8694. THINGS ARE DIFFERENT NOW #192

192. 'PALS IN THE JOINT'

There were a few siblings

at the seminary  -  3 or 4

years apart. The fellow I

mentioned yesterday, from

Plainfield, Joe Vouglas, and

his brother, 3 years younger,

Dennis. Then there were the

two Mosca kids  -  Paul and

maybe Jim, I forget. It must

have been, I always thought,

pretty funny to have two of

your kids in the joint  -  I

know that meant 'prisons',

from old movies, but who

cared. The households

these kids came from

must have thought, that,

maybe, having 'Lik-M-Aid'

for candy treats was really

wild stuff. This one younger

Mosca kid was a trip  - 'Pauley'

was the reference. There was,

once each year, in early Fall

(again pretty weird for a

schoolful of boys), a 'Talent

Show'. The usual stuff  - 

early guitar learners, a piano

or two, a small music group.

etc. No tap-dancing or ballet,

that I ever saw. This Pauley

guy  -  small, dark, Italian -

for two years in a row (then

he was gone) sang his most

emotive, almost horridly

sentimental and foppish

version of 'You'll Never

Walk Alone.' I mean to the

rafters. It was terrible, girlish,

weak-waisted. I don't know if

you know that song, or if it's

even meant to be religious or

what, but this kid played it for

all get-out. Blasting. A screaming

crescendo  - which is pretty

much all the song is anyway

a long crescendo. "When you

walk through a storm, hold

your head up high, and don't be

afraid of the dark. At the end

of the storm is a golden sky,

and the sweet, happy song

of the lark. Hold on, hold on,

with faith in your heart,

'cause you'll never walk

alone. You'll  N-E-V-E-R

walk alone!!!!" Use your

imagination anyway then;

this little punk Guido, 5'4",

dressed like a saint, blasting

out this stupid, trite song. I

always hoped the damn

lark would just poop on

him and fly off.

-

Anyway, this talent show

was pretty tired stuff. Early

on, each school season.

Personally, I used to think

it was a way for the priests

and brothers to get a good

look at the 'new talent' they'd

be dealing with that year.

Kind of a 'scan' of the most

active birds in the nest. I

used to just sit there, bored

as all get out. I played

the piano, OK, well enough,

pretty decently, but damned

if I was nervy enough to

get up there and show it

off. Eventually I did become

the 'page turner' for some

piano recitalist guy there -

John Banko, a senior then. I'd

sit next to him on the stupid

piano bench while was playing

Brahms or Rachmaninoff or

whatever, and I'd have to

read the music along with

him and turn the music

page for him so there was

no let-up. It too was boring.

John later died in prison,

sentenced in 2002, and

doing at least 18 years, in 

one of those priests-in-jail-

after-molesting- boys court

judgments. Yikes again. He

was from Milford, which is

North Jersey, some church

or other where he was Pastor,

but he died, oddly enough, in

the sex-offender's prison unit

at Rahway, about 1/2 mile from

my house now. Very weird.
This happened in three or so cases,
actually of priest-people I may have
known or crossed paths with.
It was always too bad, in fact,
horrid, and I won't say much
more about that. Creatures that
we are, we all live strangely.

-

Now, I need to take a minute 

here to say something, or 

maybe also to use this point 

to end all this seminary stuff.

I hold those years dear, I am

not bitter or vindictive over

any of this  -  and I just write

of it here because it comes 

through and I want to put it 

down. It's my story, and not

too many others would have it

to tell even if they did try to.

Really, I don't care two whits 

about any of it, and really didn't

then. It was all silliness, like

going to clown school. Fun at

the waffle stand, if you only

knew how to withstand it. 

There was very little to do 

with 'religion' and so many

other things were entwined 

and woven into it. So, as I

mention things, it's kind of 

with the detachment of 

distance and the distance

of writing. This is true. I'm

speaking real. Funniest thing

in the world  -  the last time 

I was there for a visit (the old

original buildings, ours, I had

been advised, were about to be

torn down). The place had become 

Camden County College now, 

and was modernizing and 

expanding. We walked in an

open door, for the theater and

auditorium. In the lobby, a

malfunctioning pretzel machine

ate my wife's dollar bill. She 

began pounding on the side 

of the machine. Someone 

called the cops. Security came.

Took us in, questioning us,

separately. Made us identify 

the vehicle we'd arrived in  -  

and then went out and checked 

for verification of what we'd 

just said said! Copied our

licenses, and said if we were

ever found on 'campus' again,

we'd be arrested. Believe that

shit? I said we were only there

because "I'd grown up here when

it was a seminary and wished to

see the old buildings before they

were gone." He chuckled, the

stupid rent-a-cop campus jerk,

and said 'It'll be a few months 

yet; don't come back.'

-
That all sure was strange 
scene, exactly as if I'd landed 
from another world, to this 
horrible, secular, world of 
warts and wrinkles and rules 
and regulations, and the people 
who do absolutely nothing
about life except follow them.
These were still, to me, all my
buildings  -  especially for that 
one with the cheating vending 
machines. For us to be so 
unceremoniously  tossed and
 turned out was a painful scene.
-
So, I'll leave it there (oh, 

you know I won't, right?).  

What it did prepare me for 

were the next two major 

hurdles in my life : the 

duplicity and stupidity

of local 'Government' 

schooling - high school, 

and then, in a bit, NYC 

itself. New York City is

a double ended battleship. 

At one end you have the

most avant-garde, supposedly

forward-looking and brash

phalanx of art and music 

and literature and thought.

While at the other end is the

most servile, old-line, and

all that old-world religious 

slavishness; leftover creeds 

and practices, and all that 

swirling cross-current

of ancient beliefs and 

manners. Pretty weird. 

I've often gotten by in 

life because of a knowledge

gleaned from knowing it 

and having seen it, from 

both sides. That's how it 

it was when I got 

out of 'the joint'.