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JMJ
Mary's Hat
Charles C. Hesse (Class of 1/47)
July 1st, 1999
St. Albans was raining golden leaves. A fall carpet spread from house to house and
across the streets. The sun illuminated the maple leaves, painting the neighborhood in
gold. Johnny De Lury, George Stoleworthy, Peter Didier, Charlie Sullivan and I kicked
leaves our way all the way to school. We chattered on about the Yankees.
Monday, 8:30 am , we arrived at the schoolyard . Father Flynn and Father Sullivan were
flipping baseball cards with the boys. Caught some ball before Sister closed the gates and
blew her whistle. We lined in rows by class, pledged allegiance to the flag, sang a Mary
song, and prepared to march into school.
Dorothy Ophals and Marilyn Miller first saw the crisis and immediately turned to stone.
A frightening shiver started at the front of the line, passed two by two down the row.
Panic welled up in every student's eyes as we saw Sister's face. We looked neither right
or left, but straight ahead, not wanting to stand out; finding safety in conformity. It
wasn’t blush, nor pink, nor colored cheeks. It was tomato red from neck to brow!
Sister was ready to blow! We were about to be crucified!! God save us all!!.
Time stood still as we proceeded into class with catfoot steps. Clothes made no sound
as we put away our jackets in the rear closet. No word was spoken as Sister stood erect in
the rear of the class and signaled us to kneel on our seats to say morning prayers. My
head was stiff, but I allowed my eyes peek to the left. The girls were projecting their
angelic screens of innocence to reflect Sister's wrath to the boys side. I wished I could
do that! To the right, Jimmy Thibideau chanced a quick smile that almost made me break
ranks to certain doom. George McCrann wouldn’t flinch.We crossed ourselves and
slithered back into our seats. Now it was Sister's turn as she pulled up her sleeves
revealing her bare knuckles. It was Round One.
"Babushkas! Babushkas! How dare you wear a babushka in God's house?!!"
There it was! Forty-nine kids punched against the wall with one verbal shot! That was
the problem. It was a babushka in God’s house. I was sorry, so sorry! It was wrong! I
know I wouldn’t do it again. God forgive me and all the others! If I only knew what
a babushka was! I could confess, Sister would calm down. Oh God! Here it comes again!
Round Two .
"Would Mary wear a babushka to church with Joseph??"
"No Sister!" I cried out with the rest of the class.
What the heck! Sister was staring only to the left. She said "Mary!" A
babushka was a girl thing. Happy days! Here it comes again. Round three.
"What would Mary wear on her head going to church with Joseph and Jesus?"
"A hat, Sister! A hat, Sister! A hat! Hat!" the girls replied.
A knockout in round three. Three shots and twenty girls hit the deck!
Sister told us all of her embarrassment when she saw one of her students come to Sunday
mass with a kerchief over her head instead of a ladylike hat. She felt she was failing the
school, the church and most of all, God. She was too embarrassed to face the other
sisters. Only if all the girls promised never to wear a babushka again would she be able
to face the other sisters.
"We promise! We promise, Sister!"
We kicked our way home that day, diving into the piles of leaves. Johnny grabbed my hat
and Charlie Sullivan knocked me down a peg as usual. Mom was cooking a big pot roast.
Yankees were playing a night game. Sister walked with another nun. The girls got it.
God is in his heaven!
Note:
The story is true! Fathers Flynn and Sullivan, John, George, George, Marilyn, Jimmy,
Peter, Dorothy, Charlie are real, but placed in the story as they fit into my
boy’s mind. I still can’t spell "Thibideau." The maple trees were
beautiful along 113th Ave. I really felt sorry for the girls. I didn’t have a clue as
to what really was going on! Fun stuff!
Charlie |