Tambourines And Thuribles

I went to a Catholic grade school.  Going to mass was a pretty regular occurrence.  We actually had some teachers from the school who played instruments, so they would be in this little group up front playing two guitars while one rather mean teacher with dark rings under her eyes would play the tambourine.  Now I know nothing about this "instrument" and I'm sure it requires some skill, but I'm going to assume it's easy to pick up.  I'm thinking anyone who can modestly keep a beat will excel at the tambourine.  It just always felt like a silly instrument.  And seeing this mean teacher display her unknown talent to the school's eight grades of children, well, that was always strange (and kind of funny).  And in case you're doubting that she was truly mean, she once yelled at a really good friend of mine.  Well, she yelled at the kid next to him who was borrowing my friend's notes from the previous day, as that kid was out sick and asked for notes to catch up.  The mean teacher actually yelled at the kid borrowing the notes, and I will never forget what she said: "WHAT ARE YOU?! A MASOCHIST??!!!"  Now back then, I had NO clue what that meant.  But my friend was way smarter than the rest of us.  He knew.  And he went home and told his parents.  Back then parents trusted teachers if their kids got in trouble (for the most part).  But this situation was different.  His mom called the school.  The school spoke to the teacher.  And my friend was treated like royalty for the rest of the school year.  And rightfully so.  He was a good guy.  And very smart.  And he had a disheveled way about him back then that I think got confused with him being a poor student.  But his grades proved that theory wrong.  So the mean teacher, you see, was just mean.

Yelling teachers, though, were pretty common.  Like I mean they yelled at the top of their lungs (are they allowed to do that now?)  I remember the bad kids getting yelled at.  I remember getting shouted at a lot for not singing loudly (or at all) during mass.  I remember being a nervous kid.  

So one day during mass, the priest is lighting incense up on the altar and the incense hasn't even TOUCHED the charcoal disk in the thurible and absolutely no smoke of any kind has been produced, but those kids, you know the ones, start coughing in the back of the church.  Fakers.  

A buddy of mine standing next to me during the mass starts whispering about how the wine in the chalice is turning into real human blood.  He is going on and on about this and it actually started to make me a little sick.  I kept picturing the priest drinking real blood.  And I may have prayed to God to make one of those teachers yell at this kid to shut up.  But he kept going on and on (and you're not supposed to speak during that part).  

And then it happens:  I feel myself getting light-headed.  And I KNOW I'm going to drop and bang my head on the pew.  I start to sway.  My face feels icy cold.  My legs are rubber.  Suddenly, a nun swoops upon me and pulls me out of there (I bet that annoying kid was thinking she was coming for him and his big mouth).  She rushes me up the aisle and everyone is now convinced I'm in some serious trouble.  But she was rushing me to an outside door to get some air.  Had me sit on a step with my head down.   And it helped.  She saved me.  

After mass, some kids asked me what I had done to get in such major trouble.  I acted like I didn't want to talk about it.  I was gonna ride that wave.

Anyway, I saw the below photo and that memory came flooding into my brains.  I feel it perfectly represents every aspect of that day in church (especially that nun keeping an eye on me).

Image by JHM CREATIONZ.