Religion

As Maryville was a Catholic facility, religion played a very important role in our lives.  We were young, vulnerable and did exactly what the nuns wanted.  If you did not go along with whatever they preached, you paid a terrible price.  Power and fear are deeply motivational tools when you want children, or anyone for that matter, to obey; just look at any dictatorship. 

Most mornings Sister Madelyn would flip on the overhead dorm lights and start yelling “let us praise the lord, let us praise the lord”. Now, although it was her request for us to praise the lord before thinking of anything else, praising the lord was rarely the first thought in my mind.  The idea of going back to sleep usually won.  We were expected to fall out of bed, fall on our knees and pray.  The prayer we were demanded to recite went like this: Jesus hanging on the cross, tell me what did I, did I make the tears drop dear lord, did I make you cry, I’m a naughty child, as naughtiest as can be…….. It wasn’t bad enough that we felt destroyed because our parents didn’t want us, but we had an additional burden that we were the children who made Jesus cry, because were so bad - it is truly remarkable that any of us survived.

Every Sunday and on other religious holidays we attended Mass. We were expected to kneel through most of the Mass which was hard and challenging for small children.  There were five priests assigned to Maryville and we never knew which priest was going to say Mass.  This was important because of our desire for breakfast.  At Maryville, our meals fit in around Mass.  We would eat dinner at five every day, so by eight the next morning we were famished, the only obstacle between us and breakfast, was the speed with which the priest could orate the Mass. Some priests said Mass with a rapidity that kept the service moving and breakfast closer, while others languished on their words in a way that made you wonder if it would ever end.  As the priest entered the church, there would be either a collective sigh of relief or a very unhappy quiet groan; all of us knew who said Mass quickly and who drug it out endlessly. 

Despite my general desire not to be there, there were certain good moments that came during the services. In the 50s, the Mass was given in Latin and there was a lot of singing of the hymns – I liked the singing particularly during the Christmas season.  During Christmas we would sing the Gregorian chants as well as other well known Christmas songs – it was fun, it made me feel like a kid. It was nice to get those windows of happiness no matter how small. I still miss that part.