Getting Old Is No Fun

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For as long as I remember I have been bad. Nearly expelled from a Catholic elementary school I had punched a nun in the stomach.  She hit me first.  Making up sins to tell the priest in confession–my penance was so long I pissed while kneeling at the altar.  For doing this I may not go straight to heaven.  At school lunch I would take other kids’ food. This lead to weight gain since I mostly took cookies. I was obsessed with girls bodies, always picturing in my mind what they looked like naked. This was not a learned behavior. It came to me naturally.

As I have gotten much older, I still have bad thoughts–I just don’t act on them. Getting old is no fun.

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Corporal Punishment

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Mrs. Moore was an old woman, yet built like a sumo wrestler. She was my fifth grade teacher at St. Johns. I remember her immense ankles, and the white socks and black shoes that she wore every day.
She caught me passing a folded piece of paper to Cathy Smith. I had drawn a stick figure with a big penis.
I could see the anger in Mrs. Moore’s face when she looked at it. She picked me up and started shaking me, my head and legs flopping like a rag doll. Then she let go, and I fell to the floor.
I tried to walk away from her. I walked such a crooked line my classmates laughed–they thought I was joking.
I was always joking. She literally shook the shit out of me–I had checked my underwear afterward.

I told my mother who said, “You have gotten so fat, how could anybody pick you up?”
I guess I was a rascal and got what I deserved,
but I do think my life since the fifth grade has been a little shaky.

Sins of a Fourth Grader

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Every third Friday of the month, it was required that all fourth graders at St Johns Elementary go to confession. We had to go into a dark booth where a priest would slide back a small door, hear our sins, and give us our penance.
You had to have your sins ready before you went in.

One visit I didn’t have them ready, so I made some up.
“Father, I was looking up Katy Snoots’ dress, I jabbed a pencil in the teacher’s rear end, and I waited for a quiet moment in class and farted.”

The penance was quite tough: thirty Hail Marys, thirty Our Fathers.
To leave the church without saying these prayers was a mortal sin. Getting close to the last prayer I had a tremendous urge to pee. I was the only one kneeling at the altar and not wanting to wet my pants, I pulled down my zipper and let it go. A puddle formed at the feet of a statue of Mother Mary. This sin was never confessed.
One day I may enter the fiery gates of hell.

Confessions of a Fourth Grader

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It was required by all fourth graders at St Johns Elementary that we go to confession every third Friday of the month. We had to go into a dark booth where a priest would slide back a small door, hear our sins, and give us our penance.
You had to have your sins ready before you went in.

One visit I didn’t have them ready so I made some up.
“Father, I was looking up Katy Snoots’ dress, I jabbed a pencil in the teachers rear end, and I waited for a quiet moment in class and farted.”

The penance was quite tough: thirty hail Marys, thirty Our Fathers.
To leave the church without saying these prayers was a mortal sin. Getting close to the last prayer I had a tremendous urge to pee. I was the only one kneeling at the altar and not wanting to wet my pants I pulled down my zipper and let it go. A puddle formed at the feet of a statue of Mother Mary. This sin was never told.
One day I may enter the fiery gates of hell.