THE CHURCH, ALTER-BOYS AND RELIGION

How can I describe what it was like to be a Catholic? My earliest memories of being a Catholic were my of my Mom trying to find suitable clothes for us to wear Sunday mornings. Decked out in our Sunday clothes nine kids would walk down the aisle blessing us like little angels (far cry) to the front of the church followed by Mom and Dad. The Perry family filling the church pew at St Anthony's was a familiar sight in our world. Saturdays was confession day if you didn't have any sins you made some up.

The priests wouldn't accept perfection. So each week we went through our list of standbys, I lied, I coveted, I had impure thoughts, etc, etc. We'd pick and choose at random what we would tell the priest in that shadowy box which always reminded me of an outhouse. Then afterwards kneeling at the alter to say the "Our Fathers" or "Hail Marys" the priest dished out in punishment.

                    We all went through the various stages of being a Catholics - First Communion, First Confessions and Confirmation but us brothers really only waited to be old enough to be alter-boys. We studied our Latin for mass till we could recite it from beginning to end. We practiced ringing the bells, carrying and pouring the wine and holding the cross. Was it spiritual, maybe but the knowledge that we'd get silver dollars for serving on special occasions such as weddings and we'd get to go to the annual alter-boys picnic or just being up on the alter in front of friends and family sure helped.

At one point all five Perry brothers served on the altar at the little St. Anthony's church on Farrel Road.

                    Those were the good memories I recall from my religious past but with all good memories I'd be remiss not to tell you of the bad for it was the sum total of all the bad that eventually drove me from church and religion.. When I was six my Mother thought it would be better for us to attend Catholic School instead of the Harbour View Public School we'd all been attending. She registered us in the nearest, which at that time was St. Paul's on Windmill Road run by the nuns known as the Sisters Of Charity. Their idea of charity was to take money from the poor and then embarress them as much as possible. That was the starting point of my eventual break with the Catholic Church.

                    I know I may upset some people by describing my views on the nuns but to describe my youth growing up in North end Dartmouth I have to tell things as I remember them. I won't go so far as to say they were all bad but the ones that were left their scars on my mind that linger to this day. If asked to describe them, harsh words like perverted, physcopathic and just plain mean come to mind. In today's society they would be arrested and charged with child abuse, back then they were only following God's orders.

                    I remember as a child of six wetting my pants and because I didn't go to the washroom at recess being forced to sit in my wet clothes all day as punishment. I remember being singled out and belittled in front of the class if my Mother was late with our tuition. I remember them advocating hatred against all who weren't Catholic. I remember the sting of rulers, pointers or a heavy hand across the back of the head for the least infraction, real or imagined. I remember the children from wealthier parents being selected for special treatment or privileges. I remember being brainwashed with the threat of our souls burning in hell with devils poking us with pitchforks, and I remember the scandal when a nun ran off with the parish priest. Funny I don't remember too much about them teaching of God's love and mercy, of being kind to all fellow man, or of loving thy neighbor if he happened to be a protestant.

                    All that being said I do remember some nuns who were what I believed to be what nuns should be. Caring and nurturing towards the young minds that were placed so faithfully by Catholic parents into their hands. Those nuns practiced what they preached and to those few I offer my thanks and respect. We didn't last too long at St. Pauls and whether it was my Mom fed up with the hypocrisy or financial burden from paying tuition for nine kids by grade three I was back at the Public School in Tufts Cove and happy to be there.