Nothing much on Sunday mornings cartoon-wise, aside from Davey and Goliath...
which was a little too preachy and lacked the slapstick, pie-in-the-face humor this kid required of her animated entertainment.
Sunday also meant that I had to get dressed up and go to church.
I was a fidgety kid who was constantly feeding my nerves and touching everything, so sitting still in a hard wooden pew listening to a man who looked he could be God's Uncle Bob was torture.
I never paid much attention to Father as he said Mass.
My wild imagination wandered elsewhere.
Hats, hairstyles, the way Mr. Davis kept blessing himself
and the way Mrs. Mangiotti's feet looked like hams stuffed into her strappy shoes.
I wandered off in the details of the stained glass windows.
Each beautifully colored window honored a saint, and at first glance it looked like a truly marvelous, gold crowned, red robed kinda life.
Looking closer, each saint was either in some state of unimaginable torture, getting rained on by tongues of fire, or they had their hands raised heavenward with looks of agony on their faces as if to say,
"Why me, God?"
"In honor of our Lord, Jesus Christ" was written in very fancy Gothic lettering above each window.
That kind of lettering always reminded me of Halloween and the opening credits to Dark Shadows.
That and the ever present organ music.
Truth be told I thought there was some sort of connection between Dracula and television priest,Bishop Fulton Sheen.
I remember expressing my displeasure to my Grandma one day in church. I was unhappy with the way God was treating the saints, and that the torture they suffered was honored on stained glass windows.
Who does this? I asked. Who hangs pictures and statues of their son being crucified and their friends being burned, or maimed or executed in their homes?
And If you went into such a home would you want to stay?
without missing a beat she said:
" Sweetheart, you see
you gotta go through hell to get to heaven".
Rene ~ 2010
To join Magpie Tales creative writing group click here.
and I'm here to tell you, it's all true.
ReplyDeletehell to heaven.
i used to sit in church and imagine it being taken over by 'bad me' and made plans on jumping from the balcony, grabbing the chandelier as i saved the day..yep...smiles.
ReplyDeleteWe must have been sitting in the same pew. You reminded me of the cankle lady.
ReplyDeleteI now wonder if anyone listened to the pastor or priest?
You Grandma was Steve Miller? Wow!
ReplyDeleteRene, this is wonderful. If I had a dime for every fantasy I created in my head during Sunday after Sunday sitting in a church pew, I would be very rich.
ReplyDeleteI usually sat between two passing written tales of the week back and forth, catching glimpses of those around with each crinkle of their papers.
ReplyDeleteI'm surprised you were not
ReplyDeletefarmed out to the pious volunteers
who manned the Children's Church
rooms, where games and play are
turned into religious lesson, so that
when you were "allowed" to emerge
in the big girl sanctuary, your
indoctrination would have been
complete, and your active mind would
have been quieted after inundation
of doctrine, mandates, and prickly
platitudes. Your story grabbed all
of us, and the free thinkers clap
with both hands.
Grandmas and Grandpas have a way of getting straight to the point ....nice Magpie...bkm
ReplyDeleteI always think hell and heaven are two sides of the same coin - life! It all depends on your viewpoint!
ReplyDeleteWise, wise woman.
ReplyDeleteCheers,
Casey
Wonderful, Rene. I love your grandma. I remember Davy and Goliath on Sunday mornings!
ReplyDeletesweet.
ReplyDeleteyour words evoke beautiful memories of mine.
I listened to the pastor. His first language wasn't English and he had a funny way of mixing up his nouns and verbs. One time, for instance, he meant to say: the person in the back with the his hand raised, but instead said: the person with his hand up his butt. Every sermon was hilarious. The funniest thing was that he didn't even know.
ReplyDeleteHope you have an awesome Christmas Rene! :-)
ReplyDelete"and the way Mrs. Mangiotti's feet looked like hams stuffed into her strappy shoes."
ReplyDelete--Ha, Rene, you could be describing some ladies in my family here. LOl.What a great description.
i used to look at the stain glass too and aside from the one of Christ surrounded my angels, i woudl often think I am so unworthy and jsut thought there is no way I could have deon those things but then again, if God calls you adn you know it;s God, maybe so.
I had to laugh at your Dracula image. LOL.
ReplyDeleteWonderful fidgety point of view.