It’s the uniform that commands respect; a beacon to all who pass that this individual has made a selfless decision to regard others above themselves, committing to a life of service and community support.
That’s why nuns are cool. I was actually gonna write about nuns this week, but I’ve instead I decided to write about “the world at large”, tackling some of this madness surrounding us: people at each other’s throats, an international game of whatever it’s called when a bully pushes you hard on the shoulder and says “What?”.
I think no matter what side you’re on, and there seem to be about 20 sides, everyone feels like we don’t recognize ourselves, or one another.
Ah.
I was about to say, “When I was a kid” , but I should be more insightful than comparing present to past. Though I do remember my first school principal, from when I was about three and a half to maybe ten? It was just after the swingin’ ’60’s, Tupperware still seemed like “the future”,
Two weeks before the school year started my mom, who was a teacher, quit her teaching job and got another one that was 45 minutes away in order to be close to this new school she wanted to put me in that my pediatrician had recommended a couple of weeks before. It was a big sacrifice, but there were great teachers, and the principal was this woman who radiated patience and compassion; you could ask her anything, and she had this philosophy that “everyone is the best at something, even if that thing is just being you, you’re the best at it, you have to find out what you’re the best at, there’s no need to be jealous of anybody because we’re all the best at something.” C’mon, as a kid this was amazing… we each knew who we were but we were all together, we felt like Avengers. Or, at least the X-Men. She was great. Her name was Sister Janet Helen.
Aw man, see, now I’m talking about nuns. It was a French Parochial Catholic school. I’m not French, or Catholic or, a girl ‘cause I guess this was the first year they let boys in, but… sorry veered off course, a little bit.
Excuse me.
The world’s messed up, that’s where I was, right?
That’s where we all are. We’ve got to rise above it, like…aw man…sorry… just got this image in my head when I said that and I, well it’s kind of embarrassing but the first person I ever saw fly was not a superhero but… Sally Field. She was in this tv show when I was a baby called…”The Flying Nun”. Yes, it sounds like I made it up but…
Wikipedia.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Flying_Nun
She was a nun, and she could fly, not under her own power but because of her hat, her cornette, and the incredible wind that blew through this mountain convent she lived in. Her only superpower was really optimism and kindness. Wow, that was before I even went to school. That’s weird, hadn’t thought of that.
Anyway the world’s messed up. But is it really? Or is it people? People are messed up, and not everybody, ok we’re all a little messed up but we can all agree on all 20 sides that some people are way more messed up than other people. Look, we all agree. There.
What does it take for a soul to heal? For anger and aggression not to be passed down, but dissipate? To fall out of the bloodline? We live between love and fear, neither of them concrete or tangible, yet the most solid concepts of every culture. What moves us to love who we are, rather than run from ourselves, or harm others?
(I wish “nuns” was the answer here. That would make this really work.)
The last time I spoke to a nun was the end of senior year of college: I had maybe 250 pages to write for seven classes in about a week and there she was, right outside the pizza place, probably in her twenties. I convinced her of the authenticity of my grade school background and asked super politely if she’d donate some good energy towards my general cause. She gave a little blessing right there on the corner of Elm and York. And I graduated. Honorably, if not with any particular honors.
Ok, now that I’ve said that out loud, I am not sure she wasn’t an actress, as I didn’t see nuns for four years in New Haven and never at the pizza place. Good catch. I wish nuns did walk around, just, have a beat. Can you imagine a city where you could flag down a nun if you had a crisis of faith? “Tommy’s feeling existential! Somebody call a nun !”
Ok, the reason I was going to write about nuns this week originates from a casual conversation about the films we’ve seen the most times. I realized the movie I watched most before Star Wars came out was a Rosalind Russell film called “Where Angels Go, Trouble Follows!”, a madcap tale of an all girls Catholic school taking a road trip across the country and the inevitable hilarity that ensues: this was the only film my grade school had a 16mm print of, and every year we had some kind of assembly to watch it.
So every year I watched actresses portray nuns, surrounded by actual nuns. So I guess it was perfect to meet that nice lady outside the pizza shop; she exhibited what was necessary for me to be less afraid and more at peace. Patience, compassion, optimism, and kindness.
The world is large, people are messed up, but sweeping change seems impossible without individuals unafraid to be brave, targets for bullies but together, more than a match for them. If it’s oxymoronic for love to have an army, it should at least have secret agents.
So if she was an actress, she was great. She did the job. She radiated faith. Wherever she is, I thank her.
She was an absolute credit to the uniform.
Hearts & Cornettes.