Fred really liked this altar boy gig. Even though he was a senior in high school it still had some appeal. He was the head guy on the Altar Squad, as Father Dave would say. He had done a couple of years in a seminary and had come back home for his junior and senior years at public school. The seminary was okay but he wasn’t sure any more about becoming a priest. He had gone away after eighth grade mainly to please his mom and the former pastor of the parish. But fitting in at St. John the Divine Minor Seminary had been a problem. There was the altercation with the second year college guy in the record room. There was the incident with the faculty wine and liquor closet. There was the handball court smoking group. And, one of the final acts of rebellion was the jockstraps beneath the togas at the Latin Club Expo. That Expo is probably still a legend at St. John, two years later.
The thing about the seminary was the Rule. The Rule was supposedly the code of conduct and it was supposed to be followed willingly and humbly. But the Rule had no room for the kind of fun that Fred enjoyed. And too many head bumps with the Rule got a guy on probation. So after spending the last half of his second year on probation, which was something like house arrest, and one other incident that he was still trying to forget about, Fred decided to drop out. The academic part of the seminary had been rigorous but easy enough for him. And now public school was a piece of cake. He could cut class two or three days a week and still maintain an A average. This is where the head altar boy job came in handy. All Fred had to do was go to the school office and say that he was needed for a funeral or special service at the church and off he’d go. If he really did have a funeral to serve it would only last a couple hours. And Father Dave would pay him a few bucks which would help out when it came to buying a coke or something for Elaine, the current girlfriend. Weddings were also altar boy jobs that came with a little compensation. Sometimes a rich couple might give each of the guys ten bucks. Not bad for a couple hours on a Saturday morning just standing around. Plus an altar boy was in a perfect spot to check out the brides and bridesmaids in their form fitting low cut dresses. It was, after all, the 1960’s now and fashions were much more eye appealing than they had been a few years ago. Maybe it was that Jackie Kennedy influence or something.
On this Tuesday evening in February Fred was getting set up to train and test a few new recruits for the Altar Squad. Sitting in the first two pews were seven young boys from fifth and sixth grade. They were eager but a little bit nervous because tonight was their sixth and final class and after a review they had to pass the test that Fred had devised to make sure they were ready to join the rotation. When Fred had learned how to serve at Mass and other services he had been under the tutelage of old Father Paul, who was now retired. There were no classes and everything was learned on the job which made for some strange services. Father Paul would loudly whisper “Ring the bell, Fred”, and Fred would ring the bell. If his mind was wandering Fred might miss the whispered instruction. Then Father Paul would say, rather loudly, “Ring that damn bell Fred!” But way back then in fifth grade Fred learned the Latin responses and the order of the services. He even learned, on his own, what the Latin meant and the reason the rituals were performed in the way they were. That was one reason old Father Paul thought that Fred would make a good candidate for the priesthood. That extra portion of knowledge and devotion to the job meant a lot to the old guy.
When Fred went to the seminary he got on the serving rotation right away because of his skills. Most guys had to wait until their second year to work on the altar and then only after a lengthy training period. But Fred had tested out of the training. In his second year he had, in spite of his probationary status, been selected to learn the Eastern Orthodox serving method for the priest who taught some of the language classes. He also had been part of the special group that worked some of the big deals at the Cathedral in the city. Working in the city was cool because the group would get quite a bit of free time. So they would all go to the movies or to a diner near the all girl’s Catholic high school and try to pick up someone to make out with. One Saturday afternoon Fred had managed to see two different movies with two different girls and had actually gotten to first base with the second girl. He might have gotten further but an effeminate upper classman had spotted Fred with his hand on the breast of a cute fifteen year old and Fred had been interrupted and ratted out to the Prefect of Students. It was just another in the many steps back to public school.
But now Fred needed to see if any of these little guys could make the cut to be Altar Boys. He singled out the two worst candidates and had them do the hand washing ritual, a tricky little maneuver involving cruets of water and a special towel that could quickly identify incompetence. But these guys did okay; a testament to Fred’s training abilities. The tests moved along quickly and Fred was glad to see that all the guys had done their memorizing and had been attentive to the finer points of the rituals. At the end of the session he congratulated the new servers and passed out the cassocks and surplices that they would take home to their mom’s for cleaning, pressing and name tags. Fred remembered the first time he had carried his server’s vestments home. His mom had been beside herself with pride and she had assured Fred that he would be the sharpest looking altar boy in the parish; and he was.
At the seminary he had continued in that tradition. A black suit and white shirt with a black tie was the uniform for all the high school students during classes. But in the morning before classes and in the late afternoon and evening all the boarding students wore the cassock. And Fred’s was always neatly pressed and fresh, thanks to the weekly delivery of completed laundry from his mom. Maybe if they hadn’t been required to wear that long flowing garment then the final incident that convinced Fred that he was destined for something other than the religious life would never have happened. The incident happened in the Infirmary. Fred was suffering from a severe cold and he had stopped in at the Infirmary to pick up some cough syrup and aspirin. The guy on duty was the same effeminate college student that had ratted him out in the movie theater. He was also the guy that had prompted the trouble in the record room. A couple evenings a week guys would meet in a large room set up with a good hi-fi and comfortable chairs to listen to records. On most record nights Fred skipped the sessions because the usual program was classical or, even worse, operatic music. But on one particular evening the music scheduled was folk music by some of the most popular groups. Not everyone was in favor of this choice. There was a sizeable clique of music snobs who only liked classical, opera, or in a light moment, show music. When Fred arrived there were a few of those guys in attendance and they were being hecklers, making rude comments about the music and generally making it hard for the others to enjoy the program. So Fred, who was really only an average size tenth grader, deciding that these guys were not very formidable and were, basically, sissies, confronted them in a rather contentious way. His words were loud and pretty offensive, with several references to “girlie boys” “poofs” and, worst of all, “homos”. A shocked silence was quickly ended when one of the objects of Fred’s tirade jumped up and attempted to slap Fred in the face. Fred brushed off the slap with his left hand and retaliated with a pretty well placed right cross that sent the college guy to the floor. Fred then walked out and went up to the study hall.
So when he saw that his nemesis was on duty at the Infirmary he almost decided to skip the medicine. But he was hoping for a decent night’s sleep so he went in. The college guy greeted Fred in a kind way and seemed willing to help out. As a matter of fact he said that he was sorry for tormenting Fred and also apologized for the incident in the record room. He said he couldn’t apologize for the movie theater thing because Fred really shouldn’t have had his hand where it was. Then he said that perhaps Fred might need to have his temperature taken and he handed him the thermometer. Fred stuck the thermometer in his mouth and sat down in an easy chair with his head back and his eyes closed. He felt a hand on his knee and when he opened his eyes he saw the college guy standing in front of him with his cassock unbuttoned and wearing nothing else underneath. The guy mumbled something about apologizing in a more meaningful way. Fred, when he thought about it later, didn’t know if his actions were reflexive or instinctive. He did know that they weren’t very saintly. When he realized what was happening he very forcefully raised his right foot up, kicking the semi-naked man squarely in the crotch. He then was on his feet and telling the guy on the floor that if he ever came across his path again he would crush his skull and any other parts that might be exposed. Then Fred calmly walked out of the Infirmary and into the chapel where he prayed for guidance.
Now as a last bit of instruction for his new group of altar recruits, before he sent them home, he told them about the importance of being a team. And he told them that if anything strange or inappropriate happened in the sacristy or anywhere else, even if it was something done by a visiting priest or seminarian, then it was important to go to the team leader or to a parent and tell them all about it. Then Fred said “If I get the word about a problem I’ll take care of it; fully and completely. You guys are my Altar Squad and if God doesn’t protect you, I will.” And he did, at least for a few more months.
Have a fine day.
The thing about the seminary was the Rule. The Rule was supposedly the code of conduct and it was supposed to be followed willingly and humbly. But the Rule had no room for the kind of fun that Fred enjoyed. And too many head bumps with the Rule got a guy on probation. So after spending the last half of his second year on probation, which was something like house arrest, and one other incident that he was still trying to forget about, Fred decided to drop out. The academic part of the seminary had been rigorous but easy enough for him. And now public school was a piece of cake. He could cut class two or three days a week and still maintain an A average. This is where the head altar boy job came in handy. All Fred had to do was go to the school office and say that he was needed for a funeral or special service at the church and off he’d go. If he really did have a funeral to serve it would only last a couple hours. And Father Dave would pay him a few bucks which would help out when it came to buying a coke or something for Elaine, the current girlfriend. Weddings were also altar boy jobs that came with a little compensation. Sometimes a rich couple might give each of the guys ten bucks. Not bad for a couple hours on a Saturday morning just standing around. Plus an altar boy was in a perfect spot to check out the brides and bridesmaids in their form fitting low cut dresses. It was, after all, the 1960’s now and fashions were much more eye appealing than they had been a few years ago. Maybe it was that Jackie Kennedy influence or something.
On this Tuesday evening in February Fred was getting set up to train and test a few new recruits for the Altar Squad. Sitting in the first two pews were seven young boys from fifth and sixth grade. They were eager but a little bit nervous because tonight was their sixth and final class and after a review they had to pass the test that Fred had devised to make sure they were ready to join the rotation. When Fred had learned how to serve at Mass and other services he had been under the tutelage of old Father Paul, who was now retired. There were no classes and everything was learned on the job which made for some strange services. Father Paul would loudly whisper “Ring the bell, Fred”, and Fred would ring the bell. If his mind was wandering Fred might miss the whispered instruction. Then Father Paul would say, rather loudly, “Ring that damn bell Fred!” But way back then in fifth grade Fred learned the Latin responses and the order of the services. He even learned, on his own, what the Latin meant and the reason the rituals were performed in the way they were. That was one reason old Father Paul thought that Fred would make a good candidate for the priesthood. That extra portion of knowledge and devotion to the job meant a lot to the old guy.
When Fred went to the seminary he got on the serving rotation right away because of his skills. Most guys had to wait until their second year to work on the altar and then only after a lengthy training period. But Fred had tested out of the training. In his second year he had, in spite of his probationary status, been selected to learn the Eastern Orthodox serving method for the priest who taught some of the language classes. He also had been part of the special group that worked some of the big deals at the Cathedral in the city. Working in the city was cool because the group would get quite a bit of free time. So they would all go to the movies or to a diner near the all girl’s Catholic high school and try to pick up someone to make out with. One Saturday afternoon Fred had managed to see two different movies with two different girls and had actually gotten to first base with the second girl. He might have gotten further but an effeminate upper classman had spotted Fred with his hand on the breast of a cute fifteen year old and Fred had been interrupted and ratted out to the Prefect of Students. It was just another in the many steps back to public school.
But now Fred needed to see if any of these little guys could make the cut to be Altar Boys. He singled out the two worst candidates and had them do the hand washing ritual, a tricky little maneuver involving cruets of water and a special towel that could quickly identify incompetence. But these guys did okay; a testament to Fred’s training abilities. The tests moved along quickly and Fred was glad to see that all the guys had done their memorizing and had been attentive to the finer points of the rituals. At the end of the session he congratulated the new servers and passed out the cassocks and surplices that they would take home to their mom’s for cleaning, pressing and name tags. Fred remembered the first time he had carried his server’s vestments home. His mom had been beside herself with pride and she had assured Fred that he would be the sharpest looking altar boy in the parish; and he was.
At the seminary he had continued in that tradition. A black suit and white shirt with a black tie was the uniform for all the high school students during classes. But in the morning before classes and in the late afternoon and evening all the boarding students wore the cassock. And Fred’s was always neatly pressed and fresh, thanks to the weekly delivery of completed laundry from his mom. Maybe if they hadn’t been required to wear that long flowing garment then the final incident that convinced Fred that he was destined for something other than the religious life would never have happened. The incident happened in the Infirmary. Fred was suffering from a severe cold and he had stopped in at the Infirmary to pick up some cough syrup and aspirin. The guy on duty was the same effeminate college student that had ratted him out in the movie theater. He was also the guy that had prompted the trouble in the record room. A couple evenings a week guys would meet in a large room set up with a good hi-fi and comfortable chairs to listen to records. On most record nights Fred skipped the sessions because the usual program was classical or, even worse, operatic music. But on one particular evening the music scheduled was folk music by some of the most popular groups. Not everyone was in favor of this choice. There was a sizeable clique of music snobs who only liked classical, opera, or in a light moment, show music. When Fred arrived there were a few of those guys in attendance and they were being hecklers, making rude comments about the music and generally making it hard for the others to enjoy the program. So Fred, who was really only an average size tenth grader, deciding that these guys were not very formidable and were, basically, sissies, confronted them in a rather contentious way. His words were loud and pretty offensive, with several references to “girlie boys” “poofs” and, worst of all, “homos”. A shocked silence was quickly ended when one of the objects of Fred’s tirade jumped up and attempted to slap Fred in the face. Fred brushed off the slap with his left hand and retaliated with a pretty well placed right cross that sent the college guy to the floor. Fred then walked out and went up to the study hall.
So when he saw that his nemesis was on duty at the Infirmary he almost decided to skip the medicine. But he was hoping for a decent night’s sleep so he went in. The college guy greeted Fred in a kind way and seemed willing to help out. As a matter of fact he said that he was sorry for tormenting Fred and also apologized for the incident in the record room. He said he couldn’t apologize for the movie theater thing because Fred really shouldn’t have had his hand where it was. Then he said that perhaps Fred might need to have his temperature taken and he handed him the thermometer. Fred stuck the thermometer in his mouth and sat down in an easy chair with his head back and his eyes closed. He felt a hand on his knee and when he opened his eyes he saw the college guy standing in front of him with his cassock unbuttoned and wearing nothing else underneath. The guy mumbled something about apologizing in a more meaningful way. Fred, when he thought about it later, didn’t know if his actions were reflexive or instinctive. He did know that they weren’t very saintly. When he realized what was happening he very forcefully raised his right foot up, kicking the semi-naked man squarely in the crotch. He then was on his feet and telling the guy on the floor that if he ever came across his path again he would crush his skull and any other parts that might be exposed. Then Fred calmly walked out of the Infirmary and into the chapel where he prayed for guidance.
Now as a last bit of instruction for his new group of altar recruits, before he sent them home, he told them about the importance of being a team. And he told them that if anything strange or inappropriate happened in the sacristy or anywhere else, even if it was something done by a visiting priest or seminarian, then it was important to go to the team leader or to a parent and tell them all about it. Then Fred said “If I get the word about a problem I’ll take care of it; fully and completely. You guys are my Altar Squad and if God doesn’t protect you, I will.” And he did, at least for a few more months.
Have a fine day.
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