THE AMAZING ADVENTURES OF TOM D. AND THE HOLY SPIRIT
Or
An Old Man’s Musings on His Spiritual Journey
Chapter Two
“The Beat Goes On”
In Chapter One, I left off at the end of my first twelve years, intuitively sensing a guiding presence that, in my spiritual infancy, I didn’t recognize as the Holy Spirit. My everyday life continued, with the mundanity of school, family, friends and fairly regular attendance with Grandma May at St. Francis Catholic Church. Dad usually accepted the job of taxi driver so he could spend his time waiting for us at his beloved Elk’s Club next door. There he’d shoot the breeze with his friends in the bar as well as shoot a few games of pool and a few shots of Jim Beam. Heaven forbid that he’d ever consider going to Mass with us, despite my grandmother’s gentle urgings.
After graduation from Beardsley Elementary School, I entered the totally new world of high school with no clue how radically my life would change. I attended Bakersfield High School (BHS) in downtown Bakersfield, each day taking a long bus ride into the city from my warm, secure home in the farm country north of town.
At that time Bakersfield had only two high schools, one east and one downtown, B.H.S. being the oldest, established around 1880. It was my dad’s Alma Mater, he having graduated in 1924. It was totally cool, with years of traditions, especially the Drillers, its varsity football team, known statewide for its many championships.
As a lowly freshman I found myself surrounded by a whole new world of guys with muscles who shaved and girls who hung onto them. I quickly began to learn the “pecking order” on campus and started looking for places to connect and fit in.
The athletic world wasn’t for me because I was a “90-pound weakling” and hated sports, much to my dad’s disgust. Dressing out in the boys’ locker room and having to endure the ordeal of gang showers was an ongoing test of my courage, and the only way I made it through was to hang with the other guys who had the same problem. After a few weeks of hazing, the upperclassmen got bored and left us alone. They were far more interested in who was dating whom and how hot so-and-so’s car was!
I found my place on the Freshman Student Council and spent four years selling Cinnamon Candied Apples from Dewar’s, the famous candy store nearby, run by the family of the most beautiful girl on campus, a fact agreed upon by every male in the school! Our goal was to raise funds for a Senior Gift to the school when we graduated and to fund the annual class dance in the spring.
Another place I found to belong was Newman Club, the Catholic student’s organization on campus. In those days there was much more religious tolerance on school campuses, and Newman Club was very popular for three main reasons. The first reason was that all the rich Italian farmer’s kids belonged, and the second was that our sponsor was the most beloved counselor on campus, Miss Emma Sandrini. The third big draw was that the meetings were held weekly in the evenings at Mrs. Jo Brown’s house. She was Miss Sandrini’s secretary in the attendance office. Not only was she like a mom to us, it was also good to have an “in” at the attendance office, just in case.
By now you’re probably wondering what happened to the Holy Spirit in this on-going spiritual journey! It’s only in retrospect that I realize that I was being carried, nurtured and protected by the Holy Spirit the whole time, mostly due to my association with all the rich, worldly Catholic farmer’s kids. We had lots of great social get-togethers, but we also had ongoing religious training from our local Franciscan priest, Fr. Byrne, a wonderful Irish priest from “ye auld sod.” We attended novenas and retreats and learned about the spiritual practices of the church as well as learning how to drink Dago red wine on the sly and get away with outrageous things without our parents or sponsors finding out. However, we learned much later that they knew all along, accepting it as just a part of growing up and figuring out what life was all about, because they’d done the same things!
This was also a very painful part of my life. I was quite gregarious in a group but painfully shy around girls, always filled with some unknown fear that I’d be rejected and ridiculed publicly if I acted on my now rapidly emerging, raging hormonal urges. So I yearned and longed for a girl friend and, although I had a long, ongoing relationship with my friend Charlotte, we never got past the dancing close and hand holding stages. It turns out she was just as shy as I was, and no matter how hard our mothers pushed us, we remained captives to our fear of rejection and never “did” anything, however innocent.
Another painful part of my high school years was being tarred with the “gay” brush. I belonged to a group of 8-10 guys and girls who hung out together all the time. We were in the same clubs, shared the same lunch and enjoyed each other’s company. It wasn’t until my senior year that I finally figured out why girls mostly steered clear of me. It seems that everyone on campus except me knew that Duane, my best friend since elementary school, and another friend Herbie were “queer.” I was so naïve about “them” that I never had a clue. They were just my friends! This revelation was devastating to my sense of self-worth and acceptance, and I’ve carried the scars of that experience with me all of my life. Was I, just because “everyone else” thought I was? I knew I wasn’t when I finally figured what they were talking about, but by then the damage was done.
Well, the Holy Spirit must have gulped a few times during the times of loving, caring and nurturing of this poor, little naïve kid who didn’t have a clue that even then he was a “beloved child of God” and totally precious in His sight.
Tune in next month for Chapter Three, “The College Years.”
