Rest In Pieces
Went to a memorial mass on Sunday for my Dad and my Uncle Jim. I was seated next to my Aunt and when it was time to give the sign of peace I gave her a kiss on the cheek and in a tribute to both Dad and Uncle Jim I said:
"Peace On You!"
It struck my Aunt funny because she had not heard that in a few years and as she turned to my Mom for the sign of peace...she was in a pretty good giggle.
After the mass we talked about some of the rather unique things Dad had to say about God, church and the Bible stories.
"God worked a lot of miracles," Dad once said, "But the one that gets me is when Moses tied his ass to a tree and walked ten miles."
Dad swore that was a Bible story.
Yet Mom and Dad certainly introduced us to the church.
I still go as often as I can...but the one thing that I've learned in later years is to rid myself of the guilt.
The nuns had scared the crap out of us for a lot of years.
I still feel guilty...and I don't do a whole helluva' lot of sinning these days.
Yet before Mass was even over I laughed a little on my own.
Here's the story:
Dad was driving the car over the Golden Gate Bridge into San Francisco for work. It wasn't even 6 a.m. so we were both wiping sleep out of our eyes, knowing that we had a long day of work ahead.
The man on the radio was telling us about a murder in another part of the country.
A man, who was a drug dealer, had been strangled and then, in an effort to hide the body, his killers had chopped his body up and loaded this poor guy into 55-gallon drums.
We both heard the story and then turned to look at one another in a sort of stunned silence.
Suddenly, Dad made a sign of the cross.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"May he rest in pieces," he said.
And that was Dad.
The mass was a celebration of sorts.
As many family members who could showed up and then we all went for coffee.
My Aunt shared my "Peace On You," wish and I told the "Rest in Pieces" tale.
"You guys are too much," My Aunt said. "Rest in Pieces."
"Peace On You!"
It struck my Aunt funny because she had not heard that in a few years and as she turned to my Mom for the sign of peace...she was in a pretty good giggle.
After the mass we talked about some of the rather unique things Dad had to say about God, church and the Bible stories.
"God worked a lot of miracles," Dad once said, "But the one that gets me is when Moses tied his ass to a tree and walked ten miles."
Dad swore that was a Bible story.
Yet Mom and Dad certainly introduced us to the church.
I still go as often as I can...but the one thing that I've learned in later years is to rid myself of the guilt.
The nuns had scared the crap out of us for a lot of years.
I still feel guilty...and I don't do a whole helluva' lot of sinning these days.
Yet before Mass was even over I laughed a little on my own.
Here's the story:
Dad was driving the car over the Golden Gate Bridge into San Francisco for work. It wasn't even 6 a.m. so we were both wiping sleep out of our eyes, knowing that we had a long day of work ahead.
The man on the radio was telling us about a murder in another part of the country.
A man, who was a drug dealer, had been strangled and then, in an effort to hide the body, his killers had chopped his body up and loaded this poor guy into 55-gallon drums.
We both heard the story and then turned to look at one another in a sort of stunned silence.
Suddenly, Dad made a sign of the cross.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"May he rest in pieces," he said.
And that was Dad.
The mass was a celebration of sorts.
As many family members who could showed up and then we all went for coffee.
My Aunt shared my "Peace On You," wish and I told the "Rest in Pieces" tale.
"You guys are too much," My Aunt said. "Rest in Pieces."
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