12,638. RUDIMENTS, pt. 993

RUDIMENTS, pt. 993

(life's funny mysteries)

Initially, I had little idea

of basic things. I washed

my face, but that was as

far as anything special

went. Kids don't much care

about that stuff, normal

boy-kids anyway. We'd play

outside or kill each other

in weird and furious football

games, or have scratch-team

baseball tournies at the

school year. Just plain old

sweat never meant much.

Thirst? Mostly we drank

whatever water we could

get from the nearest hose.

That's all considered gross

now; everyone walks around

with their own little bottles of

special water, and claim that

any warm hose water gives

dysentery or something. For

the life of me I can't remember

any special stuff about washing

up, showers, or even changing

clothes a lot. I guess it all did

occur, but I was on remote.

Anyway, once I did get to the

seminary, it got instantly crazy.

First, at home, we got, the

Summer before it started, this

weird list of things to bring.

It was an eye-opener : the

number of dress shirts, white

shirts, pairs of pants (they were

never a 'pair,' and it just meant

one pants, but I never figured

that. I always figured, if they're

going to call them pants, plural,

and a 'pair,' they must really

just mean legs, of which each

pants has two). It was like 12

pairs of pants, 18 dress shirts;

crazy stuff I'd never heard of.

Plus the usual socks, underwear,

shoes, sneakers, gym stuff. I

had never given a second thought

to any of that crap. My mother got

frantic over cost. My father just

made a face, like about guy things

that never go like this. He kind

of hated this entire scene; thought

he'd lost a son to the effeminate

side of the holly-roller contingent.

(He really didn't. I was still 'Manly').

-

He was more right than he knew

though; all this seminary stuff was

pretty futzy. I particularly recall

the difference that I learned about

fabrics. No one even had to point

it out. All my clothes were junky;

cheap fabric, secondary weaves

and sheens; everything simply

looked ratty up against these

wealthier guys who'd have coarse

weave white Oxford shirts, great

fit, collars with nice buttons, cool

looking belts and shoes. Pants that

were always classy and well-fitting.

By contrast I was a class-A mistake;

a clothing slob. Probably Leo

Benjamin, from Maine, ran an

equal second to me. He didn't care

about that stuff either, and I'm sure

his home-life up in Maine didn't

include any of that elitist and

class-conscious clothing stuff.

BUT, a lot of that was what they

were about. I can't call it pretense,

because I really think their aims

were good, clear, and pure. It was

just a part of that (somehow)

proper and traditional schoolboy

stuff, with headmasters and staid

procedures and all, except that

in this case it also had a strong

line into the Papist and Catholic

operative traditions. Oddly enough,

in this case too it also allowed

Broadway show tunes, folk music,

jazz, and whatever else there was,

though I really never did hear

classical music except for liturgical

stuff. We, in turn, had to live all

this in shirts and ties, like little

rich kids; sport jackets and the

whole bit. It was, need I say

again, crazy. I don't know if

you may know what Gregorian

Chant is, but we did that too!

It's a cool, polyphonic kind of

multi-layered voice chant, in

Latin. Unless you knew the

Latin we were learning, or had

this church stuff memorized,

you wouldn't really catch on

to what the words were about,

but it sure sounded cool. Some

of the time anyway. I used to

wonder if it ever had been done

in English, and then I'd think of

an equivalent to it, surely though

dispersing the magic. It would be

about on par, with 230 voices,

singing at once, in different levels

and pitch to : "Ralph took the hammer,

and has he gone up to the Lord,

where I too will dwell, with hope of

my someday soon, and he prepares

to meet the Lord and Savior. May

I meet Him too..." It went like that.

High-minded and seriously religious

stuff. Catacombs, caves, and hidden

Christian enclaves in ancient Rome.

On some days it was all just pretty

stunning; I could almost imagine

those voices and people getting

thrown to the lions.

-

In the seminary, this entire hygiene

and cleanliness thing came to the

fore too. Not just laundry, which

was seemingly endless. Some crazy

laundry service truck would come,

weekly, like Mondays, and the

Laundry Crew (we all got assigned

to it on rotating schedules), would

have to heave everyone's laundry bags

down a few flights of stairs and help

load the big laundry truck, and then

in a few days it would come back, and

we'd have to get them all out and readied

for distribution. We each had to keep a

little bank account of our own, at the 

office 'bank,' and this laundry service 

thing came  out of that, like 7 bucks a

week maybe; it varied too.  Everyone,

using that initial clothing list, also

had to have a laundry bag of their

own, or two, for this weekly task.

AND, every piece of personal

clothing  -  every  -  had to have

your name tag on it. My mother

and my aunt did that all Summer

before I left  -  ordered name tags

and tediously sewed them into or

onto each piece of clothing. As if

was some famous designer, like

Ralph Lauren or something, with

my name on each piece. It was

funny, but real.

-

After I left there, also kind of a

funny thing, I'd keep wearing

items of clothing that had my

name tag in them. It would bring

back a weird shock of recognition,

until, and when, eventually as

clothing dwindled or got cast

away, I realized there was nothing

any more, that I was wearing,

which still had a name tag. That

was weird, as I wondered where,

and how, all these things had gone.

One of life's mysteries, I guess.

Like soap getting smaller; or like

that water, from the hose, always

tasting at first like rubber.