O, COME, ALL YE FAITHFUL!!!

If you went to Catholic school around the mid ‘60s, you’d be required to sing most Christmas carols in Latin. This wasn’t a problem for a little kid born with a gift of languages, as apparently I was. So "O, Come, All Ye Faithful" (Adeste Fideles) became to my ear " A Test Day Fee Dallas!"

Maybe our lyrics did not bear up well under scrutiny; but our voices were angelic! No. Seriously. Our school’s church was not just a church; it was a bona fide CATHEDRAL. And the acoustics in that place were magnificent. A person could hock a loogie and STILL come off sounding like they were lifting up their voice to the Lord.

In the fifth grade, our classmate, the talented Ms. Vicky, was selected as the official organist who played at ALL the weekday masses. She got a special dispensation from the Pope that allowed her to come to class LATE. . . And to bring her bagged breakfast and eat it AT HER DESK!!!

Shut up! We were absolutely apoplectic over this departure from classroom decorum. And until Vicky pinned that last Cocoa Puff against the side of her plastic bowl and then slurped down the remaining milk, no one heeded a word Sister Mary Alice Henry Claire had to say about decimals, diagramming, or what Kansas’s chief export was.

Even Chris Kane and I were not immune to Miss Vicky’s celebrity and we, too, watched her breakfast ritual – even when it meant curtailing one of our frequent dandruff wars. Our skirmishes followed this simple format: shake your head vigorously over your desktop for several seconds; swipe the surface with your index finger, capturing as many droppings as possible; and then present your finger for Frank Fenton’s inspection so he could declare the winner.

At the time, I never suspected a gender bias was afoot. But upon recent reflection, I remember Frank declaring for Christ Kane a lot more than he did for me. I wonder how you say ‘misogynist’ in Latin.

As kids, we thrived on normalcy and constancy. Vicky gave us that every day with her brown-bagged breakfast. Imagine how unhinged we’d have become if, one day, she reached into her bag and pulled out a muffin, or a piece of fruit, or a slice of crumb cake!!! Hey, speaking of cake . . .

CAKE COMMENTS:

"Silent night, Holy night. All is Small, all is Tall," intoned one fan.

"You better watch out; you better not cry; you better not pout, I’m telling you why: I’m getting you a Small But Tall for Christmas!" enthused another.

"Then one foggy Christmas night, Santa came to say, ‘Rudolph, with our nose so bright, can’t you find me a cake tonight?’" warbled another enthusiast!

CAKE FACTS:

One Small But Tall will feed 15 wise men but only 12 merry gentlemen!