Funny thing about organized religion is that they seldom leave much room for the Individual.
Such was my experience.
In the faith to which i was baptised by my parents, there comes a time in your life where
you are expected to Reaffirm your convictions to that faith.
This ritual is called Confirmation.
Meaning, i suppose that you are confirming the fact that you do, indeed, wish to be a member of
this sect.
Now it was my good fortune to be blessed with a family that encouraged individuality and
the necessity of questioning things you didnt understand.
As the first born female grandchild of an Italian immigrant, I was someone special indeed.
That I resembled his late wife made me somewhat his favorite, though he professed not to
have a favorite.
But all the signs were there.
I got the first cut lilacs every spring.
I was allowed to help him wrap the fig trees for winter.
I was always seated to his right hand side at all family functions.
I think you get the idea.
For a few years I was sent to a Catholic grade school.
But it was rigid and left no room for “me”.
After much talking, my grandfather decided that I should be allowed to go to public school,
Provided I kept my grades up, etc.
I did well and really much prefered the openness of the public school system.
We were encouraged to offer our opinions on a variety of subjects and this seemed to make
things far more interesting than just memorizing dates and names and then spitting them back out
on a test paper.
Little did i know, that down the line I would be forced to return to the world of the nuns
and priests and their very regimented little world.
Seems something called CCD was mandated since i didnt attend catholic school.
This is a course designed to teach you everything you need to know in order to Reaffirm your
committment to your religion.
The COOL thing was, that you got to pick a name.
I thought that was great since i wasnt wild about Either of the names my parents chose for
me.
Now what you need to keep in mind here is that nuns are named after saints.
And that most religious people have Patron Saints.
*shrugs*
So my grandfather gets me registered for these classes, and all is well in my small world.
Or so I thought.
My instructor was named Sister Michael Bernard.
Sister Michael Bernard’s favorite Saint was called Saint Margaret.
Odd
ok
*insert another shrug here*
We go through the classes, take tests, etc.
All the things expected of us.
Then comes an interesting assignment.
Write about a saint.
Any saint.
I had to do some thinking about that one.
Remember my grandfather?
His name was Gaetano. (which in English is Thomas.)
I suppose the nuns in the school he went to didnt care much for the little Italian boy’s
name so they decided he would be called Andrew.
Well my ties to my family dictated that I research and write about this Andrew.
(should have gone with Thomas maybe, but i was 12 at the time)
Report was thorough and well received.
BIG DAY………Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee ! We get to fill out an index card with all our vital
information INCLUDING the name we have chosen for ourselves.
That didnt require much thought.
ANDREW !
YES! I would honor my beloved Grandfather and take his name as my own chosen name.
I may have forgotten to mention that Sister Michael Bernard seemed hell bent on spouting the
many merits of “our beloved Ste Margaret” every opportunity she had. (which were rather
numerous)
But being 12 has many advantages, the most important being the ability to block out things
you DONT want or need to hear. (like mom yelling “its Bedtime, i said.”)
And of course, the ramblings about “our beloved Ste Margaret”
We hand in our cards.
Well it was more like Sister Michael Bernard sat at her big old wooden desk and we filed up
one by one and handed her our card which she read with Great care.
One by one she read off the “chosen names”
Margaret
Margaret
Margaret
Margaret
Get the picture?
Big smiles from Michael there. Ah the wonder of having so much control over young minds.
eh? Whats THIS?
ANDREW????
WHY ANDREW???
You said we could pick any name we wanted as long as it was a “saints name” and i researched
it and Andrew was a saint..
SIT DOWN MISS DALTON!
“Seems that every young lady in this class has freely chosen to honor “our beloved Ste
Margaret” Other than MISS DALTON. SHE thinks she can have the name ANDREW”
*nervous giggles from the little female sheep*
Needless to say, home i went to talk this over with Grandfather.
He was honored that I would choose to have his name (although i should remember that Andrew
wasnt his real first name..even though when he was an adult he went to court and had it
legally changed to Andrew.)
He tells me that I really should choose a girls name, since i Was his little girl and Not
his little Boy.
He has a look in his eye that tells me very clearly that this was not a Request, but rather
he intended for me to obey him.
And I DO.
We go through a final round of selecting names “to be sure that we understand the honor we
are about to Give and receive.”
The ritual begins again…up we file and hand in our cards.
Margaret
Margaret
Margaret
Margaret
ANDREA!
“well once again it seems that MISS DALTON has decided NOT to honor ‘our beloved Ste
Margaret’
“And may we know WHY you chose NOT to have the name of our beloved Ste Margaret, but instead
chose the name ANDREA?”
BECAUSE YOU WOULDNT LET ME HAVE ANDREW DAMMIT!
I didnt make my confirmation that year.
