To get back to the cocoa: appropriate to the hellish metaphor involved, the cocoa was brewed down in the basement of St. James by a volunteer horde of big sadistic Catholic grandmothers dressed in white, inventors of a new and cryptic form of suffering, who stood cackling around giant steaming cauldrons whence they served to us slavering communicant kids - who therefore hadn't eaten anything since dinner the day before and now had to eat breakfast in about 5 minutes before class (is there anything hungrier than a kid after communion who's had fresh crumb buns in his school bag for over an hour?) - big heavy white mugs of cocoa that had been boiled until hot enough to scald God. There were many blessed blistered palates those mornings, borne in saintly silence throughout the day, and it wasn’t from taking communion with a sinful soul...
Yes, this brings back memories of Sister Mary Holy Picture and others of the sisterhood who taught us all at St Joseph's back home square in Pawtucket, RI.
Now that the archives have been breached and scary stuff is about to issue forth, you'll have to stay tuned for some tales from that stage of my life.
Of course, this could also serve as fair warning to stay away for a good while.
But you might miss something, so come on back. I'll try to be good.
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