Wednesday, 5 December 2012
CONFIRMING OR CONFORMING
In the previous blog I mentioned the terror awaiting those who were of age to be confirmed. There are seven sacrament in the Catholic Church.
1st Sacrament
We we were baptised at birth (no choice here).
2nd Sacrament
Confession. This one is a classic chapter and will need to be explored later on its own.
3rd Sacrament
We were then allowed to go to Holy Communion at age 7 - we had no choice here either except we were pretty excited to be wearing a white dress and veil and were treated to a beautiful breakfast afterward.
4th Sacrament
At the age of around 10 the next episode to be endured was Confirmation. Well, there was no choice here either as it was a mandatory 'privilege' to become a soldier of the church and an honour to die, if we had to, for the good of the church. The brainwashing established here stayed with us for many years and I am sure this contributed to my continued nightmares, which persisted long past my school days.
Confirmation, we were told, strengthened our faith and the ceremonious slap by the visiting bishop was just a reminder of the suffering we may be asked to make for the love of our church and, through that, for the love of God. Hence the expression "Why, for the love of God are you doing that?" or similar sayings. I think this was an expression linked to unreasonable behaviour. So the slap was discussed and feared by our group for the months prior to this demonstration of our commitment to the good of the cause.
I don't remember anyone falling from the altar after 'the slap' but I do remember it being unnecessarily hard and I feel the bishop would have got quite a 'kick' out of the whole procedure and would have looked on Confirmation as one of the perks of being a bishop.
So we conformed. It was a necessary event to be endured. Not one of us asked why. Ever! Hard to understand?
5th-7th Sacraments are Marriage, Holy Orders and Extreme Unction and I will deal with these later.
1st Sacrament
We we were baptised at birth (no choice here).
2nd Sacrament
Confession. This one is a classic chapter and will need to be explored later on its own.
3rd Sacrament
We were then allowed to go to Holy Communion at age 7 - we had no choice here either except we were pretty excited to be wearing a white dress and veil and were treated to a beautiful breakfast afterward.
4th Sacrament
At the age of around 10 the next episode to be endured was Confirmation. Well, there was no choice here either as it was a mandatory 'privilege' to become a soldier of the church and an honour to die, if we had to, for the good of the church. The brainwashing established here stayed with us for many years and I am sure this contributed to my continued nightmares, which persisted long past my school days.
Confirmation, we were told, strengthened our faith and the ceremonious slap by the visiting bishop was just a reminder of the suffering we may be asked to make for the love of our church and, through that, for the love of God. Hence the expression "Why, for the love of God are you doing that?" or similar sayings. I think this was an expression linked to unreasonable behaviour. So the slap was discussed and feared by our group for the months prior to this demonstration of our commitment to the good of the cause.
I don't remember anyone falling from the altar after 'the slap' but I do remember it being unnecessarily hard and I feel the bishop would have got quite a 'kick' out of the whole procedure and would have looked on Confirmation as one of the perks of being a bishop.
So we conformed. It was a necessary event to be endured. Not one of us asked why. Ever! Hard to understand?
5th-7th Sacraments are Marriage, Holy Orders and Extreme Unction and I will deal with these later.
Tuesday, 4 December 2012
OLD BAG revisited
The last entry was 7 August 2010 (Annie's 44th birthday, in fact) and I thought that maybe this mode of communication was outdated by social media but two things got me interested in continuing:
Yesterday we went to the Premier's Concert in Sydney (free concert for seniors) with some friends from Newcastle and we were discussing the Catholic Church, Cardinal Pell and his 'get over it' attitude and 'it doesn't help the victims to keep dragging it up' response
and the second happened on the train coming home when I was reading Mario Puzo's book "Amerta" and there was a piece on Confirmation. This reminded me of the fearful time when we were being prepared by the nuns for our Confirmation - the confirming of our being soldiers for life for the Catholic Church symbolised by the ceremonious slapping of our face by the bishop. Stories were rife re the intensity of that slap.
So the blog continues .....
Yesterday we went to the Premier's Concert in Sydney (free concert for seniors) with some friends from Newcastle and we were discussing the Catholic Church, Cardinal Pell and his 'get over it' attitude and 'it doesn't help the victims to keep dragging it up' response
and the second happened on the train coming home when I was reading Mario Puzo's book "Amerta" and there was a piece on Confirmation. This reminded me of the fearful time when we were being prepared by the nuns for our Confirmation - the confirming of our being soldiers for life for the Catholic Church symbolised by the ceremonious slapping of our face by the bishop. Stories were rife re the intensity of that slap.
So the blog continues .....
Saturday, 7 August 2010
EXPRESSIVE READING
I often wonder whether everyone, or even anyone, has this habit:
When I read and there is a description of a character's facial expression or minor body movement, I copy it before I continue reading. For example, the writer describes -
"She jerked her head suddenly in his direction ...." I do this
or
"He suddenly nodded, knowingly" .... Copied sometimes in different ways to emulate how the character would do this.
or
"She glared at her neighbour, then tossed her head in the air as a sign of dismissal"
or
"His shoulders slumped and his lips pursed as he realised the full extent of this knowledge"
etc etc
I have tried to stop myself re-enacting these movements but only find that I cannot continue the story until I do it.
I have an even crazier habit in relation to housework but will need more time before I can write this one down. I mentioned it to Tones in Vietnam and, although he took particular notice and has even spoken about it since, I am not sure whether he thinks the men in white coats should come and lock me up.
Both hands were up to my face and covering my eyes after I wrote the last paragraph, thinking whether to delete it or not. (Did anyone copy the last sentence?)
When I read and there is a description of a character's facial expression or minor body movement, I copy it before I continue reading. For example, the writer describes -
"She jerked her head suddenly in his direction ...." I do this
or
"He suddenly nodded, knowingly" .... Copied sometimes in different ways to emulate how the character would do this.
or
"She glared at her neighbour, then tossed her head in the air as a sign of dismissal"
or
"His shoulders slumped and his lips pursed as he realised the full extent of this knowledge"
etc etc
I have tried to stop myself re-enacting these movements but only find that I cannot continue the story until I do it.
I have an even crazier habit in relation to housework but will need more time before I can write this one down. I mentioned it to Tones in Vietnam and, although he took particular notice and has even spoken about it since, I am not sure whether he thinks the men in white coats should come and lock me up.
Both hands were up to my face and covering my eyes after I wrote the last paragraph, thinking whether to delete it or not. (Did anyone copy the last sentence?)
Tuesday, 3 August 2010
TO KNOW OR NOT TO KNOW
Little ones, even my two-year-old great grandson, know about babies in tummies and that is how their siblings come to be born. In 'days of old' pregnancies were hidden and were mentioned as the mother's 'confinement'. And confinement it was as these mothers rarely went out and with flowing dresses and aprons were quite adept at hiding the bump.
I was 10 when my sister, Maureen, was born. When I told my friend, Caroline, that I had another sister she said that she didn't notice that mum was fat. I didn't know what that had to do with it but she said that all mothers get fat before a new baby comes. I remember being confused with the conversation but we were at the local swimming pool and we were soon splashing around again in the big pool, which we had promised our parents we would not enter unless one of them was present. Not our fault that they were too busy to supervise.
I remember my father telling me of the day Aunty Pat was born. He was 15 and his mother asked him to take her to the hospital on his way to work. They walked there with him carrying her suitcase and then she told him to leave her there and come in after work.
After work, he found her sitting in bed nursing a baby. To his utter amazement she told him that it was his new sister. He said "Where did she come from?"
Hard to believe? Not when a number of my friends have similar stories.
A golfing friend, Vi Penno, told me of her mother's marriage. This was held at the family home and when the guests had left and the cleaning-up was done, her mother retired into her bedroom. When the door opened and her new husband entered the room she looked at him and said "What are you doing in here?"
I was around 15 when a group of us were walking home from a rehearsal for a Catholic Ball where we were to lead the debutantes into the hall. We were to wear our pretty pink dresses which had been made specially for the occasion and we were very excited to be attending such an event.
On our way one of our friends spoke about a girl who was a couple of years older than we were and told us that she was pregnant but didn't know who the father was. My comment caused a stir as I said "Can't she just pick who she wants?" Silence followed. Then the friend who was relating the gossip said "We'd better shut up as SOMEONE doesn't know". They talked of other things and try as I might no one gave me any more info.
A few days later I quizzed the storyteller and she told me, very quickly, how it came about. I couldn't believe that she would make up such a disgusting story but gradually, after asking some other friends, I realised that this was what happened. I looked at my parents in a totally different light but didn't bring up the subject with them, ever.
And my sister, Pam, when she was pregnant and one of the youngsters mentioned how fat she was, she told her that she had a baby in there. The child looked, wide-eyes and asked "Oh, NO. Did you eat it?"
We all thought this is be a very funny story but my mother was quite shocked that Pam would actually tell a child this.
This was the first time that I had heard a pregnant mother give this answer and not brush off the child with a vague reason. Before your time, Pam. Before your time.
I also remember mum saying that Carole Fenning was not someone she would wish us to bring home. The reason: she overheard her yelling out, 'in the main street, mind you', that she couldn't go for a swim as she had her period.
I remember when I first heard about periods I couldn't believe that only females were subjected to this. "So Dad doesn't get them? Only girls? How fair is that!"
I was 10 when my sister, Maureen, was born. When I told my friend, Caroline, that I had another sister she said that she didn't notice that mum was fat. I didn't know what that had to do with it but she said that all mothers get fat before a new baby comes. I remember being confused with the conversation but we were at the local swimming pool and we were soon splashing around again in the big pool, which we had promised our parents we would not enter unless one of them was present. Not our fault that they were too busy to supervise.
I remember my father telling me of the day Aunty Pat was born. He was 15 and his mother asked him to take her to the hospital on his way to work. They walked there with him carrying her suitcase and then she told him to leave her there and come in after work.
After work, he found her sitting in bed nursing a baby. To his utter amazement she told him that it was his new sister. He said "Where did she come from?"
Hard to believe? Not when a number of my friends have similar stories.
A golfing friend, Vi Penno, told me of her mother's marriage. This was held at the family home and when the guests had left and the cleaning-up was done, her mother retired into her bedroom. When the door opened and her new husband entered the room she looked at him and said "What are you doing in here?"
I was around 15 when a group of us were walking home from a rehearsal for a Catholic Ball where we were to lead the debutantes into the hall. We were to wear our pretty pink dresses which had been made specially for the occasion and we were very excited to be attending such an event.
On our way one of our friends spoke about a girl who was a couple of years older than we were and told us that she was pregnant but didn't know who the father was. My comment caused a stir as I said "Can't she just pick who she wants?" Silence followed. Then the friend who was relating the gossip said "We'd better shut up as SOMEONE doesn't know". They talked of other things and try as I might no one gave me any more info.
A few days later I quizzed the storyteller and she told me, very quickly, how it came about. I couldn't believe that she would make up such a disgusting story but gradually, after asking some other friends, I realised that this was what happened. I looked at my parents in a totally different light but didn't bring up the subject with them, ever.
And my sister, Pam, when she was pregnant and one of the youngsters mentioned how fat she was, she told her that she had a baby in there. The child looked, wide-eyes and asked "Oh, NO. Did you eat it?"
We all thought this is be a very funny story but my mother was quite shocked that Pam would actually tell a child this.
This was the first time that I had heard a pregnant mother give this answer and not brush off the child with a vague reason. Before your time, Pam. Before your time.
I also remember mum saying that Carole Fenning was not someone she would wish us to bring home. The reason: she overheard her yelling out, 'in the main street, mind you', that she couldn't go for a swim as she had her period.
I remember when I first heard about periods I couldn't believe that only females were subjected to this. "So Dad doesn't get them? Only girls? How fair is that!"
Saturday, 17 July 2010
MATILDA revisited
Because I have 12 balls of this pink/blue stuff, I decided to give it another try. Of course, with my prior very successful efforts in this creative activity, I was confident that I would overcome any problems. How hard can it be?
After four hours I have just finished 3 different designs. The first ended up in a circle (circumference 30 cm). Pulled it undone so tried with a different stitch - it was curved and ended in a crescent shape which I could not see fitting into a crib or pram or basinet or even a car seat. Next one became square and I became quite excited with my clever new stitch until about row 9 when I noticed that the first 3 lines were undulating.
It is now 9.30 pm - tomorrow I might buy a doll at the Kiama markets.
After four hours I have just finished 3 different designs. The first ended up in a circle (circumference 30 cm). Pulled it undone so tried with a different stitch - it was curved and ended in a crescent shape which I could not see fitting into a crib or pram or basinet or even a car seat. Next one became square and I became quite excited with my clever new stitch until about row 9 when I noticed that the first 3 lines were undulating.
It is now 9.30 pm - tomorrow I might buy a doll at the Kiama markets.
Friday, 16 July 2010
MATILDA
My cousin, Kinya, had a little girl, Matilda, born 14/07. She was due on 23/07 and I have been making a blanket since finishing the magnificent one I completed for my new little great granddaughter. (I was very, very proud of this one as it is the only one I have finished on my own using a difficult pattern. One needs to see this to appreciate just how beautiful it turned out. I spent many hours just looking at it and, to be honest, was pretty sad when I handed it over.)
Well, maybe this is what happens when one is over-confident because this next effort has not been the success I anticipated.
Firstly, because I didn't know if she was expecting a girl or boy, I got wool with both pink and blue - very soft and pretty. Made a complete hash of that one - too thick and too long and would probably take 3 years to finish.
I then got the news that a little girl had arrived New plan - pink and white.
Disaster struck again as it looked CRAP.
Went back to the pink and blue and decided to do the same pattern as I use for Trishcloths - couldn't fail with this as there are many examples of these in many countries and they are in demand by family and friends.
What I didn't realise was that I had not attempted to use wool of this ply - much too thick for the hook. Ended up with what now looks like a scarf and nothing like a blanket. Still have another six balls of the wool but the size will be about 6 feet long x 2 feet wide. (I had emailed Kinya I was making one and she replied how excited she was to see it).
What to do now. I have spent 18 hours on three flops so far. Really - she is a third cousin and two days old. How can I stress over this? Have decided I need a good night's sleep. Tomorrow I will buy a pink blanket. Might throw in some booties.
Well, maybe this is what happens when one is over-confident because this next effort has not been the success I anticipated.
Firstly, because I didn't know if she was expecting a girl or boy, I got wool with both pink and blue - very soft and pretty. Made a complete hash of that one - too thick and too long and would probably take 3 years to finish.
I then got the news that a little girl had arrived New plan - pink and white.
Disaster struck again as it looked CRAP.
Went back to the pink and blue and decided to do the same pattern as I use for Trishcloths - couldn't fail with this as there are many examples of these in many countries and they are in demand by family and friends.
What I didn't realise was that I had not attempted to use wool of this ply - much too thick for the hook. Ended up with what now looks like a scarf and nothing like a blanket. Still have another six balls of the wool but the size will be about 6 feet long x 2 feet wide. (I had emailed Kinya I was making one and she replied how excited she was to see it).
What to do now. I have spent 18 hours on three flops so far. Really - she is a third cousin and two days old. How can I stress over this? Have decided I need a good night's sleep. Tomorrow I will buy a pink blanket. Might throw in some booties.
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