Dad was in bed and mom said, it was time to leave for church 'Peoino go get some money from your father for the collectioin'.
I wake up Dad and tell him, Mommy said give me some money for church, I didn't have to say please whem Mom ordered it. He opens his eyes and rolls overand grabs his pants
from the side chair next to the bed, reaches in and gives me two shiny nickels.
As I head toward the kitchen from the bedroom, I pass Mom's sewing basket and
an idea hits me. For a nickel, I could buy a bottle of Pepsi and for another nickel, I
could buy a package of 5 or 6 small powdered donuts. If given powdered donuts,
you could get me to do anything, say anything or lie about anything! Yes, powdered
donuts were my addiction.
So quietly I go into Mom:s sewing box where she kept her buttons and reasoned
that if I took 2 shiny metal buttons, I could confuse Mom when they came to collect
money then afterward, I could celebrate with a Pepsi and donuts! I couldn't believe
my genius had taken me so far!
The Visitation Church was a beautiful church, with marble floors and columns,
.stained glass windows and a large tower that sat over the back entrance. There
were additional altars with many statues gracing the side atsles.
Being a large churchy with a school, and about 5 priests, the ushers always dressed
to the nlnes1 and when collecting1 had these fon:g handles collection baskets made
of what looked like wicker.
Mom and I sat, she in deep meditation and prayer: and me deep into whether .or not
I could scale the grotto wall behind the main altar. Suddenly I noticed the ushers
With the collection baskets and reached for my first button. As the basket slid under
my noset I slipped in the first of the shiny buttons. Mom deposited her' money, and
went back into her prayers (probably for my soul) and said nothing
Ah, my plan was working!!!
Donuts for sure!
The second cofJection comes, and like the first, I slip in the other shiny metal
buttonr Mom deposits her mone½ and once· again goes info deep pray-filled
pleading for my wicked soul. Oh! The joy of deep quiet celebration knowing there
were donuts soon in the horizon, glory is. to God!
Mass is over and as we walk home I start to talk to Mom,, but she is not answering
me. I figured her maternal instincts for survival have kicked in. This goes on for a
few blocks nothing being said by Mom. We climb the steps to our second-floor
aparlment when I announce to Mom that 1 am going downstairs for a while. (Donuts
on my mind)
Suddenly. J feel this grip on my shoulder and .the words: "Embarrass n1e in church?"
Whack, dragging me into the apartment (:How dare you embarrass me in the
church of all places?" Whack, whack,. and whack. If nothing else at this critical moment,
she was certainly hitting the target!
This went on all the rest of Sunday morning, every time she saw me, .. "Embarrass
me in church?" Whack, and more whacks. Dad kept a low profile; he didn't want to
get in the way of her hand wacking me. No need to interrupt. That whole morning and early afternoon,
I started to pray out of self-preservation and rescue, hoping for company to
show up immediatefyy if not sooner.
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