rainy days and opera music

When I was a young teenager, possibly 12 or 13 years old, my mother decided to transfer my sisters and I, from the public school system to a private Catholic school.  She said this was because she didn't like how rebellious we were becoming and the people we were choosing to hang around with and thus we made the switch.  I only spent one year at Holy Family, I was in the seventh grade.  It was an interesting time in my life, I knew very little about religion, absolutely zero about Latin and wasn't a very good student to boot.  I pretty much equated school with a means for socialization and could have cared less about the  educational opportunities that were offered to me.

I remember how very clever I felt when I first started at Holy Family.  The first thing I did was tell my mother that the price for lunches was $2.00, which gave me an extra $1.15 per day to spend however I wanted.  I immediately developed the appropriate crushes on the very few good looking mysterious boys in my class and was accepted into the social circles rather quickly.  I never had trouble making friends.  Sister Giovanni was my unofficial mentor.  She kept me in her classroom while the other students went to Latin and did her best to take me under her wing and get me caught up on the practices and prayers and other things that seemed to dumbfound me.  In an attempt to help me get antiquated with the place, she even arranged it so that I had a one time opportunity to say the announcements, pledge of allegiance, and morning prayer over the PA system one morning.  I was great until I got to the morning prayer, then I flubbed the words and inadvertently took the lord's name in vain, and that was the last time I was asked to do that.  I was completely oblivious to why people were looking at me funny for the entirety of that day.

Surprisingly, I enjoyed the religion classes, although it was the only subject I was failing.  The knowledge just wasn't there.  I began to love the stories, love Sister Giovanni, and even started to contemplate what life would be like joining the order.  My mother even stated often that my sisters and I were acting nicer, I am truly unsure of whether or not this is true, my mother is a lover of results and she may have psyched herself into thinking we were being nicer, but I think we were the same.

One of the most comforting memories I have from Holy Family goes a little like this:  Myself and two of my classmates decided to go for a long walk after school one day.  We walked up to Thompson Park and started to head home when it began to rain.  I shouldn't say rain, it was pouring.  The sky was getting ominously dark and we couldn't get home soon enough.  We were three young girls in our catholic plaid skirts, soaked hair pasted to our heads, a very sad sight.  A small white Nissan car pulled up to us and the passenger window slid down to reveal a familiar, heartwarming, smile.  It was a priest from Holy Family.  Although I don't remember his name, I remember a lot about him.  He was younger, very easy to talk to, and always happy.  We accepted his offer for a ride (these were the times that a priest was considered a safe adult).  We piled into his car and were welcomed with the delightful sounds of opera music and a toasty warm atmosphere.  He delivered each of us to our homes safe and sound.  I never forgot how inviting his car was, how much I loved the Opera music, and how thankful we were that day for a rainy day rescue.

Rainy days and Opera music was born to my life....always.

This picture is of the class I transferred into.  This was the entire seventh grade class, and that is Sr. Giovanni in the upper right hand corner.  My transfer happened post-picture day, so I am not in this picture.