40 Days of Lent

Growing up Catholic and attending a parochial grade school, I have many vivid memories of Lent as a kid...

1. Racking my brain on Fat Tuesday thinking what to "give up" for the next 40 days...now mind you, for an 11 or 12 year old, this took careful planning. Not watching TV always sounded good until the 2nd week went by, and then it dawned on me that I had to to go almost another 4 weeks of no Johnny Socko and the Flying Robot/ Ultraman/ Speedracer episodes after school.
2. Thinking it was such a hardship to not eat meat on Friday...which it kind of was if you ever tasted my mom's tuna fish casserole! Looking back on it, I also remember eating quite a bit of shrimp on Fridays- hardly a sacrifice.
3. Attending Ash Wednesday services at school and then comparing the "smudge-mark"on each other's foreheads all day long with my buddies. We always had a contest who could leave theirs on the longest throughout the week....I think some kid named Toby won- I also remember him having some serious body odor.
4. Sitting in the church pews with my classmates, staring at the cross hanging from the altar, and being scared to death what I was going to say when I was next in line for confession. Everybody in class usually tried to help each other out by passing notes of "usable sins" that we could convey to the priest if we were really stuck- most of which are not "bloggable" here...
5. Strumming my $40.oo nylon string folk guitar for school liturgies and meticulously playing/ singing over and over again the tune, "These 40 days of Lent O Lord" with our beloved principal, Sr. Dorothy. She'd keep us in church all afternoon long, which little did she know was our secret plan to get out of school work, until we sounded just right.
6. Bringing home my personal "operation rice bowl". I remember assembling this little cardboard box that had a bunch of pictures of 3rd world children all over the outside of it. The first couple of nights, our family would usually have it somewhere in sight around supper time, but as Lent wore on, the box tended to disappear from both sight/ mind. I would scramble during Holy week to relocate it and shove a bunch of loose coins in it to bring it back to school for the offering. I shamefully admit that I missed the whole point of this one as a youngster.
7. Attending the Stations of the Cross. The priest and the altar boys would go up and down the side aisles of the church, recite a small narrative/ prayer in front of each station, and then lead us in some oral response. We were often given little notebooks to record special intentions, but I distinctly remember using mine to scratch off the number of stations that had been completed...and then thinking, "Ok, just 3 more to go!"
8. Venerating the Cross on Good Friday. This was always an intriguing ritual for me to observe. Parishioners were always welcomed to attend school church services, and I can still envision these little old ladies hobbling up to the front of the church, with canes and walkers, and then dropping to their knees to kiss the wounds of the Christ figure that had been laid at the foot of the altar. Many of us tended to giggle through this, but to this day this has remained a powerful image.
9. Serving the Easter Vigil Mass...this was by far the "Super Bowl" of being an altar boy...or so I thought. They forgot to mention to me that something like 57 Old Testament readings are recited at this mass- all the while I had to stand next to the pulpit with my hands extended toward Heaven, as the priests used to kindly remind us. Then, there was the incense. Fr. Corrigan, God love him, was a huge fan of this stuff. I remember it bringing tears to my eyes everytime he swung it around the altar. This easily was a 2 plus hour church service.
10. Waking up Easter Sunday morning- not real early if I had served at the Vigil Mass the night before- and looking for the infamous "basket". I'm guessing my father took delight in usually hiding mine somewhere like the trash basket or behind the commode. (Ok, I've done the same to my kids a few times...it's funny now!) We'd usually have some eggs to find (the plastic kind w/ money or a trinket inside them) and a gift wrapped next to our basket. We'd head off for church and invariably my folks would comment on how crowded the church would be that day...you know, the C & E Catholics. We'd come home, have a fabulous dinner together, and pretty much just hang out together as a family. Good times...until the next morning when I had to go back to school since Easter vacation was officially over. Funny...I get this same feeling today, at age 38!