Wednesday, October 31, 2012

First Holy Communion Mishaps


Four weeks ago, on October 3, I shared with you the setting for my reception of First Holy Communion. If you didn’t get a chance to read that posting or if you’ve forgotten it, please reread it in preparation for today’s posting. Thank you.
            In May 1944, the first graders and myself practiced daily for our First Holy Communion. After school on Friday, I lightheartedly played cowboys and cattle rustlers in the side yard by our house. Lying on the ground was an old telephone pole.
            On top of the pole balanced a footlong wooden board. Into this two-by-four my little brother had pounded a three-inch nail. Its large flat head stuck up about two inches above the board’s surface.


Note that the nail in my 1944 board 
was not on the head of the board 
but on the flat long side.

            Gleefully, I pretended to be Gene Autry riding Champion. My horse and I repeatedly leaped the telephone pole to catch those dastardly rustlers as they herded our stolen cows into the purple-shadowed canyons and across the sun-baked mesas.
            While in the air during one mighty leap, Champion missed his footing and I fell hard onto the two-by-four and its stud.
            The nail head punctured the skin right below my kneecap, splintering the crown of my shinbone. Tears trickled my face as I pushed myself upright. The dangling two-by-four armored my shinbone, hobbling me.
            Unable to stand, I jerked the board away from my leg. The offending nail head brought with it a thick glob of fatty yellow tissue. Oily fluid drained from the hole in my knee and down my shin. Frightened, I stumbled to my feet, but could hardly walk.
            Mom rushed me to the doctor’s office. He cut away the fatty tissue, explaining that my leg would stiffen so I couldn’t bend it for a few days, but otherwise I was fine. After giving me a tetanus shot, he sent us home. 
            Two days later, I told Barbara Ann, my chaperone and best friend, about my stiff knee. Then we processed into Saint Mary’s Catholic Church with the other communicants.


            At the appropriate time, the first graders, our chaperons, and I entered the sanctuary. Row by row, we ascended the eight steps up to the altar. The first row of communicants then knelt on the top step. The middle row followed suit on its step. The third knelt. Moments later, the fourth row—my row—knelt on the bottom step.
            I stood.
            And Barbara Ann?
            She tugged the hem of my first communion dress and loudly whispered, “We’re supposed to kneel!”
            I couldn’t. The knee was as stiff as that two-by-four it had been attached to.
            Father Hennessey placed a communion wafer on the tongues of the kneeling children in the front row. They returned to their seats. The next three rows stood. Moved upward. Knelt.
            I stood.
            Once again, Barbara Ann tugged. “Get down! Kneel!” Her words echoed down the nave. I heard tittering.
            Father Hennessey frowned, then looked down at me benignly. I tried to brush away Barbara Ann’s hand. She tugged harder. “Down!”
            The second row received communion and left the sanctuary. The next two rows rose and moved up two steps. The first row knelt as did my row.
            Aware that everyone must be looking at me, I tried to get my knee to bend. It refused. Urgency threaded her voice as Barbara Ann shouted, “Kneel! Dolores! We’re supposed to kneel!”
            The chalice shook in Father Hennessey’s hands and tilted. The communion wafers came close to spilling out. He jerked the chalice upright, frowned at Barbara Ann, and began to place a wafer on the tongue of each kneeling child in the top row.
            They, too, returned to their pews.
            Finally . . . FINALLY . . . my row rose, stepped upward, and knelt.
            I stood.
            Laughter rolled like a wave down the nave and up into the sanctuary.
            “Kneel! I’m telling you you’re supposed to kneel!” Barbara Ann’s shrill whisper shook the rafters. She tugged at my dress. Part of the skirt ripped from the waist. It dangled toward my ankles.
            Father Hennessey placed the communion wafer on my tongue. The other children in my row stood. We returned to our seats. They knelt. I sat while in all innocence we gave thanksgiving for the gift we’d just received.
            At the end of Mass, we filed out, stood on the front steps of Saint Mary’s, and had our photograph taken. Here it is. And there am I in the front row with the bandage on my knee.


            I hope that if any of my classmates are reading this today they will not be annoyed that I posted our picture here . . . nor will the photographer from sixty-eight years ago. It surely represents a time and a place that is long gone but also long remembered. Peace.

The first photograph is from Wikipedia.

49 comments:

  1. I love the story and the photo. One's childhood should be rife with stories of not conforming, intended or not.

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    1. Dear Teresa, I was often an intended rebel, but often, also, I longed to be part of the popular group. That's how childhood is, I suppose, swinging back and forth between individuality and the group think. Peace.

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  2. Oh, Dee, I have looked forward to reading this, and it certainly did not disappoint! My goodness, that sounds like it could be a terrific screenplay!

    I do hope your knee healed without further complications- that made me cringe. If that is Father Hennessey in the back, he looks rather glad the whole affair is over-

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    1. Dear Shelly, I'm relieved that you're not disappointed. I wasn't sure I could pull off this story and have it humorous. My knee gave me no more trouble until about two years ago when a surgeon did a total knee replacement and asked me when I'd splinted the crown of the bone. I truly never knew nor did my childhood doctor.

      As to Father Hennessey. Like you, I think he was glad it was over. He was a wonderful Irish priest, but the burdens of that parish took a lot out of him. Peace.

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  3. What a wonderful story, Dee! I'm typing this with a broad grin on my face at the thought of you doing your own thing, as we would say now, amid your friend's efforts to get you to conform. And how sweet you look with your peep-toe sandals and long veil. :-)

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    1. Dear Perpetua, I'm glad you're smiling! I was hoping I could make this as funny as it truly was. Barb was trying so hard to get me to kneel. She so wanted the ceremony to be perfect. I treasured those peep-toe sandals and I still have the dress and the veil. Mom made them and kept them for me. Peace.

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  4. Oh poor Dee, just at a time when we don't want to stand out and be different. The photo is lovely and you have inspired me to write at least one story from my 1940s childhood.

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    1. Dear Inger, I'm so pleased that this story from my childhood has inspired you to write one from yours. That's exactly what I hope my stories will do. Peace.

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  5. You were a beautiful child, with or without the bandage!

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    1. Dear Fishducky, I've always been clumsy and many of my childhood pictures show me with a bandage on my knee or leg or arm! Peace.

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  6. Oh, dear. I think your poor friend just about went nuts trying to get you to kneel!

    Love,
    Janie

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    1. Dear Janie, yes, Barbara Ann was trying to hard. She and I have remained friends but she has no memory of this. I think I remember it because I so wanted to kneel and be like the other children and I couldn't. Peace.

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  7. What a wonderful, wonderful story you have told us. And yes, I have to agree with fishducky - you were beautiful, with the bandage, and the uneven hem. Thank you. Lots.

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    1. Dear EC, I'm so glad you enjoyed the story, uneven hem and all! Thank you for the kind words, but I never felt like a beautiful child. Parents at that time wanted their children to be modest and humble and so we received few compliments.

      But Mom and Dad always did say to me, "Dolores, you can do anything you set your mind to." That sort of confidence gave me the courage to do many things during my life and I'll always be grateful to them for believing in me. Peace.

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  8. Ouch! That must have really hurt.

    You told that story so well. I love the picture of your first communion class. You certainly were a beautiful child. The smaller girl next to you though does not look too happy about having her picture taken. I would imagine that with your wonderful memory that you would know all those children's names.

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    1. Dear Arleen, I don't remember the pain or if I yelled out but I suppose it truly must have hurt a lot. As to remembering the names: I don't remember the names of all the first graders because I was in second grade. But I can go through and find all the second graders and name them. We were in school together--nearly all of us--for twelve years. Peace.

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  9. What an endearing memory, Dee! I had to smile at Barbara Ann's frantic efforts to get you to conform despite your injury. Receiving First Holy Communion your way was a triumph! And I hope that knee injury healed well and hasn't caused you problems since.

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    1. Dear Kathy, yes, the knee injury healed well and I had no trouble at all until I was 74 and the knee simply gave out and I had a total knee replacement. So no problems for 66 years!!!!! I'm glad you liked this memory. Do you have any similar ones? Peace.

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  10. ouch, how's your knee?? MAN that must have hurt.

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    1. Dear Mim, you know I don't remember how much it hurt. I can just remember that board sticking out of my knee! Peace.

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  11. At first, dear Dee, I cringed at your injury; the nail, the board, the skin. You poor thing. Then, I must admit to laughing out loud at your description of Barbara Ann, poor Father Hennessey, and your uncooperative knee! I was like the congregants, giggling from behind.

    You did it, Dee. You kept me in suspense, like Dickens in his serialized stories, I waited and watched and here you are with a most delightfully told tale.

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    1. Dear Penny, I'm so tickled you liked the story. It was a long wait and the more time passed the more I doubted if I could do the story justice. So I'm relieved to know that it made you laugh. To say my name is Charles Dickens in the same breath! Wow! and Double Wow! Peace,

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  12. Great story Dee, the graphic description of your accident made me feel a bit wobbly in the knees.

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    1. Hello, thanks so much for stopping by. While you are taking trips to archeological digs in Turkey, I'm digging through my past life and discovering the bare bones of my growing up! Don't try to walk around on those wobbly knees! Have some good English tea or Turkish coffee! Peace.

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  13. I'm sorry your knee got injured. That must have hurt terribly.

    Monarch, Cleopatra, and I absolutely loved this hilarious story. It was completely worth the wait.
    Also, you were so beautiful then and now. :)

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    1. Dear Elisa, I can't remember if the knee hurt or not. I can just remember that yellow fatty "stuff" sticking out! And the fluid flowing down my leg. I'm glad Monarch, Cleo, and you loved the story. As to being beautiful--well, that's all in the eyes of the beholders! But thank you for beholding! Peace.

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  14. Hi Dee, What a neat post... I read both of them... First Communion was very special, wasn't it???? I love the photos showing all of the children all dressed up. Cute!!!!!

    I have a picture of me taken at my Kindergarten graduation (in about 1948)... I had a long white dress on and was carrying a flower....

    So sorry that you injured your knee.... Was there permanent damage???? I had a meniscus tear in my left knee and had surgery in 2010....

    Thanks for a great story... Aren't memories wonderful????
    Hugs,
    Betsy

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    1. Dear Betsy, I'm so glad to find a comment from you. I visited your blog today and when I go there I know I'm always going to see beautiful photographs of nature. You take so much joy in life.

      A meniscus tear can be so painful. I've had that surgery. A few years later--in 2010--I had a total right knee replacement because of injuring my knee while getting the Minnesota house ready to sell. So do take care of yourself.

      And yes, memories are like a warm fire on a chilly night. Peace.

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  15. What a beautiful picture of all of your group in your white dresses and suits. Somewhere I have a similar picture from my first communion, but I don' have a good story to go with it.

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    1. Dear #1Nana, thanks so much for stopping by. Now I need to go to your blog and discover the wonders of your writing. I still have that white dress, which my mother made for me. It and the veil and a dress that I wore one Easter and dearly loved have all been cleaned and hang in a cleaning bag. I have no idea what I will ever do with them as I have no children, but somehow I treasure them.

      I bet that picture of yours brings back memories. Peace.

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    2. Dear Jann, I'm sorry that I didn't recognize your blog name. I was at one of your blogs today and was so impressed with what you wrote about your voting for President Obama.

      I got the name "Jann" from reading about the get-together of you and five other bloggers in Washington a few weeks ago. Ever since, I've enjoyed your blog. Thanks for stopping by mine. That delights me. Peace.

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  16. What a great story..I was actually laughing..Yes the things we do and have to put on a good front no matter how bad it hurts.

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    1. Dear Star1, thank you so much for stopping by. I'll visit your blog tomorrow. I see that in the icon by your name there is a dog. So I'm thinking that you, too, love animals. How blessed we are when they are part of our lives. Our families.

      I was putting up a good front, but I think the knee was aching a little. I have a vague recollection of that. Peace.

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  17. What a great story..you had me laughing, takes a person with wide shoulders to handle that the way you did..I remember many yrs. ago that i fell thru a barb wire fence and cut my foot really bad, messed up my ankle..I knew that i was going to get in trouble big time from my dad..I knew i had to walk in that house and act like nothing was wrong..It took every thing i had in me and i pulled it off..

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    1. Dear Karlene, thanks so much for stopping by and for sharing your barb-wire story. I surely hope that you didn't get an infection in that foot. Did you put peroxide on it and bandage it? Or did you show your mom and then she took you to the doctor for stitches? That acting like nothing is wrong sure takes a lot out of us! But pulling it off is like a warm sip of Oolong tea--my favorite! Peace.

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  18. I was so glad to get to the end and realize you didn't get scolded! I can only imagine how your heart must have been thumping as the time for you to kneel came close! I picture you as such a little girl at that point, and having the courage to keep going was pretty amazing, Dee. You had a lot of strength as a child. I really do love the photo of you and your little group of friends. I have a similar picture taken at just about the same age with all my little Sunday School friends lined up like that. Those are precious times. This was a funny story somewhat at your expense. I think you could have been so badly hurt, but your effort combined with Barbara Ann's zeal makes for a very good story! oxo

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    1. Dear Debra, Mom had explained to Sister Mary Anne and Father Hennessey that I wouldn't be able to kneel and so there were no surprises for them--except for Barbara Ann wanting to ensure we did this right!. Both Mom and I had explained to Barbara Ann about the accident, but she didn't truly understand and so we got this funny story. When I look at the way I'm holding the flowers--lilies of the valley . . . the way they are listing . . . I suspect that I wasn't feeling all that well!

      I'm glad you like the photograph. I have others that I'll ultimately share of our graduating class and prom. Peace.

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  19. Oh, the embarrassing things children endure. Great story, Dee.

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    1. Dear Pam, I'm glad you liked the story. I've always liked to tell it. When I recalled it to Barbara Ann two years ago, she had no memory of it. But then that's how we remember--mostly what directly happened to us. How we were affected. And I don't think that Sister Mary Anne or Father Hennessey scolded Barb for trying to do what she had been taught was the right thing. Peace.

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  20. Oh, how painful that was. Cringing as I read this, I hoped you did not have any long lasting effects.

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    1. Dear Susan, no long-lasting effects that I've ever been aware of. I was soon able to kneel again and throughout grade and high school and college, I attended daily Mass and there used to be a lot of kneeling during a Roman Catholic Mass. Then I was in the convent for 8 1/2 years and sometimes attended two masses a day! So lots and lots of kneeling with no problems. Thank you for your concern. Peace.

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  21. Ow ow ow ow ow ow!!!! What a great story and so wonderful you had the photo to commemorate it.

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    1. Dear Melissa, yes, I treasure that photograph. I hope all is going well for you in the RV. Peace.

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  22. Poor Dolores.
    At the time it must have been the most embarrassing thing to happen and adding insult and derision to injury; but today you have made a funny story out of it. Good for you.

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    1. Dear Friko, you know I really don't remember the pain but I do remember feeling embarrassed because I couldn't kneel. For the most part I've always been able to ultimately see the humor in anything that's happened to me. That's a blessing. Peace.

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  23. I didn't mind being unconventional--anywhere but in church where I preferred to be invisible! I think I was afraid that if I was ever going to be noticeable to God it would have to be at church, you know? ;)

    I can't believe that you didn't have trouble with that knee for 66 years! Wow! That is truly amazing to me.

    You look so pretty in the picture. I'm glad nobody got in any trouble over it, even if you did end up with a torn dress and an embarrassing memory. :)

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    1. Dear Rita, yes, when I was a child I, too, thought that God could truly see everything I did in church!

      I've never thought about it before, but the knee thing really is amazing, isn't it? All that kneeling as a nun and no problems. It was only when I had the total knee replacement that the doctor asked me afterward when I had shattered the head of the bone. And then I remembered this accident.

      No one got in trouble. Father Hennessey was a mild man. He understood children as well as adults. Peace.

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  24. Oh, the experiences we have as children. We're so unaware of the dangers posed by the most innocent activities when we don't realize events can go awry as with your protruding nail mishap. Must have been extremely painful though we don't always recall as the years pass. I was concerned you would somehow be forced to kneel and was relieved when that didn't happen.

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    1. Dear Joared, Father Hennessey totally understood when my mother explained it to him on the day before the celebration. And Sister Mary Anne understood also. But, oh, I so wanted to do just as the other first communicants were doing! Peace.

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