Angel Sighting?

Yesterday,Lola, one of the cats who lives here finally achieved the goal she pursues daily. She busted out. She was like a Chicago Bears running back.She spotted a temporary hole in the defense and in a moment she was outside on my steps. I am unable to chase after her and so as she stood outside ,her fascination with the vast expanse of the outdoors kept her from dashing away. But all I had to get her back in was the hope I could sweet talk her. I called her name calmly and invited her back in and while she indicated she heard me,she wasn't particularly interested in my invitation.

Suddenly,a passerby, a young man with a beard,baseball cap and backpack happened by on the walk and looked at me as if to ask if I needed help. "I need her in here" I said. He approached my steps and Lola,being the social feline she is,actually greeted him as he got to her. But as he tried to grab her to bring her in,Lola literally turned tail and ran back inside.

"God bless you",said the passerby as he left. Had never seen him before but whoever he was,he saved the day

GOODBYE SAINT WILLIAM SCHOOL

 The credits are rolling,the school bell will ring for dismissal one last time and for more than a century of memories.

Remember,St.William Parish remains open.Masses every weekend.  The school is closing.

I have been chronicling my memories as a student,employee and volunteer. And while I am not finished with those recollections, today requires something different.

    A proper goodbye.

    Those of us who walked those halls in any capacity can mourn the fact we will never be in those hallowed hallways again.

    Remember the graduating class pictures from every year,every generation of students who benefitted from the quality education they received there? 

    Remember all the activity and buzz of the school hall? What a treat it was as a student, to escape the confines of the classroom to see a presentation,celebration or ceremony? After the school day that hall hosted

hundreds and hundreds of meetings and parties and fundraisers. The walls down there are embedded with memories of good times past. My parents had their 50th anniversary celebrated there. Clowning At the Corners and Raising the Roof and the local celebrities that visited our school down there. The St.Joseph tables,St.Rocco, just too much to recount.

   In a previous chapter of this blog I mentioned the principals who served when I was a student and a few when I was employed there.

   The best of the principals I worked with as an employee and as a volunteer was Mary Bauer. I have such great respect for this woman who led our school with class, grace and at times,a little humor. I could go to Mrs.Bauer with anything and she never failed to help... St.William related or life related. And she made it her business to patronize our fundraiser...to come back to school during her week off, to attend "Raising the Roof". She supported that event in person and deed. When I needed something as we prepped, I knew the principal would partner with me to make it happen. Tremendously supportive.

    I experienced many school secretaries,all wonderful. But Mary Konopacki is my all time favorite. Her welcoming smile and easy going manner endeared her to students who needed her. She was their mom away from mom and I never heard one thing about her that wasn't positive. 

     When I worked there I would visit with her and we shared many laughs and stories. As our resident Cub fanatic I could tease her about their misfortunes which were many, but she was ever the good sport and a most pleasant presence.

      And there's my great friend,Karen Zaccaria  who taught their 37 years and will ring the final bell. Seeing her made St.William feel like home and to me,it was.

        So many gifted and wonderful teachers whom I considered friends like Terry,Noelle,Cary,Mary ,Helen ,Laura and Marge and Karen.

         People I worked with like Dan and Jim and Rich and Johnny and the "Manny"  I mentioned in earlier chapters. Cooped up in a small room beneath the stairs marked "Employees", you learned a lot about a person.

       The morning of 9/11 in that hall with students....I was sitting with the great priest Dan Brandt as his pager started giving us some reports. We watched a clown on stage with boxes. Not knowing the magnitude of what was going on we laughed and warned the clown in  giggley whispers not to open the box just in case..  

    Later we learned the magnitude of what had happened and to this day Fr.Dan and I exchange 9/11  texts of rememberance of that morning in the school hall.

     Mrs.Bauer and Secretary Mary led the school with strength and courage that day in an unprecedented situation.

     In the final years of its scholastic life , the school  was sheperded by Principal Jennifer Brown-Frazzini who I have only recently come to know. The St.William community owe her gratitude for seeing this treasured facility through its final days. How bittersweet this must be for her. Thank you Principal Brown-Frazzini.

     The doors of St.William,a place I can see from my house, will always live in my heart. It has been part of the rhythm of life in a  community that will be much poorer for its closing.

     I don't know what will become of the buildings nor how long those two buildings will be empty. But our hearts will always be full and our memories warm and the spirit of the school with us for all time.

    Farewell dear St.William. 

ST. WILLIAM STORIES 12 ON AND OFF THE CLOCK

 I kept working at St.William still hoping my ticket out  would be my writing. 

 As I worked there I was having articles printed in the Tribune and Sun Times which kept the hopium flowing.Maybe tomorrow,next week or next month I would stop sweeping floors and sweep the nation instead. I am  reminded of the old tv show "Taxi" where the characters drove taxis as they waited for something better to come along,their true calling.

   But like on "Taxi",while  you hope for something better you begin to put down roots in your not chosen profession.

   And so it was at St.William. Faces became familiar,routines entrenched themselves, relationships formed.and getting out of there seemed less and less attractive after awhile.

    I got the chance to know the teachers and witness their educational skills while also seeing their personal sides.

     I would almost look forward to seeing them in their rooms after school when I entered to sweep up. 

      They would be working on what teachers work on when the students leave. Some treated me like I was just the cleaning guy and I knew enough to be quiet,do my job and leave their room. Others treated me like a fellow employee and we joked and talked and I wasn't in a rush to move on to the next room.

       Only once in my many years at St. William did I develop a crush on a teacher. I knew the odds of any real romance developing were below zero, but I really looked forward to seeing her after the school day ended...or before it began for that matter. Obviously I won't name the object of my affection but her initials were MKB. She was attractive,a bubbling personality and someone I enjoyed seeing. 

I believe I told her about my writing lest she think I didnt have higher ambitions.As tempting as I was to see if she might like to go for coffee once I couldnt summon up the courage. She only taught at school for a short time and eventually married.

     This is not a tell all and my aim is to protect the innocent but in my time as an employee I did indeed see teachers off campus but nothing serious,just pleasant very nice ladies that I was fortunate to spend time with outside of work.

      I also had a friend teaching there,a wonderfully gifted teacher married to my pal and former employee,Manny. Its always nice to have a genuine friend in the workplace and she was mine.

     There were two times a year when I  felt particularly thankful to be part of St.William.

      One was the Christmas Party and the Secret Ssnta tradition leading to it. It was a tradition I looked forward to,not just for the fun,but for the chance to be myself among my fellow employees.

       I would go home for  lunch on the day of the Christmas Party,wash up and change clothes and return for the party in something other than jeans,a t shirt and my headphones. 

      The maintenance team would always grab a back table in the school library rather than seat ourselves at a faculty table.. One year we were actually termed "the fun table" and became preferred seating for the wackiest among us. I could be myself at these gatherings with or without the wine we consumed. Our secret Santa was revealed with the giving of the final. "big" gift which I always tried to make unique. Make 'em know they were secret Santad! And if I could get off a comment that made the assembled laugh, it was an extra gift for me. 

    I loved those school Christmas parties in the library.

     While not as personal,the end of the school year gatherings were a nice perk.

Most of them were held at a restaurant . Seating was everything here. You didnt want to be caught seated with someone you didnt know too well or whom might make you hesitate to be yourself. And you would prefer not to sit next to the pastor.

     Besides the seating, there was always the question of what to order . It was all free but you did not wsnt to be obvious about taking advantage of that perk. Yet you tell yourself you worked hard, might even work harder during the summer so you felt a little entitled. You generally wound up holding back, maybe having an extra drink, and always feeling relieved when the pastor or principal pulled out the credit card.

    When that event concluded we would bid our farewells and head for home. I remember all of them as pleasant and again, a chance to be ourselves.

    Working at St.William could be hard,hot,taxing work but there was down time too which was always welcome.

     And then there were down times that were also work times. Ill chronicle that along with some St.William folks Ill never forget,next time.

St. William Stories 11 OFF TO WORK WE GO

 When we last left our questionable hero, I was learning the ropes regarding the inner  workings of St.William. Now I was on the inside as an employee and it presented a multitudr of challenges but also a number of benefits.

I had a nice break every day as I was able to escape the scholastic environment daily for about thirty minutes or so to go home for  lunch. I also wore an escape device around my neck in the form of radio headphones. I cannot overemphasize  the sanity saving advantages of putting on those headphones to hear familiar radio voices while you are performing the least attractive of tasks. 

    I think very often, people thought I had frozen out all activity with those headphones on. That was never true. Many times I wore them on my neck with enough volume for me to hear as my ears were uncovered. Even when i wore them over my ears,nine of ten times the volume was low enough where I could hear normal conversation. Contrary to what a pastor might have thought,it never interfered with my job and it made the day go by faster. Sanity saver.

    There was another upside too. St.William had some genuinely enjoyable and good people as my coworkers. I acknowledge the school secretary when I started ,Dolores ,who in combination with our first lay teacher principal were people I respected and trusted.

    Not that there werent tense moments.

    I was once called into that principal's office for an incident on the playground.

I was out there during recess either tending to my work or returning from lunch,i cannot remember which. But for some reason I will never know, a female student ran up to me and hugged me. 

     I was completely aware that this was not a good thing no matter how well intentioned and I immediately threw my arms up to make it very obvious I was not returning that hug.

     I don't know who saw or saw fit to report that but I was called into the principal's office and told in no uncertain terms that there was to be no physical contact between students and staff, something I not only knew but avoided during the incident. While I was taken aback by the stern talking to I received, I know now that the principal was just doing her job and she was going to do it even though I had done nothing wrong.

   As I said earlier,the work was occasionally difficult and disgusting. Moving desks and other heavy items from first floor to third,especially on a hot day was brutal. And I was younger than the head custodian who must've had it worse. The students were not allowed to help . Some days we would have help from the sheriff's department who would bring in a busload of non violent offenders to do community service. They were well guarded by deputies and we were allowed to give them assignments.

   Another terrible task took place in summer after school was out. 

     All the floors had to be scrubbed and waxed.The scrubbing and waxing was done by the head guy,Dan, who knew how to wield a scrubbing machine which was like a bucking bronco and would take you for a ride if you didnt kerp it under control. I followed the scubbing with mop and bucket. Then Dan would wax. There were days he didnt feel like doing it and we would just do little tasks or ride to Ace Hardware. Those were easy type days.

     Another awful task was moving all the clasdroom furniture and desks from one side of the room to the other .That would leave one side bare so Dan could scrub and wax. Once dried i had to move everything back to clear the other side of the room so Dan could tepeat the process. Ultimately I had to put the room back exactly as the teacher had it from a diagram we had.. Doing all that moving in a school minus air conditioning was no fun.

    But there was fun to be had as a St.William employee and more on tbat coming up.

ST. WILLIAM STORIES #10 THE RELUCTANT EMPLOYEE

 There was considerable distance between my graduating St.William and my return. That time was full of learning lessons and odd jobs, once achieving management status at a local record and tapes store. But that material is for my never to be written autobiography. This is St William centric.

   Given my proximity to St.William and allegiance to same, I don't know why but I had strayed. I wasn't attending church and had no expectation of ever walking the school hallways again. 

     Until......

     My mother,as devoted to the Lord as anyone I have ever known, alerted me to a small blurb in the church bulletin that sought writers for a new parish fundraiser called "Clowning At the Corners".

     As many young people do,I had dreams of pursuing a career. I wanted to be a writer when I grew up and I'm not sure how it happened but I had grown up. I was always on the lookout for writing opportunities and while I wasn't terribly excited about the prospect of writing for something I knew nothing about, I hesitantly responded to the ad and the response was rapid.

     A priest named Fr.Walt  called me and based on my thin experience as a writer at that time, he offered me not just the opportunity to write for this "Clowning At the Corners" fundraiser but to chair its writing committee. I sheepishly accepted and this turned out to be my ticket back to the faith that I was raised in and my reunion with St.William that would last for decades.

     Soon enough I found myself in a room with Amy ,Mike, John and Marge tasked with the job of helping directors who were putting on one of the many shows to be presented at Clowning. And I was having fun. Once I had hoped the job would pay but what it kick started for me meant more than  money. I was determined to be myself,no standing on ceremony or being officious. My philosophy throughout my association with Clowning was that nobody needs a second job, especially one with no pay. In that spirit,my fellow writers and I got a kick out of the work we were assigned, though it was never a lot.But people who previously didnt know eachother were now friends and that was the "Clowning" event in a nutshell. It brought me back to church.

    This is not a Clowning diary and though I have a hundred stories, I will stick to my relationship with St.William as an employee and file Clowning away until I remember my time as a volunteer.

      As I mentioned earlier,I dreamed of being a writer and no other jobs appealed to me or caused me to seek them out. I had chosen my course and that was that.

       Until.......

      Father Walt ,my Clowning contact alerted me that there was a position open at St.William that offered actual money. While I had hoped for something more prestigious this was as an assistant custodian. I was not captivated by this. After all,I was a writer. I was writing for a very popular local tv show, and sure that this was a mere stepping stone to bigger and better things. But in the end,the lure of working so near home ,getting paid regularly and having St.William  back in my life due to Clowning, I accepted.

    I had absolutely no qualifications for this assignment.I was at the mercy of the head custodian named Dante,a quirky Italian who spoke with the accent and was one of the most entertaining persons I had ever met. Don't get me wrong, Dante was a good man and when he felt like working he did his job well. When he didn't feel like working he would drive home for extra long lunch hours and sneak home well before he was supposed to leave. That's right,there were times when the entire school,two buildings, were entrusted to me, a guy who had to consult a manual to change a light bulb.

    I was fortunate to work with another guy who was the brother of a good friend. His name was Manny and we became very good friends. Manny knew stuff. He was capable ,devoted to his duties and funny as heck. Dan,Manny and I had so many laughs it didn't matter that our principal,Sister Barbara was all business and as strict as they come. Manny didn't suffer fools gladly and while Sister Barbara was no fool, she was ,on occasion, difficult and Manny made his discontent with her known. I witnessed him going into her office flustered a couple of times and I think it was better for both when Manny left for greener pastures which meant just Dan and I which often meant  just me.

     I was off to a slow start in this new field and Dan, the vetetan custodian was not patient with this rookie.

       "You don't know how to work!"he yelled at me early on.

        What he meant was I didnt work the way he did. I had my way of doing things,he had his. We had 4 or 5 good arguments during my much longer than intended tenure there. There would be short periods where we didnt speak but it was never long before he would have me laughing again with funny stories in that deep accent and doing impressions of some St.William staff. He did a spot on impression of our pastor at the time, on request for anyone who wanted to see it.

    Dan had a volatile temper and wasnt always receptive to requests from teachers and staff which of course,was part of the job. As a result, sometimes faculty members were hesitant to make requests of him. I was in fairly good stead with the teachers. After all I was sweeping their rooms each day after classes and if they were in the room as I worked, we would invariably chat cordially and I even showed my real personality,peppering those conversations with bits of humor.

As a result,some teachers saw me as more approachable than Dan, so often I was the go between for their requests.

   My life as an employee at my alma mater got better with a change of principal.

    Sister Barbara was most capable but in my opinion, not as proficient with people skills.

     Enter Mrs.Linda  with a mega watt  smile and a pleasant personality, the first lay teacher to ever become principal of St William. Reflections on her and what I learned from my second go around at a St.William education...from the inside this time, is next.

School's Out!

   That building known as "the old school" was a pillar of the community but also a friend.

     That old school served as a catcher for so many rubber baseballs that found their way into a black square painted onto its back section in the big St.William parking lot. My friends and I spent many sunny afternoons throwing those rubber balls at that square as we also stood in front of it with our baseball bats trying to slap that pitch before it smacked the venerable bricks of the school.

   I spent lots of sunny days  running around on that asphalt,ruining my hips(😁) but enjoying baseball  through the game of "Fast Pitch" with friends. I bet there are still rubber balls on the old school roof.

    That big school building stood there reflecting the lights from a ferris wheel, a Tilt-A-Whirl and all the attractions provided by the carnival that used to occupy our lot every August. While its been a very long time since the carnivals, it is among my forever memories of the school.

     I experienced two principals in my student life at St.William. The aforementioned Sister Paschaletta and at the finish,Sister Eloise whom I would interact with post student. I interviewed her as a local news reporter covering a break in at the school years after I had graduated. Sister Eloise was a kind,soft spoken but firm principal. Unlike the more business like nun in Sister P. , Sister Eloise was a pleasant change....and not the last principal I would experience as you will see later.

    The school secretary is a very important person in the grammar school orbit. She is the go between, the safe space betwern you and the authority of the principal. You came to her when you skinned your knee or you felt sick or you had to bring her something you were instructed to deliver by your teacher.  She was, in a way, your mom away from mom and it helped if she were sociable and caring.

    The School secretary most famous in St.William lore was Mrs.Small. Heads still bow at the mention of her name! I think she might have come with the construction of the school and was as much a part of it as the bricks. She was there a long time! A gentle woman with white hair, Mrs.Small was St.William School  for generations. Her husband Adrian even worked there as custodian. We also had Mr.McCarthy and Mr.Duhane.

     We had school busses in those days and male students were obliged to serve as "bus boys" to ride with a driver and attempt to keep order among your fellow students. So though I lived across the street there was a period where I rode the bus each morning and afternoon. I was not among those who used the position as a power base. "I'm gonna report you" was the go to line for the bus boy. I was less into being a tattletale than some others though I am sure I turned in a report or two , at least to show I was on the job..

     And while I didn't get to walk out with my class on the last day of school , I did walk out of church in my blue cap and gown with them the night we graduated, putting the punctuation mark on my time as an average to good  student at St. William.

      But I returned and that's what I will be remembering next.

THE GRADUATE. #8

 There was a notorious nun awaiting us in the upper grades. We had heard tales of her notorious grumpiness since the sixth grade. She frequently haunted the hallway to chew out an offending student in full view of passersby. She was the one,the only....Sister Solaria!

    It was a relief to learn that my homeroom teacher in 8th grade would be Sister Reinaldis and not Sister Solaria. Yet there was no escape. Because when it came time for English class, it was time for......Sister Rose???? Yes,Sister Solaria had changed her name to a more gentle sounding Sister Rose,perhaps to rid herself of the baggage that came with being the fastest knuckle whacker in the west. Her name had changed,her mood not so much.

    I was fortunate enough to do fairly well in my English classes (this blog not withstanding) so I seldom was an irritant to Sistet Rose like many of my fellow students.

    For all her bluster and bad moods, she was not without humor though it was very dry. But I could appreciate that about her. As I said ,I did pretty well in her class but she wasn't one to ignore a little mistake. I was on the receiving end of her verbal barbs when I failed to come up with the answer she was looking for. I can still see and hear it today as she said very calmly , "Kwit,your stupidity is colossal."

I almost busted out laughing. I had never heard those two words "stupidity" and colossal" in the same insult and I appreciated it. So Sister Rose, wherever you are in the great beyond, I remember you not with dread and fear but with humor.

    Our home room teacher Sister Reinaldis was a competent veteran nun who was aware of very little that didnt involve her job. Her lack of knowledge of the world beyond the classroom and convent  made her easy pickins for the most disruptive and fun bunch of pranksters with whom Ive ever shared a classroom. She was pranked so many times by my 8th grade class,I wouldn't have blamed her for resigning mid year. 

   She had just the trace of a German accent which made it easy for the class to do impressions of her. It seemed almost every day that bunch had something new in store for Sister Reinaldis. And when she got frustrated with us she would get almost comically upset and her accent thickened.

   There was the time they hid a transistor radio on low volume in one of the cabinets in the back of the room tuned to a country music station, perplexing the poor nun as she demanded to know who had the radio. The answer was,of course,nobody. 

    Or the time one of the students brought a small can to class that when turned upside down,made the sound of a cow mooing. We would pass that can around so the moo would always be coming from a different place in the room.

This added to her frustration as every time she thought she cornered the "cow" it had moooooved along. Meanwhile we were biting our lips to keep from laughing.

    But the greatest and most laugh inducing prank might be considered X rated and was definitely naughty so lets keep it just between us.

    One of the students had brought a prophylactic to school. The students had made it a habit to put all manner of silly things on the desk of Sister Reinaldis but this was daring.

     And so it was that Sister Reinaldis found it on her desk,stood up in front of the class stretching it full length as if it were a balloon and mumbling "How does this silly stuff always get on my desk?"

She obviously had no idea what it was and her class was almost crying with suppressed laughter at a sight few people have ever seen. A nun stretching a birth control device and wondering what it was.

    That eighth grade class was something.

    Being one who always appreciated humor I enjoyed these classmates because you never knew what they had planned for poor,frustrated Sister each day. It was also the most accepted I ever felt. While I never planned any of the misdeeds I passed the cow can when it came my way and happily kept all the confidences of the perpetrators.

    Looking back as an adult who has achieved at least some level of maturity, I feel sorry for what this nun was subjected to by my class as she just tried to do her job. Yet their misbehavior made 8th grade the best experience I had as a student at St.William,including the time I won the 4th grade spelling bee with the word "Alleluia."

  Sister Reinaldis got her revenge on the last day of school ,our final day as grammar school students.

    When the bell rung to end our eight year run as St. William students, she kept us in our seats. As freedom rung for the rest of the student body as they joyfully hit the streets for summer, we sat in silence,the penalty for our sins.

     As Sister revelled in having the last laugh ,she fixed her gaze on me.

     "Kwit,"she said "You have been a prince of a fellow. You may go."

      I rose up with the smile of a person who felt liberated despite taking part in the school year mayhem and walked out of the classroom and grammar school life by myself.

    And there you have my biggest regret of my student years at St.William. Back then all that was important was the escape. But if I had it to do over again I would've politely declined Sister's offer and staid with my class. I should've ended by leaving the building with my classmates.

   Little did I know I would be back.

ST. WILLIAM BITS. (#7)

    Like every student who ever walked the halls of St.William, a number of events,perhaps only noteable to me, occurred during my 8 years there.

  Like the time Sister Paschaletta ,our principal,was giving us a guided tour of the church altar when I was in one of the early grades.

"Be careful you do not knock over the sanctuary candle," she warned, just before I knocked over the red glass encased sanctuary candle. No punishment other then Sister's glare and the embarrassment as my peers gasped and giggled.

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   I had my own "off school" circle of good friends many of whom attended St.William but in other grades. I didn't have a lot of in school buddies but one was certainly Ted. He and his younger brother Jack were buzz cutted good guys and their mother and my mom  became friends as well but the ladies didn't have buzz cuts.

  On two occasions I attended school in a leg cast. Once it was after an ill attempt at ice skating resulted in a broken ankle, and another when I had a malady known as "Osgood Schlatter" which at the time we mistakenly referred to as "Osgood Slattercres". Anyway it was named for the fellow who discovered this disease apparently,as if being named "Osgood" wasn't enough of a handicap. I had a bump under my kneecap and were it to go castless one leg would be shorter than the other.

And these were the days of heavy plaster casts that only came in powdery white.

   In class I would have to keep that leg elevated and I got my own personal student valet. As I was on crutches, some poor kid was assigned to carry my books for me and assist me with anything requiring two legs. I think on one occassion it was my buddy Ted. And while a student butler  may sound like a nice perk, when you're a kid that doesn't enjoy drawing attention to yourself,  half standing out in the crowd is not desirable..

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I think I had pneumonia in the second grade. I remember getting a bunch of class made get well cards early in my learning career. It was the first time I learned about fellowship even though I'm certain the teacher assigned them to do it.

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I've made it clear,I hope, that I valued my catholic education at St.William but it wasn't without its drawbacks. 

   Some of the nuns would be a little extreme in their attempt to save our souls and wouldn't mind using scare tactics.

   When I was in one of the early grades,a nun told us that should we ever say anything God felt to be particularly objectionable, we might be stricken with tongue cancer.

      I was a young,impressionable and sensitive kid and that hit me hard. And while I never insulted the good Lord, I feared I may have done so unintentionally. I was nervous I would be struck sick and I wound up at the local doctor. 

     When my mom and I told him what made me so anxious, he looked away and mumbled "Those damn nuns." 

      It was the first time I had ever heard anyone be critical of the Sisters. And whether that was the root cause or not I have been a world class hypochondriac since.

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   I would go home for lunch each day because I lived across the street. I had the luxury of eating in my own surroundings,having a non public restroom  and staying home until just a few minutes before the bell rung for afternoon classes.

    

   One particular afternoon in November,perhaps watching "Bozo's Circus" (a show for which I would eventually write) a news bulletin announced that President Kennedy had been shot.

     All the kids were in the playground for recess, oblivious to what was transpiring in the moment. And,as one who could wait until the last moment to return to recess and class, I came back to the playground armed with  this momentous news. 

     Naturally,the students I told thought I was joking but it didn't keep them from passing it around.

      When we all filed back in, it was still just a rumor that started with me. I even had a teacher ask me about it and I assured her it was true.

       Minutes later an announcement came over the public address system at school making it official. The President had been shot and we were all to join in prayer.

      When it was announced that John Kennedy had passed, the entire school went across the street to the church.

       We were just kids suddenly engulfed in a world of adult situations and exposed in horrible fashion to existence outside a hopskotch board.

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   One of my girl pals was Kathy Kroger (this is a rare instance when I will use an actual last name because it is lyrical.) 

Kathy was a tall, sociable, athletic girl  who was a "one of the guys" type. She was always very kind to me and while we were never great friends,we got along well. 

     When my mom got a job for a year or so while I was in a mid grade I wasn't able to go to my house for lunch. 

      The few times I had lunch in school didn't work for me. The days seemed much longer,I had no real social connections and I felt out of place.

       So my mom made arrangements for me to go to Kathy's house a few blocks away for lunch.

        I don't recall Kathy herself ever being there so I'm thinking even SHE didn't go home for lunch. But her mom was very kind to me and I still remember the big uniquely shaped home and the top floor where Kathy lived. She also had train puzzles which I thought were very cool.

I had an affinity for trains and my dad would take me to the Mont Clare station many evenings just to watch the trains come in .

     But I digress. Kathy and her mom were part of my St.William saga. And after lunching at her house for a school year, my mom stopped working and I was lunching back on my home turf.

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  I had interest in girls at school from about 6th grade on but I was a bit of a chubby introvert,not someone that would garner the attentions of a schoolgirl. They tended to favor the wise guys, the disruptors,the bunch much cooler than I. I had girls that interested me outside of the school building (starting when I was  4 years old)  but never another student.

   However,I think it was 7th grade when I took particular interest in a quiet ,reserved,intelligent blondish girl with a wry grin. Her name was Kathy and her friend was named Judy. I don't recall how it unfolded but I became friendly with Judy whose good friend was Kathy. I have always seemed to get along better with females. I was able to make them both laugh (intentionally) which is not a small detail at that age. It made you kind of unique to flash a sense of humor and I tried to win Kathy over with it. It also confirmed that I indeed had a personality.

   I leveraged whatever writing skill I had at that age  and made a really poor edition of a kind of humorous newspaper and would give Judy and Kathy a copy. The truth was,I only made two copies no matter what they may have thought. Of course today,two people with an actual newspaper seems to be a novelty.

    I sat behind Kathy or nearby anyway and I would do little stuff to try to amuse her as would my friend Gary. Gary was outrageous and unapologetically wacky and I couldn't tell you some of the stuff he did to tease these young ladies. He was harmless but definitely qualified as class clown.

     By years end I had it pretty bad for Kathy but of course I did nothing,had no moves and no game  and I don't even recall seeing her in 8th grade. How fleeting romance can be at that age.  But I remember her with fondness even today and hope both Kathy and Judy did well.

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Ah, I mentioned eighth grade. My final year as a St.William student. That's next time.

Oh,and I would have another crush at St.William but it wouldn't be as a student.

That's for later.

THERE'S NO KWIT ON THIS TEAM #6

The upper grades were always an exhilarating place to be.  You were climbing the grammar school ladder and starting to feel your oats. You had an exaggerated sense of wisdom and entitlement upon entering the world of higher education that you had only heard about previously.

   In seventh grade only one thing stood in the way of scholarly dominance. Eighth graders.

    At St.William, this rivalry was made manifest by an annual end of the school year  softball game between the seventh and eighth graders.

    Held starting at recess, the student body was invited to watch the game which more often than not resulted in the bigger and stronger eighth grade squads victorious.

    I was never a member of any of the cliques that composed these teams. No matter what kind of baseball talent you might possess, this was one of life's first lessons in ,"It's not WHAT you know,it's WHO you know."

    I was ignored in the composition of the 7th grade team. I wasn't athletically built by any means and I wasn't in with the in crowd.

    In eighth grade, apparently having seen me hit on the playground, the leader of the eighth grade pack, the crew cut kid with the freckles, Bill W. issued me an invitation to join the 8th grade team. Wow this was an honor! I was suitably excited that I would be among the softball elite, my baseball talent on display for the entire school to see. I am sure I bragged to family and friends about my selection ....so you can imagine my disappointment when Bill ,speaking for his clique, told me earlier on game day, that I would not be playing. Charlie Brown,I know how you feel.

   I went home for lunch and when I returned for the game,I wore my gym shoes just as I had planned when I was included. I would tell anyone who asked about my footwear that I had a game after school,though I did not. I hoped to look like I belonged and harbored the hope they may have a change of heart and play me.  They didn't.

   Now it can be told, Bill W and company. You never got to know the after school me.  I was better than just about anyone on that eighth grade squad. I had my own neighborhood baseball team, was team captain,regularly hit fourth and played a more than adequate third base. I knew my way around the diamond but was deprived of the chance to show my stuff in the biggest game of the school year because I wasn't a part of that select group.

    I suppose the 8th grade won the day I was left off the team but at that point I didn't care one way or the other. 

THE FACULTY

  It isn't controversial for anyone to be pro teacher. But for the record,I am four scare,absolutely second to none in my admiration for the women and men of this noble profession. Even more so for the teachers working in catholic schools where they earn less than their public school counterparts.

   From Arquila to Zameitis I remember those who gave me my grammar school education with fondness. And this wasn't my only interactions with teachers. Remember I later became an employee and a volunteer and even taught for a couple of months. That's all for later. 

  

  I already mentioned Sister Clarelle who ushered me into my catholic education and I regret I cannot remember all the names of the wonderful faculty of that day to distribute the credit they deserve.

  One of the nuns whose name I cannot remember , was an avid " Peanuts" (Charlie Brown variety) fan. She was not our home room teacher, but I remember wishing that she were. She had a wonderful collection of "Peanuts" merch and became my introduction to the genius of Charles Schulz whose work I like and admire to this day. She had the humor and good cheer that you'd expect from someone who enjoyed the wit of Schulz and she gave me that same appreciation. I still read that comic strip daily.

   

  My first lay teacher may have been Miss Carsello. She was a young  blonde and wore glasses. Culture shock to see someone with arms,legs and feet at the front of the room after a steady diet of the sinister black adornments worn by the nuns.  Miss Carsello  possessed a biting sense of humor. I recall her having names for some of us other than our own. Unusual nicknames reflective of our behavior. And one of Miss Carsello's punishments,which today might cause a litigious parent to sue, involved the student offender being required to wear a baby bonnet.  

   Now,I was,throughout my student tenure, a pretty well behaved kid. That's not to say I never did anything wrong but I wasn't a frequent offender . There were some in that class who modeled that bonnet almost daily.  

    It was getting late in the school year and I was one of the few who never had the dubious honor of wearing the bonnet. 

I am pretty sure Miss Carsello, who had married over the school year and now was  Mrs.Arquilla, knew I had yet to receive this punishment. I say that because as I remember it, I was singled out for a minor infraction (the equivalent of getting a ticket for littering) and provided laughter for my classmates as I put on the baby bonnet for the rest of the day. I bet no one misses the days when being humiliated was the consrquence for whispering in class.

   The time I made the class laugh minus a prop was when my classmate Diane W. was standing in the row next to my desk and was describing what I think was a fish. She extended both her arms to indicate the  length of the fish and I was seated close enough to her to move my head out of the way of her outstretched arm and the class laughed. I didnt do much, but they  laughed. Something might have clicked on with me in that moment because I still remember it as if it were yesterday and I have been trying to make people laugh ever since. With that simple motion,Diane W. ,you created a monster!😁😉

   Somewhere along the education way the school started dividing students into groups. There was group one made up of the students who were doing superior work,Group 2- the average students and Group 3 which came to be known as "the dumb kids". In actuality,these were the students that were struggling scholastically or had learning disabities and or behavior problems. You did not want to be in group three. I think I was in Group 3 a total of one time due to a  slump in my studies . My time in that group wasn't lengthy but as you can imagine,given the nature of dividing kids up by performance made an already judgemental age even more of a struggle. I found a cozy little niche in Group 2 and thats the group where I spent most of my school days during that period.  That group thing was never a good idea in my opinion. At an age where kids are struggling to fit in or find their identity, groups considered smart,average and dumb is of little help.

    Throughout my grammar school years the principal of St.Willam was a veteran of the student-teacher wars,Sister Paschaletta. She was principal for years by the time I enrolled and as I recall, retired when i hit the upper grades for a younger and more gentle leader in Sister Eloise. More on her later.

     I was fortunate enough not to get to know the furnishings inside the principal's office but we all had a healthy respect (and fear) of Sister Paschalleta. 

     The one interaction I had with her still puzzles me today. 

       Sister was filling in for an absent teacher. One of our assignments had been to draw the tail of any animal we chose. And yes,that still seems a little odd. Anyway,I drew a horse's tail and couldn't resist adding a little humor to it. I added a little bug to the tail and labelled it "Seymour The Flea." 

     A day or so later as we ascended the steps to the top floor classroom,Sister Paschaletta intercepted me to ask about my addition of "Seymour" to my artistry. I was surprised about her serious interest and I forget how I responded but I'm sure I said I just meant it as a joke. And that was that.

    Did Sister think I had an invisible friend? Did she think Seymour might be  a well known character she didn't know about? I will never know but I will always wonder.

    I believe Sister Lucy was my 6th or 7th grade nun and she was the General Patton of the convent. She was a sturdy woman who gave no quarter and adhered to the most strict aspects of our faith snd behavior. She promised heavenly retribution for our earthly transgressions and was of little patience. She referred to the popular rock and roll of the day as "african jungle music" so you can draw your conclusions from there. 

   Eighth grade deserves a column all its own so that's where I'll pick up next time.

ST. WILLIAM STORIES #4 THE STORM

 It was a dark and stormy day.

This isn't the start of a bad mystery novel or a book by Snoopy, but the actual description of a schoolday at St.William when i was a third or  perhaps fourth  grader.

 Storms seemed a little bit more rare back then but the one coming to that school near me  on this day was shaping up to be a most unpleasant one.

   It was about 2 pm when a tornado warning was issued for our area. We students as well as the faculty were properly concerned. Teacher shut the windows and closed the drapes. The only way we could measure the darkness starting to envelop us was via the skylights that were located above the first vertical row of desks. They were transitioning from light to dark.

   The sixth row of desks was located nearest those windows and the teacher instructed that row to move with their desks,into the cloak room which was schooltalk for the coat room,located behind the blackboard. We were told over the P.A. (school talk for the intercom,a speaker square located near the ceiling at the front of the room) that we would not be dismissed at the usual time unless a parent or guardian came to pick us up.

  While most of that incident is still vivid in my memory, I honestly can't recall if I requested my mom be called (I lived just across the street) or she called the school. In any case her call was taken by the previously referenced Father Ubowski who invited her to "come ahead."

.  I remember clearly experiencing the power and the fury of nature probably for the first time as my mother and I walked across the parking lot ,the charcoal sky making the illuminated school full of students and staff behind us look almost like a spaceship. The wind was whipping,the thunder rolled and I remember seeing,out of the corner of my eye in the northwest portion of the sky  a whirly patch of light, i remember it being of  orange hue,moving quickly. I dont know if it was a funnel or the start of a clearing line,a brighter sky...but by this time I was in a dead run, mom walking purposefully but well behind. 

I let myself into my house, left the door open for mom and got to my room,flinging myself onto my bed,beset with fear. I heard my mom come in and thats all I remember.

 As far as I know,a tornado did not touch down in our area that day but whatever angry storm stalked us  left this third grader scarred for years afterward.

Rumbles of thunder,darkening skies and flashes of lightning gave me a form of PTSD. MY childhood years were never the same. BUT ,on the plus side that incident sparked my interest in weather and its effects. I studied it on my own and became aquainted with the great Chicago meteorologist Harry Volkman with whom I spoke to on the phone before many a storm after that incident. That was heady stuff for an 8 or 9 year old because Mr.Volkman was more than a weather forecaster he was a bonafide television personality who took my calls.

   My interest in weather never waned and today I have at least an elementary knowledge of the science and can read weather maps and fashion a forecast.I learned why the atmosphere does what it does and made  my peace with it. I abhor those forecasters who use storms to get ratings and frighten their viewers , while deeply respecting a forecaster like Mike Caplan who is four square against using weather as a weapon.

 It is  because of St.William that I was able to meet meteorologists Amy Freeze, Dr.Dave Eiser,Phil Schwarz and Bill Bellis TV personalities all,and a reflection of my interest in meteorology born that stormy day as a young student. A silver lining to a very dark cloud.

   Because I was part of these St.William fundraisers as an adult  those fine people visited our school and I resumed contact with Mr.Volkman who did me the honor of appearing at St.William on three occasions. Turns out this weather legend never forgot me and eagerly would tell the people that came up to him as we made our rounds "I remember Jeff from when he was eight years old! He used to call me!" I might have been a little embarrassed but I was also very  proud that I had a connection to this media giant. And I was also thankful he stopped the recollection there instead of adding "He used to be scared (wit)less!"

ST. WILLIAM STORIES CHAPTER 3:The Priests

 I am the product of a Catholic education. I'm proud of that because I believe it instilled in me some genuine , strong values and I have St. William school to thank for giving me direction. That said, I certainly do not look down on those who do not have the spiritual boost that I had growing up, it's just that for me, this was a benefit I enjoy to this day. 

  Now comfortably ensconced in "the new school", the scholastic equivalent to being called up to the big leagues,we could concern ourselves more with reading,writing and arithmetic and less with malfunctions in the classroom,ear splitting bells and why those urinals didn't automatically flush more often.

 Besides the nuns and lay teachers we encountered daily,we also had numerous priests serving St.William parish paying occasional visits to our classroom to remind us of our obligations to our faith as well as provide sort of a spiritual "road map".

 The first priest who didn't seem imposing or officious and who didn't deal in  fire and brimstone was Father Francis Veto, a young reverend recently appointed to St.William. Father Veto was a down to earth guy who had a sense of humor,charm and wit,someone to whom we could relate. He used to allow us to write down questions anonymously,put them in a box during the week,and he would draw them out and answer them on his usual weekly visits. We all looked forward to Father Veto's drop ins. I learned several years later that Father Veto left the priesthood but that did not diminish his influence in my eyes.

  Not every priest had the gifts Father Veto had that would enable us to look forward to his classroom visits.

  It was someone's bright idea to ,on occasion,have the priests visit to distribute report cards. This amounted to a frightening day of reckoning because giving out our report cards might be.... Father Chester Ubowski. Father Ubowski was a good priest.When he celebrated mass,you KNEW mass had been celebrated. His sermons invariably started in his regular calm voice but would inevitably work himself into a lather, his voice  booming out in righteous indignation.  Yup,he had the fire and a more than an ample supply of brimstone . I am sure that on his day off he was a nice guy  and even may have laughed once in awhile, (we have no witnesses) but when conducting his priestly duties,he was a force with which to be dealt.

So on report card day,when we had Father Ubowski distributing those progress reports,we were,well, ..petrified. He didn't just put the fear of God in us,he put the fear of getting less than a C+.

Father Ubowski didnt just call your name and give you the card,he would glance at the report and if he saw something he didn't like, and he didn't like much, he wasn't shy about expressing it...sometimes in a voice loud enough to be heard in the classroom next door or the next county .You got your report card with a side order of shout. He was the first priest I ever heard swear.I can still hear it. Whatever he had seen in one of my classmates' card riled him to the point where he declared "It makes me so damned mad!" I think the possibility that Father Ubowski might be delivering the next report card made us determined to do well and thus escape his wrath. 

  I've already run out of time so the life altering incident and the time I remember getting my first laugh must wait for the next installment. And after discussing the priests of my youth, there are teachers to be remembered as well. Stick with me and feel free to add comments of your own .I would enjoy hearing your own "St.William story." 

ST. WILLIAM STORIES SCHOOL DAYS

 My first engagement with St. William was as a first grade student. And while I can't remember the names of all my nuns and lay teachers, it must be true that you never forget your first.  And that was Sister Clarelle. 

 Looking back, I remember her as being young,relatively new to the order and a wonderful starting point.

 In those days we started in what was referred to as "the old school", the one of the two school buildings that had been there quite a long time. The relatively recently built "new school" might as well have been a different country to us. That was where the higher grades,the older kids, learned.They had the newer accomodations with actual coat rooms behind the blackboard. We had a closet with big old wooden doors that swung open all at once and came off the track often making it impossible to close. We got to know the custodians well . 

Such was life in the old building where urinals flushed automatically. Rumor had it that in the new school, the urinals had a lever you could pull to flush those things. Talk about high living. And hand dryers! No rough brown paper towels! I imagined that scholastic wonderland as a place that probably even had that new school smell. In our building the school bell rang so loud it might still be effecting my hearing. In the new school, a chime and muffled bell was much less startling,less like an alarm sending a firefighter to a roaring blaze.

I was a nervous first grader,a condition that has followed me through life. There was no kindergarten at St William so most of us went to nearby Locke School, part of the Chicago public school system. It was there where I became a championship level gagger. I didn't like it there and I "got sick" so often, my kiddie classmates would imitate me by putting their hands over their mouths in mock nauseation.

 On day one of my school days at Locke,already suffering separation anxiety, it was no help when my kindergarten teacher,Mrs Trodol, used this as an opening line as she threw her arms open and proudly announced : "Welcome to your new home!" That is NOT what a child already wanting to go home wants to hear. I freaked out immediately. I hope she changed her opening line for the kids that came after me and may have thought Locke was their new address . St.William today has had kindergarten for decades with outstanding teachers. If only I could've started my learning life there.

But I digress.

  I've come into St.William with those same anxieties ,buffered by the fact that I was closer to home, knew a kid or two in my class,and Sister Clarelle gave no indication we were not going to be able to return home,which was now nearby.

  Whatever nervousness I had was trumped by a new classmate in shorts who asked for permission to use the washroom. He requested that permission a little too late and he was wearing shorts, remember. So let's leave it at that. I still remember this unfortunate first grader's name but I will never divulge it. No St. William tell alls here. My first day of grammar school I witnessed my first "accident".

More on my student experiences next time including a  life changing incident, a couple of interesting priests from those days and my first memory of getting a laugh, which hooked me on trying to get them forever. 

ST. WILLIAM STORIES: Continuing Series

 I've written quite a few things in my day but never an obituary for a building. And while the soon to be shuttered St. William School is more than just a building to me, I have no intention of writing its obit. First because there are people much closer to that institution ,more familiar with the school and better equipped to detail its long,rich history than I.

  In short,I am not the school biographer nor its historian.

What I am is a former graduate as are many dear friends, a former employee and proud to have chaired its major fundraiser on a few occasions.

 I've got stories to tell. Tales that will be souvenirs for me when St.William closes up this June.

I've had the opportunity to meet some exceptional people,life changing people...people who also have St.William as part of their own stories. I don't intend to use any last names in most cases  (as you will note ) nor will I relate anything that will reflect badly on the people I've known or met nor break any confidences in what I will lovingly refer to as "my St.William years ."

These are just true stories with a grain of grammatical flourish  for entertainment sake. 

I saw,I experienced St.William from a number of angles,some of which many people won't even realize I had taken part in  back in the day.

It will serve not just to give light and love to my memories of this special place, but to serve as a record I can keep for the rest of my days.

I hope you'll follow my "St.William Stories". I will be posting either the stories or the link on my  Jeff Steven Kwit Facebook Page and The Harlem Nights Players Group Facebook page .

That link will bring you here to   my blog space with other samples of my writing work. You can get that at

http://www.jeffkwit.blogspot.com

Oh,and I sincerely hope I won't embarrass any of my former english teachers in the process.