimes have a little wine and the large host (not yet consecrated) for breakfast. I think at times we even added a little jelly. Of course it was unleven bread so it didn't taste that great.

I loved serving funerals because we got to ride in a limousine (a real limousine) with the priest. And if we were lucky we would go to a cemetery clear across town and miss the whole morning of school. At the time I really knew nothing of death other than the people were sad and cried. One thing touched me was when the coffin had the American Flag on it. I can't describe how I felt or why, I just knew it was something very special.

Ok - I know the question that is burning in your head. Was I sexually abused as a young boy by the priest. No, never happened. Never close. Never?

Well, right after I got out of the service there was an incident. It could not have come at a worse time. I was a total mess and hanging on by a thread. In the near future I'll write of that incident.

Just a few more Catholic thoughts, etc.:

• I don't believe I have to go to church every Sunday. That does not mean I am a good Catholic nor is it the only place to pray. I do, however, feel very comforted when I am in church.
• I don't go to confession or reconciliation as it is now called. During mass in Vietnam there was a general confession where one confessed their sins directly to God and to me, that just made more sense and I could be more honest.
• I dislike it when the choir or parishioners sing "Let There Be Peace On Earth". I am overcome with emotions and flooded with memories. I find it very hard to try to hold my emotions and tears in and usually fail.
• For me, being in Mass in Church bring a flood of emotions at times which, at times, makes it difficult for me to keep hidden. But then - the congregation is probably looking at me as "Why is that guy crying - the priest just told a joke?"

Well, that's a little about my religion and I'm sure I'll be talking about it some more.