Habit Forming

I wonder sometimes exactly how and when my final personality developed. I think back growing up and try to remember the events or activities that have made me who I am today, meaning by the “who” I am is, how I react to things, do I panic? Am I calm? How do I try to treat my fellow man? What kind of person am I?

I wonder too if these life forming events would have had different outcomes if I was say, a year or two older, for example, I remember the day John F. Kennedy died. I remember being outside and I remember going into my Grandmother’s parlor and she and my Aunt, who was sitting in her teal green rocking chair, were watching TV and they were crying. I was told to go out and play. I went outside and played with the chestnuts I stored in the cellars window well. I remember this very clearly. This was in 1963. I was six years old. But what if I was seven or eight? Would my recollections of that day be different and therefore add a new layer of forming personality? I would like to believe I was formed by the daily intake of the events occurring around me, but then I do a reality check and realize I was formed by: THE NUNS!

Ah...the loving, caring women from the order of the Sisters of Saint Joseph. The memories of being at the Immaculate Conception School come back to me in vivid, but blurry, flashbacks. Seriously, I do not have a continuous memory stream of this time. I remember our uniforms: navy blue jumpers, white shirts, clip on tie, navy blue knee socks, and my good shoes! I remember being lined up by height, two-by-two’s to come back in from recess or to leave school for the day as the bus numbers were called out. I also remember there were always at least fifty students in each class and you could hear a pin drop.

And then I remember... Oh the evil of it all! I remember two nuns talking at the door between the classrooms. I could feel they were talking about me! (They probably weren’t) It was at that moment my life as an innocent child ended. Forever after this time I was known as the ‘black sheep’, the dark child!

I was the spawn of Satan!! I was…I was… Left Handed!! (my poor mother, she tried so hard with us)

I felt so ostracized, there must have been others? I was in second grade when the news spread throughout the school like wild fire. ‘The Spawn of Satan is in Sister Mary Francis’ classroom!’

It was then the school decided they would envelope me into their loving, caring arms and break the evil spirits hold on my inner soul and began the long process of cleansing my spirit. Thus began their attempts to fix me, to make me right handed.

From that day on until the end of fourth grade from the minute the first bell rang for the start of the day until the buses were called at the end of the day – I sat on my left hand. Yes, sat on my left hand, (Yeah... that wasn’t to humiliating for a kid.) and forced to do all activities with my right hand, writing, scissors, etc. If caught using my left hand I was promptly whacked on the knuckles with a ruler standing on end. Two years!

I believe I was saved from further torture by those jolly fellows from Rome who completed their two year project called Vatican II. Along with stopping masses in Latin, they must have added some sub paragraph declaring no more hand tortures or something, because in the fifth grade the hand altering experiences stopped. So what personality trait did the nuns give me from this campaign, an innate fear of wooden rulers? Can I get a lawyer? I’ve always wanted to own the Vatican, heard they have a great library.

My final word on this subject: Haud res quis, religio gave optimus erudio quod ego gratias ago lemma illo. Latin for: No matter what, the nuns gave the best education and I thank them for that.