Stumbling . . . Running

Cathedral column in Erice, Trapani, Sicily

We were made to endure twelve compulsory years of catholic school education … co-institutional learning. Girls in one building with the nuns with their restrictive habits. Boys in another with the Franciscan brothers, with their flowing hooded brown robes with knotted rope belts.

Fear is a powerful emotion.

The Sisters of Mercy and Daughters of Wisdom made economic use of it, creating an environment of education through fear and threatened humiliation. I instinctively learned to keep my eyes lowered.

They packed us into classrooms of 50+ students. I guess the intimidation was a necessary device for keeping order. Rows of desks began at the back wall and were spaced so tightly that you could barely bend over for a book without the top of your head brushing the desk across the aisle. Getting under our desks in the event of a nuclear attack would have proved more than difficult.

Minds full of curiosity we were steered to a dead end of limited choices. The Daughters of Wisdom were oblivious to the cultural revolution raging outside the confines of the diocese. You could be a nurse or secretary or teacher. We were instructed to pray for a vocation.

Big sigh!

It took me many years to find my way…to stop lowering my eyes in submission.

I fled NYC during the bankrupt years of the seventies landing in the Catskills near Woodstock, NY. There I stumbled into the garden and never looked back…running the rest of the way. I sometimes catch myself still running.

Running 'away from' or 'back to' something I’m not quite sure.

Walking the streets of Casatellemmare del Golfo I occasionally cross paths with a nun. They return my smile, unlike other pedestrians I encounter.