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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Biography / Autobiography
- Published: 05/08/2013
LEGIONS OF DECENCY
Born 1950, M, from Baltimore, Maryland, United StatesLEGIONS OF DECENCY
When we were growing up mom only allowed us to see those few movies
which met the approval of the Legion of Decency
whose ratings were listed in the Catholic review.
There were no MPAA ratings in those days
so mom absolutely relied on the legion's doctrinal stamp
to determine a film's degree of violence and filth.
Unfortunately practically all of Hollywood's mainstream flicks
were either "condemned" (equivalent of today's PG13),
or "objectionable"(about the same as PG),
and an R back then was plain and simple porn.
Thanks to the legion's dictates, I never got to see
such B-movie classics like "The Blob" or "The Thing" or "The Fly"
or "Godzilla" or "Rodan," between you and me
I would've been too scared to watch them anyway.
Still I envied my Protestant friends freedom to watch the cool stuff.
Before marrying, mom converted to Catholicism,
mixed religion marriages were taboo in 1949.
So unlike me who was baptized after birth without my consent,
mom made a conscious choice to come to the infallible pope
with his celibates, Latin, ritual, trappings, and vestments.
My understanding I guess was the encrusted dogma
offered mom a kind of rock of stability, solace, and salve
in the wake of her tough and troubled childhood.
Mom was the one who made sure we never missed mass on Sundays
or any other holy day of obligation. She strictly enforced the pre-communion fasting,
forbidding us to drink anything three hours before receiving the host,
in addition to the tougher rule which required us to eat not a crumb of food
twelve hours prior to swallowing the body of Christ
which we weren't allowed to touch or chew.
Every other Saturday we were herded into penance
for our biweekly confessions of the same old sins.
Since speaking untruths wasn't as shameful as impure thoughts
and consequently didn't demand as many Hail Marys and Our Fathers,
I usually lied to the priest hidden behind the screen
and admitted to a bunch of lies, many of which I never told.
I mean because really you didn't dare enter that cage
just to say how good you'd been.
We absolutely never ate meat on Fridays.
Mom was so vigilant about that stricture
that while watching President Kennedy's Friday inauguration
she became noticeably upset when the TV reporter stated
"The president-elect enjoyed a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs."
After a couple moments of mounting consternation, mom concluded
that Cardinal Cushing must have given him a special dispensation.
On Christmas morning before we finished unwrapping our gifts
and certainly ahead of breakfast, mom ordered us upstairs to
shed our pajamas, don our creased pants and stretch suspenders,
lace up our polished shoes, tuck in our button down shirts,
and snap on our clip bowties and then march in formation
to church early so we could fit the entire family of seven
on one pew where, during the longer than the customary service,
my stomach growled louder than the carols.
by L DOUGLAS ST OURS
April 2010
LEGIONS OF DECENCY(L DOUGLAS ST OURS)
LEGIONS OF DECENCY
When we were growing up mom only allowed us to see those few movies
which met the approval of the Legion of Decency
whose ratings were listed in the Catholic review.
There were no MPAA ratings in those days
so mom absolutely relied on the legion's doctrinal stamp
to determine a film's degree of violence and filth.
Unfortunately practically all of Hollywood's mainstream flicks
were either "condemned" (equivalent of today's PG13),
or "objectionable"(about the same as PG),
and an R back then was plain and simple porn.
Thanks to the legion's dictates, I never got to see
such B-movie classics like "The Blob" or "The Thing" or "The Fly"
or "Godzilla" or "Rodan," between you and me
I would've been too scared to watch them anyway.
Still I envied my Protestant friends freedom to watch the cool stuff.
Before marrying, mom converted to Catholicism,
mixed religion marriages were taboo in 1949.
So unlike me who was baptized after birth without my consent,
mom made a conscious choice to come to the infallible pope
with his celibates, Latin, ritual, trappings, and vestments.
My understanding I guess was the encrusted dogma
offered mom a kind of rock of stability, solace, and salve
in the wake of her tough and troubled childhood.
Mom was the one who made sure we never missed mass on Sundays
or any other holy day of obligation. She strictly enforced the pre-communion fasting,
forbidding us to drink anything three hours before receiving the host,
in addition to the tougher rule which required us to eat not a crumb of food
twelve hours prior to swallowing the body of Christ
which we weren't allowed to touch or chew.
Every other Saturday we were herded into penance
for our biweekly confessions of the same old sins.
Since speaking untruths wasn't as shameful as impure thoughts
and consequently didn't demand as many Hail Marys and Our Fathers,
I usually lied to the priest hidden behind the screen
and admitted to a bunch of lies, many of which I never told.
I mean because really you didn't dare enter that cage
just to say how good you'd been.
We absolutely never ate meat on Fridays.
Mom was so vigilant about that stricture
that while watching President Kennedy's Friday inauguration
she became noticeably upset when the TV reporter stated
"The president-elect enjoyed a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs."
After a couple moments of mounting consternation, mom concluded
that Cardinal Cushing must have given him a special dispensation.
On Christmas morning before we finished unwrapping our gifts
and certainly ahead of breakfast, mom ordered us upstairs to
shed our pajamas, don our creased pants and stretch suspenders,
lace up our polished shoes, tuck in our button down shirts,
and snap on our clip bowties and then march in formation
to church early so we could fit the entire family of seven
on one pew where, during the longer than the customary service,
my stomach growled louder than the carols.
by L DOUGLAS ST OURS
April 2010
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