The day before Christmas break at our Catholic school was the best day of the year. Not only did we get to leave at twelve o’clock, but our teacher would give everyone in the class a special box to take home. The boxes were filled with colorful hard candy, some in the shape of swirly ribbons and some like little pillows with sharp corners. We would all line up to get our gifts from Sister, who stood at the front of the room and appeared to be happy and kind in a way that we’d never seen before, and wouldn’t see again until the very end of the school year in June. She mentioned that sometime before dismissal, Monsignor might come in to wish us a Merry Christmas and give us his blessing.
Monsignor, in case you don’t know, was the head priest of the parish. He dressed in a black cassock and wore a special hat that was black with maroon trim. If he ever appeared unexpectedly, we would all snap to attention, our eyes as wide as if the Statue of Liberty had jumped off her pedestal and walked into the classroom. All conversation would stop in mid-sentence, and any chewing gum that happened to be lurking in our mouths would be instantly swallowed.
We were in the fourth grade. Row by row, we went up to get our boxes of candy and say thank you, Sister, and have a Merry Christmas, Sister, and Happy New Year, Sister. (Every sentence we spoke to her had to end with “Sister,” even if it was just the two of us in the room and she knew you were talking to her. Whenever she addressed us as a group, we seemed compelled to fall into an irritating, slightly out-of-sync sing-song response that I’m sure, at least on occasion, drove Sister to have thoughts about us that were less than holy.) We were soon back at our desks, which were made of wood and had a compartment inside where we stored our books and pens, and where we stashed our baseball cards if we thought we were about to get caught with them. Twice a year — right before Christmas break and on the last day before summer vacation — we cleaned out our desks and took all of our junk home because the school had to be swept and mopped and scrubbed so it was nice and clean for when we came back. But we weren’t thinking about coming back. We were thinking about weeks of glorious freedom, unhindered by heavy textbooks and bland uniforms.
It’s important to mention here that we weren’t supposed to eat any of the candy until we were out of the school building. On this particular day I was chewing gum, because I was a maverick and a fiercely rebellious young man. (Not really. But I had found an unopened pack of baseball cards while cleaning out my desk, and I’d slipped the flat, brittle, pink, sugar-dusted slab into my mouth while Sister was still handing out the boxes.) Feeling outrageously defiant and maybe a little delirious from holiday anticipation, I opened my box and removed one of the pieces of pillow candy and popped it into my mouth. Five seconds later, who walked in but Monsignor! Worst of all, for some impossibly unlucky reason, he seemed to be looking directly at me. Monsignor. Staring right at me, the little idiot maverick with a mouth stuffed full of bubble gum and hard Christmas candy. I did the only thing I could think of. While the rest of the class was chanting the mandatory “Good mor-ning, Mon-seen-yer,” I quietly swallowed the evidence. Then, while one of the other students carried out the honor of asking Monsignor to bless the class, the hard pillow-shaped candy lodged itself in my throat, each of its four sharp corners resting perfectly and uncomfortably in the inner walls of my esophagus. I didn’t know where the bubble gum had gone and, struggling to stay alive, didn’t care. I tried to cough up the candy, but the more I coughed, the more I could feel its corners pressing in for the kill. By now Monsignor was in the middle of his blessing: “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit…” And I was sure that any moment I was going to fall over dead and go straight to Hell for being deceitful, and for interfering with the circulation of grace. Worse, I feared that some of my friends, seeing that the Monsignor’s blessing had killed one of their classmates, would abandon their own faith and join me in eternal damnation. Then the Devil, in all his wickedness, would point to me and explain to the others how they’d ended up in the fires of Hell, burning and screaming for mercy until the end of time.
I leaned forward, my eyes dripping and my skin drenched in sweat, and prepared to exit the world. I was barely nine years old and had lived a short and good life. But I had also failed to resist temptation, and now I hovered near death, with Monsignor no doubt believing me to be simply lost in silent prayer.
Then, as my forehead touched the desk, the candy pillow fell onto my tongue. I opened my eyes and allowed it to slip from my mouth, and sat up just in time to see the back of Monsignor’s cassock as he left the classroom.
Having escaped death, the tortures of Hell, and even a scolding from Sister and Monsignor, I ran home and presented the box of candy to my mother. She put it out on Christmas Eve, no doubt expecting me to eat most of the box, but I couldn’t even look at it. Still, it was a joyous time. I had confronted my own mortality and was savoring life.
To this day, whenever I see that hard Christmas candy, the swirly ribbons and the pillows with the sharp corners, I sense a lump in my throat, and my eyes water just a bit. I get a similar but much more pleasant feeling when I think of how this blog has allowed me to make new friends, and to reconnect with a few old friends — including at least one who sat in that fourth-grade classroom long ago, looking forward to the long holiday and blissfully unaware of a sweet little miracle taking place just a few desks away.
I hope your holiday is filled with sweet miracles, too. Be safe, and Merry Christmas.
ANSWERS: (1) There’s only one Wise Man, and the expression on his face does little to suggest wisdom. (2) The camel appears to be rolling his eyes. Camels can’t roll their eyes; they show impatience by twitching their humps. (3) The boxes of candy are on the floor. Sister would never do that. (4) The students are wearing street clothes, and summer clothes at that. (5) Rosemary Palladino, the blonde-haired girl on the right, is in a pink dress. Rosemary hated pink. (6) The clock says ten minutes to two. We were supposed to get out at noon.
cooperstownersincanada
December 24, 2010
Glad you survived this ordeal to bless us with your wonderful writing. You have made me nostalgic for that gum that came in baseball card packs though. Great piece! Merry Christmas to you and your family.
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bronxboy55
December 25, 2010
Thank you, Kevin. I only wish I had stashed a few of those unopened packs into a box and saved them.
I hope you’re having a great holiday.
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arborfamiliae
December 24, 2010
Great post, Charles. I’m glad you survived your harrowing experience in fourth grade. I love the picture of the Sister having less-than-holy thoughts about the fourth graders (as a parent of a fourth grader and a fifth grader, I can attest that less-than-holy thoughts happen much more often than I’d like). I remember the gum from the baseball card packs and you describe it perfectly–I could almost taste it as I read your description. “Circulation of grace” is a great phrase. In all my years at Notre Dame and at seminary I don’t recall ever hearing that particular phrase, but it’s a keeper. I hope grace circulates among you and your loved ones this Christmas. Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
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bronxboy55
December 25, 2010
I appreciate that you took time out from your vacation to read and comment, Kevin. I hope you and Julia are having a wonderful Christmas and enjoying time with your fourth- and fifth-grader.
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Amy @ Soul Dipper
December 25, 2010
I used to shiver with fear when I heard the stories told by my Catholic friends about their experiences with the nuns and the clergy. The confessional sounded like a torture chamber. Somehow, all of those friends ended up being great citizens. 🙂
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bronxboy55
December 25, 2010
Part of the fear was a result of the fact that a typical class, at least in our school, had about fifty students. That nun was up there by herself, teaching this mob all day long, and strictness was unavoidable. We tend to remember the worst of it, but the nuns were dedicated and kind-hearted — when we gave them a chance to show it.
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Amiable Amiable
December 25, 2010
I failed to resist temptation by logging into WordPress on Christmas Day, sparked by the boys each unwrapping a copy of Writing Rules! Though it would have been a “sweet” way to go, I’m so glad you didn’t kick the bucket from a bad experience with candy. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to give my guys those awesome Christmas gifts!
Buon Natale to you and yours, Blud!
The Queen of Wordplay
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bronxboy55
December 25, 2010
Buon Natale to you, Your Majesty.
Are you planning to pop open a bottle of Bello Limoncello after dinner?
http://bighappynothing.wordpress.com/2010/12/11/homemade-limoncello-is-straining/
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Amiable Amiable
December 26, 2010
Planned and did! 🙂
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Allan Douglas
December 25, 2010
Charles, I am so glad you escaped the candy induced condemnation; I’m sure your tales would not be nearly as entertaining if typed from the depths of hell.
Merry Christmas my friend!
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bronxboy55
December 25, 2010
Thanks, Allan. Merry Christmas to you, as well.
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magsx2
December 26, 2010
Hi,
Wonderful story. Silly me was looking all over the picture trying to find what was wrong with it. Of course I couldn’t find anything. Then I realized maybe the answer is in the story. Hmm could be too much Xmas cheer. 🙂
Merry Xmas and hope you have a great 2011.
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bronxboy55
December 26, 2010
The only legitimate issue was the one concerning the clock, and that was pretty sneaky, too. I’m glad you liked the story, and I appreciate the comment. I hope the new year is great for you, as well.
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Mitch
December 26, 2010
That’s just funny as sin! Of course I was the goody=goody in school, so I never did anything I wasn’t supposed to do, so I can’t fully relate. But I can relate to choking on stuff I’ve tried to eat; definitely not a good time!
I hope you had a wonderful holiday.
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bronxboy55
December 26, 2010
I never really got into trouble either — nothing serious, anyway. But sometimes, if they couldn’t identify who’d caused a problem, they’d punish the whole class. There was no escape then.
Thanks, Mitch. Same to you.
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Earth Ocean Sky Redux
December 26, 2010
Item #7 Wrong with Picture:
Sister does not have ruler in hand to whack your knuckles for misbehaving!
While not speaking from experience, my Catholic-school raised friends tell me that uncomfortable sensation actually happened, with regularity.
I’m too late to wish you a Merry Christmas so I’ll be the first on the blog to wish you a Happy New Year.
And Amiable Amiable, are the thank yous pouring in from those lucky friends who were the recipients of the Limoncello? They are all still alive, yes??
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bronxboy55
December 26, 2010
The weapons of choice were 12-inch ruler, yardstick, and wooden pointer. You get hit with any one of those, you tend to remember it (especially the pointer). I got a few across the knuckles and at least one on the back of the legs. But not the day before Christmas break! And as I recall, there were far more threats than actual punishment.
Happy New Year to you, too, EOS. Thanks for the comment.
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Amiable Amiable
December 26, 2010
Good one! Yes, they’re “pouring” in! As far as I can tell, all of the recipients are still alive. But, come to think of it, I haven’t heard from a few of them.
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shoreacres
December 27, 2010
One of the great wonders of our childhoods is that we could have died multiple deaths and we didn’t. We didn’t die of the candy that choked us, or the sled that ran us into the tree or the bicycle that lost its brakes or the bully that made us eat the live goldfish. (Yep. True.)
But sometimes we almost died and no one even knew. I remember particularly being caught with gum after lunch in 7th grade study hall, and being made to go stand on the stage in front of 100 kids with my gum on the end of my nose. And you thought the sisters were tough!
Just a note: don’t ever let the Sisters know about the old-fashioned balsa wood Velveeta cheese boxes. Back in the day, teachers and parents knew that if you removed the lid, you had a lethal weapon. It was the “sproooinnnnggg” in the balsa wood that did it. Every now and then I go antiquing, and if one of those boxes is around, you can spot people who’ve had a close encounter by the expression on their face. 😉
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bronxboy55
December 27, 2010
The gum on the end of the nose sounds familiar. I don’t think it happened to me, but I’m almost certain that punishment was dished out to at least one of my classmates. The cheese box lid is something I hadn’t heard of, but then, every generation has its tools of pain. We used to make handguns out of wood and rubber bands, and shoot small squares of cardboard at each other. No one died then either, or even lost an eye.
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Priya
December 27, 2010
And Rosemary is chewing gum to give you company, is she? (It is you with the ginger hair, hands in your pocket, right?). Would the Sister have approved?
Are you soon going to patent your absolutely-wow humour (humor)?
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bronxboy55
December 27, 2010
No, I’m the one in the second picture, with the brown hair and twig-like arms. Sister would not have approved; chewing gum was a major offense.
Thank you for the comment, Priya. I don’t think you can patent humor, but I’m happy to know it travels such a long distance.
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Anklebuster
December 27, 2010
Charles, it is always a pleasure to read your memories.
I hope you have a Rockin’ 2011!
(This is just my elaboration on the time-dishonored “great post!” If we were sitting across from each other, I’m sure I’d launch into my own schoolboy tales – like the time I “appropriated” some Mad Magazines from a classmate…)
Cheers,
Mitch
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bronxboy55
December 27, 2010
I’d love to hear the Mad Magazine story. It was always a favorite when I was growing up.
Happy New Year to you too, Mitch!
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Val Erde
December 29, 2010
Happy belated Christmas, Charles. And happy-soon-to-be New Year.
Despite my being Jewish, I also went to a Convent school (primary school, 5yrs old til 10, I left early because of when my birthday falls, and I still can’t quite figure that one out). My few remaining friends from that school are pretty annoyed that I was away (sick) so often probably because I didn’t get punished as much as they did. But I do remember the ruler on my legs and lines having to be written and so on. I didn’t have to say any Hail Mary’s though – lucky escape, hey?
I do remember that the rules of the school forbade eating in the street, which was one of the few things I did do that I shouldn’t have done. I was a very shy, naive child, but I couldn’t understand the logic behind ‘don’t eat in the street’ so I did it!
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bronxboy55
December 30, 2010
Sometimes there are just too many rules, and we have to break a few of those lower-level ones. I’m glad we both survived. Happy New Year to you, as well.
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