11,831. RUDIMENTS, pt. 714

RUDIMENTS, pt. 714

(who was to turn my pages?)

In a previous chapter, three or

four back, I made mention of

arriving at the seminary to see

those guys out back, at work

in the sun, laying pipes and

digging a ditch. It was much 

like the southern chain gangs

I'd learn about some time later,

the prisoners chained, the guards

watching them, rifles in hand.

Of course it bore no true fact

of that, but I connected the two

once I learned about them. My

first 'Freshman' dorm roommate,

of which there were about 6,

meaning 5 plus me  -  it was a

barracks like setting, not much

at all in the way of amenities -

was David Kane, a guy from, as

I recall, and I could be wrong,

Wilmington, Delaware. David

for some reason soon became the

butt of a lot of tweedling humor,

jokes, etc. I never knew why,

except that he was quiet. I kept

out of all that, and always felt bad

a bit for David, though even we 

two never really became friends. 

I used to figure perhaps being

from Delaware, maybe, had 

something to do with it. Delaware

meant nothing to me, I'd had no

exposure to it as a place, at all.
I heard it was tomatoes and dirt
roads, crumbling farms and sheds.

In all other respects, David was

normal  -  clumsier than most,

not very athletic. Maybe that

went into it. A lot of these goofy

seminary guys took an undue

interest in sports. It was only a

few days after that when every

other person seemed to start 

rolling in. And then the big 

surprise  -  late by a few days,

and after we'd all thought the 

room was settled, this guy from

Italy rolls in; some Italian name

that I really can't recall  -  Louie,

Luigi, Salvatore, Antonio. I

don't know. He was from Italy,

straight through, and came in

like gangbusters, language and

accent and all. As it ended up, he

only lasted about three weeks, 

maybe a little more, and was

gone. Maybe it was less than

three; I can't say. But the

cool thing was  -  in the little

dresser that we each got, along

with some closet space and room

for our trunk  - while the rest

of us had socks and underwear,

say, in the top drawer - this guy,

I'll call him Louie, kept a supply

of salami! I kid you not, the

loaf-sized thing of salami, like

a deli has hanging, or a meat

market. He kept 4 or 5 of them,

and they smelled garlicky enough

too. The smell sort of permeated

the room, if you concentrated on

finding it, along with the usual mess

of boys' sweat socks, gym clothes,

sneakers, and the rest. I don't think 

he knew much about any of that,

but he sure knew his salami. I

never saw him eating any of it,

but I was told he sliced pieces off

at will, and chomped. I also seem 

to remember (this may be fanciful)

the big joke around of him also

receiving a re-supply of salami

by mail, once. If that means 3

weeks, OK  -  I guess that would 

or could be a salami a week or so.

-

Some of this gets all hazy, and 

I can never figure out why that

happens. It was, after all, my own

life and events that I lived, as

young as I may have been. But,

in some way, it's all there, just

needing to be smoked out. Parts

of it may overlap, who knows.

Like the mix-up of the years. I'm

certain I recall the first year dorm

thing being the barracks-like set up,

and then the second year getting it

all moved to the 'better' building,

some three-story, federal-style,

heap of bricks, with even larger

group-rooms and metal beds,

almost medical-looking, all

in rows. There was a group

bathroom with like ten sinks,

all connected in a row, mirrors,

showers, stalls, toilets, all that

crud. That was pretty miserable;

a bunch of boys, all about the

same age, but each advancing

differently along the road to

'maturity,' as they'd put it I guess.

It wasn't too cool to have to see.

(Speaking of salami?) Bad joke,

Mr. Writer. Some guys had to

shave, or got into shaving. Others

still had the smoothest skin this

side of a Breck girl. Some fussed

and finagled over themselves,

like Breck girls too, and others,

like me, managed with the most 

cursory swab of nothing but fast.

I hated all that grooming and care

crap  -  never paid it any mind, and

didn't ever care. There was this

one guy, John Banko (died in

prison way later, as a priest 

who'd abused boys, believe it

or not. You can look it up), he

hung around the gym area, and

the dorm area too, always had

his little towel and soap, going

to or from the showers. Probably

three times a day. The guy used

to creep me out, he'd always say,

headed to the showers, 'You know

what they say, 'clean body, clean

mind.' What an ass he was. One

time, I was his page-turner and

assistant and understudy for the

musical accompaniment on the

organ (Hey! don't laugh. I mean

the instrument, like a keyboard),

for one of the theater productions we

were putting on  -  live background

music, etc. In the dark of the theater,

the organist had only the little music

lamp for illumination and I had to 

sit on the bench next to him, reading 

the music score as he played, and

turning the page for him at the

appropriate time. If he'd ever

gotten sick or was a no-show, I'd

be the fill-in. Thank goodness 

that never happened. (I don't 

know who would have turned 

my pages). But, anyway, after

I got the assignment, and the

found out with whom I'd be 

working, (Mr. Clean Creepy Body,

Clean Creepy Mind himself), I

kind of wished I'd never gotten

involved. As it was, it all went

off OK.

-

So, you see what I'm saying?

These are stories, but they're also

my own real life  -  as a stupid,

bedeviled kid. Chucked out on

my own into some ridiculous

environment of religion mixed

with boys, all undergoing at the

same time the adolescent angst

and confusions of whatever goes

down. That, my friends, is what

brings the Lord Jesus Christ to 

each of you, in the Catholic Church

anyway. You can take it from me,

and if you wish, I'll go under oath.

So help me God.