Last to know

A tongue-in-cheek lament about being out of the loop


I don't know what it is, but I'm never in "the loop." The proverbial loop. Maybe there's a secret initiation that I missed or a blood test I failed, but I know less about what's going on in my own parish/family/neighborhood than just about any random person on the street.

A few years back, when the Father Altier saga was happening at my parish, I had to read Paul at Thoughts of a Regular Guy's blog to find out some of the dirt that was going on. His blog was the first blog I started to read with any regularity and is what kinda sorta got me started with my own blog. I then read some local blogs and figured if Terry could rant away on his blog, I could publicly whine away. The whole blogging thing is self-serving, but somewhat cathartic.

I do have a friend who is ascloseasthis with Father Altier, but I didn't want to ask her what was going on since her opinion would've been a bunch of vim and vinegar for the Archbishop. Sometimes, it is better not to know.

Anyway, I don't "get in close" with my parish priest, or the nuns or just about any body else in that capacity. My great-grandfather always told his nine girls (and one son, my grandfather) to stay away from priests. He probably had ulterior motives for that advice, but to his credit, none of his daughters ran off with Father Kinney. However, in that same fashion, the subsequent generations of my family didn't make it a practice to invite their priest over for dinner. Everything was strictly business.

At a parish function awhile back, a lady pointed out the sisters of the parish. She named a few of them, but couldn't recall all their names. She asked me who they were. I'm sorry, I have no clue. I know the parish used to have some Sisters of Notre Dame there, but that was decades ago. I couldn't tell you what order the sisters are from, how many there are in the parish and I sure couldn't tell you their names. I see them at Mass all the time, but that's the end of it. But, back to the story. Another lady, sitting on the other side of me heard this woman ask if I knew the names of the sisters and my pleading ignorance, so she filled me in on all of them. I even know Mother's shoe size now.

Kind of like a good friend of mine who often tells me that she corresponds with either 300 or 800 people all over the world. Honky dory, good for you. If that's what floats your boat, more power to you. However, this mom is too busy making sure I have diapers and wipes with me at all times and that my kids aren't making a get-away under the pews to care if Mother Superior is in the building or not.

Our neighbors are on every imaginable committee at the nearby parish. They look at us a little more than askance because we don't belong to this parish even though it's within walking distance. We drive a few miles across town so I don't have to take Communion from a high school kid wearing shorts and a Green Bay Packers polo shirt. If it was a Vikings polo, that would be different. And, all the neighbors whose kids attend this parish are as thick as thieves -- then there is moi, who is not in the loop.

I'm not knocking in any way, shape, or form, helping out at your parish, it's just the folks who want you to know that they know Father or Sister so-and-so or that they are on the Liturgical Dance Committee, that make me roll my eyes.

But, as the sage Martha Stewart always says, it's a good thing not to get caught up in all this. Just like it's also good not to get caught in tax evasion or insider trading.

(FYI: I heard a concert of Brahms this morning and obviously, it put my brain to sleep.)

[Photo: Möbius strip]