RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,374
(where am I going, where have I been? pt. 5)
Taking the measure of a man is OK
when he's a man, but as a kid, or of
a kid, it's useless. Nothing yet is
formed, the character isn't finished,
and lots of things are tried out. That's
how I found it to be - one day the
hair is parted this way, another day,
that way. All things are in flux. So
little matters except to the person
involved - that's why kids revolt.
They pretty much have no use for
'your' rules and regulations and
procedures and manners. Out with
the old, in with the new. The problem
here, in this seminary home-climate,
was - as I realized by the second
year - that none of that was underway,.
The people around me were about as
static as concrete. I guessed it was
because they'd already decided their
'line of work' - an operative for Christ,
a salesman for Jesus, Mary, and Joseph
too. That didn't leave much of an area
for pivot. For the rest of your life too.
By 1967 (I was, by then, long gone from
that realm, and the entirety of it seemed
ridiculous to me, even more that it had
in 1964. Which is why, by 1968, the
entire Catholic world was already in
turmoil. Priests and Nuns bailing, left
and right. Marrying - sometimes
even each other. A real crossover move.
(I have a story somewhere I wrote
about that. I'll try and find it, to put
here).
-
There wasn't much going on. Everyday
the same guys did the same praying, the
pepperheads clowned at the same refectory
table, and the same 6 priests were steaming
over too much noise during dining, or some
one or two infractions they'd seen that really
bugged them. I remember, I guess it was
the first year, some major crisis going on
between the student body, and Father Edward
and Father Colin Kahl. Edward was the
red-haired, red-faced, Head of the school.
I forget what they called it by title, Chancellor?
but he reported to the Salvatorian Order
heads in Minnesota, and he was responsible
for keeping things orderly, running smoothly,
watching the expenses and books/numbers,
and, probably make sure, as well, that no boy
committed suicide, or other rash acts. Father
Edward smoked constantly, had nicotine
yellowed fingertips on whichever hand he
smoked with (right hand) and otherwise
seemed ready to pop a vessel. And when
he talked or smiled, his squinty eyes just
became slits. Probably because the smoke
from his cigarette was burning his eyes.
Colin Kahl was cool. He smoked too, but
not to excess. By 1968, he was out of there,
and out of religion too, had married and had
a kid or two and lived by Syracuse, NJ.
In the 1980's I remember he was running,
up there, for a Board of Ed. seat, and then
councilman. I don't know how that worked
out, but he'd dead now. Everything was
starting its turmoil and I knew little of it;
they treated the internal politics of the
seminary like it was in the White House
or something - this issue was something
about 'responsibility'. The upper classes
wanted to do something their way and it
went wrong. So the two priests at the head
of the Refectory head table (They were
elevated, over us, and ate off to the side,
watching, from their elevated table. The
big-deal lecture-tirade was about the idea
of 'Responsibility' and how these upperclass
guys had blown it for everyone else. Kind
of a Nazi-tactic, I thought. I can't even
remember now, 60 years later, what the
issue was. But, in any case, these two
priest guys above us were furious! And
over some weirdly intangible issue. All
I was able to think was 'Whoa! This
whole place is a sealed up looney bin!.
-
It wasn't magic; none of it was. I never
felt more stranded, though that soon passed.
At 13 or 14, whatever it was, I'd already,
2 years in, been annealed by all this
crap - their religion BS and all the rest,
and my 'tensile' strength, let's say, about
about to let and Roman-collar mental
thugs get the better of me. I didn't even
know what in the world they were talking
about, but I wanted to punch them in the
heads anyway. If this was to be my 'in
loco parentis' (in place of the parents)
environment, they could keep it. It
was pretty much at that point that I
wrote them off. I had nothing, and
I knew it.
-
This 'Salvatorian' order was out of
Germany. Teutonic guys, from
Wisconsin and Minnesota, they
ran a few Catholic High Schools
out there, and a few seminaries.
How they got to South Jersey
with this one, I never found out.
They seemed tough and beefy,
a lot of them, ready to rumble.
Although I never saw any of
them in regular street or sport
clothes (they always wore their
long priest garb, with a huge rosary
bead thing hanging down one side
of their leather belt.), they always
looked sound of body, most of
them. Two things to mention -
those oversized rosary bead things
that hung from their belt, they
doubled as discipline whips,
swung well. I ought to know, for
more than once was I the one
getting the whipping. One night
(study hall, daily, 'til 10pm,
then dismissal for dorm and
bed), a few of us were bored
as Hell, and I started some out
of line crap. Each classroom had
a sighting window at the rear,
and whichever priest was the
'Hall Monitor' would slowly
walk the walls, (reading his
Breviary again), checking
things out, keeping order.
Well, this one night, Colin
Kahl himself saw me, through
that rear window causing a
ruckus or a disturbance. It
was a few of us, but had
seen me, and probably had
it in for me anyway. He came
blasting into the room, loudly
muttering something I can't
recall, but I knew it meant trouble.
He grabbed from behind, lifting
me out of my desk/chair, and
flung me face down over the
desk, in just the right position
for a rosary bead (way oversized)
beating on my back. He flailed
them viciously, and each of
probably 10 or 12 swats really
hurt, In loco parentis? That
was discipline. Not another
word was said, and he stormed
out as quickly as he'd stormed in.
-
I don't know what I made of that. I
kept thinking about it some, but it never
mattered. A few guys said how cool it
was that I took a whipping and never
said a word. I didn't know what they
wanted me to say. Two Our Fathers and
Ten Hail Mary's I guess.
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