The Confessions of Catherine X

Book One

There is an alleyway that connects my house to my grandmother’s house. My grandmother’s house is large. I like to go there. One day, after my mother screamed at me, I went across the alley and hid behind the chair at my grandmother’s house. I was naked. There wasn’t much time and I had to get away from my mother. I was shivering but I got there in time. I hid and no one could find me. My Aunt Loretta found me and I forget what happened. My mother helped me with my school project. I wrote a book report. The book report was on Walter Reed who found the cure for malaria. My mother helped me so much. She read the important parts and I copied them. I had already done the drawings of Walter Reed that I copied from the book. My drawings were good but I did not like to read. So my mother helped me. So you can see that she did not always scream and make me go to my grandmother’s house. She was also beautiful. I love her. And she made sure that we finished writing the report before The Wizard of Oz came on the television.My sister and I watched The Wizard of Oz. I was frightened so much by this movie. The music was very sad especially the song that Dorothy sang. I liked the Scarecrow and hoped that I could have a friend like that. But Dorothy had to leave him at the end. Why? And it kept on being sad. Dorothy goes back home in the end. Going home is what she always wanted. She says at the end, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.” But then the sad music comes again and it doesn’t seem like she is happy to be home at all. I forgot to mention the crystal ball that the witch has. Auntie Em appears inside the crystal ball and calls to Dorothy. Dorothy can see her, but Auntie Em cannot. I was always afraid of this happening to me. That one day I would call out to my mother to save me and she would not hear me. I would be completely alone. And then another frightening thing happens. Auntie Em turns into the witch. The witch sees Dorothy and laughs and makes fun of her. This is the worst thing I ever saw on TV. My mother and the witch were the same person. Peter Pan was another movie I had to watch. Peter Pan was a boy. But I was able to see that Peter was a woman. I didn’t understand this at first. Then I understood. Boys grew up to be women if they were good. But if they were not good they grew up to be silly and weak like Captain Hook. I could also learn to fly when I grew up. Television taught me many things like this although I preferred looking out of the window at night. My father was very quiet and made things in the basement with his wood shop. He showed me how. We made a bird house and put it in the back yard. I saw a bird once. We also made a boat. When summer came we put a pool in the yard and I took the wooden boat along with me. I played stick ball in the Stephen Girard school yard. You cut the ball in half and hit it. I loved playing stick ball there. It was fun because we would argue most of the time about who was safe on first base and there was more arguing than playing. But I loved doing all of it. And over toward 19th street the school yard tilted down so it was a perfect place to go down with roller skates. My cousin Donna used to be there. She was born just a few days before I was. We saw Cleopatra with my mother and after that we went home. I had a plastic gladiator sword and breast plate that my dad bought at Snyder Avenue so I put that on and so Donna and I pretended to be Cleopatra and Marc Antony and she had the snake and killed herself. This was very early on. Donna was my cousin but treated me like her younger brother. She always knew more than I did and liked me a lot. Now in third grade I saw a cartoon at night. It was Top Cat. I loved Cartoons but I never saw one set in a city. But Top Cat was in a city and he lived in trash can. I would go outside and go into the trash can and be Top Cat. I made a purple vest out of paper and a straw hat. My father helped me. I only knew the right colors from the Top Cat comic book because our television was black and white. So on Sunday night, Tinker Bell would begin the Wonderful World of Color and sprinkle the colors which I didn’t see. I trusted that they were there.

My best friend, Anthony, lived down the street. I had difficulty singing the Top Cat theme song and Anthony helped me out. The first time I bought a birthday gift was for Anthony. My parents wrapped it up and took me to Anthony’s. I forget what it was. Then we would go into the basement and play. Anthony also had a train set.

I was getting better at stick ball. I felt shy about winning and looked down after I ran to the home base. And during the same summer my mother read “The Wizard of Oz” on the sofa for me. I remember this so well and as she read to me, other children in the street slowly came in and listened to her. I was so happy when I saw them come in because she was my mother and I felt proud.

Now it is August and in a month I begin 4th grade. So I am playing stick ball in the school yard and my team is winning because of me, but I want to watch the Lucy Desi Comedy Hour on TV which only comes on in the summer and Robert on the other team calls me a name which I don’t understand.

Now I must tell you that I was always careful at this time. My parents did not own a stereo player so I would take my Disney records across the alley to my grandmother’s house where I would play them on my Aunt Nancy’s big stereo consul. She had records on top. The soundtrack to Can-Can and records by Frank Sinatra. I played my Walt Disney recording of “Babes in Toyland” and knew right way that Barnaby was not being sung by Ray Bolger who I loved as the Scarecrow in “The Wizard of Oz.” So I discovered another record that had Ray Bolger that was called the original soundtrack. My father got that one but my grandmother’s stereo was being repaired so I just looked at the grooves and imagined hearing Ray Bolger sing “We Won’t be Happy Until We Get It.” The next year I got a stereo for Christmas, so I didn’t have to go across the alley to play records. My parents gave me three records, “The Wonderful World of The Brothers Grimm,” “The Music Man,” and “West Side Story.” I liked “West Side Story.” I didn’t need a costume to sing the songs. I had a jacket just like Riff on the back cover, so I could sing “When You’re a Jet,” and look just like Riff. And I memorized all the words of “Trouble” from the Music Man. My Uncle Dino who knew about pool was amazed and explained what a three-rail billiard shot was. Uncle Dino was Donna’s father.

After Kennedy was killed, I went to Anthony’s house and saw him painting a plastic model of Frankenstein. I had no idea what this was and soon found out. My new best friend Bill and I began to collect “Famous Monsters of Filmland.” The early issues had funny captions. Then the articles became serious and I learned quite a bit about these movies. I looked at the Dracula articles and wanted to see the film. One Sunday, I saw the TV listings for the week and it listed “Dracula,” for Saturday night. I was suspicious at first because I had seen so many bad monster films on “Double Chiller Theatre.” Then I read the date, “1931,” and knew that this was it. I called Bill right way and told him. Saturday came and I had my tape recorder out. I had never seen a film this old.

I must mention my Godfather, Leo. He was my father’s best friend. He wasn’t married and always came over on Saturday night with a cake and would talk about things. Whenever he was in our house, he brought happiness. He went to New York a lot and loved the Theatre and Movies. So we would discuss these things and more. He also read reviews in The New York Times. I saw “Bye Bye Birdie” at the Broadway Theater. Leo was upset that Maureen Stapleton played a silly character in that movie. He said she was a great actress and saw her in “The Rose Tattoo” in New York. I was curious about this. Once I said that Shaw was an British writer and he told me that Shaw was Irish. But he was always gentle and we would laugh. Even my mother and father seemed like better people when he was near. He had a great laugh too. Once he asked my father and me to go to a movie theater in Center City. It was a small movie theater and showed two movies in Italian, “Variety Lights,” and “Open City.” I liked “Variety Lights” a lot because it was funny. But I did not understand Italian. But I knew that these movies were great because Leo wanted to see them.…………………………………………………………………………………….

In 7th grade I had to change to a Catholic School. This wasn’t easy. I learned that something was happening that had to be stopped. The boys sat in the first five rows. That was where the evil was and where the nuns could the more easily strike out and hit the boys. Other things were happening too and I wet the bed at night. My mother sent me to a clinic at City Line. I had to take two buses to get there. The nuns did not like that I was seeing a psychiatrist since they were Jewish and only God should help. The Jewish boys I met in group therapy knew a lot about God, so the nuns were wrong. Once on the bus back to Philadelphia, I mentioned the Bible to my friend, Saul. I mispronounced Leviticus as LeviTeekus, and Saul corrected me. He studied Talmud and I had no idea what that was, but he explained it before I got off at Spruce Street. Another boy in group therapy, Paul, was not religious but very interesting. Sometimes I’d wait for the bus with him. One time, he said, “Have you heard the new Beatles’ song, “Strawberry Fields Forever?” “No, I haven’t.” “It’s about LSD.” “What’s LSD?”

I also had an hour every week with the psychiatrist. One day he gave me a book and asked me to read it. The next week he showed me how people had sex. This surprised me because it seemed so stupid. Every year they take away the magic. Every year, more and more of the magic disappears so that you wonder why they pretended that there was magic in the first place. First, there’s no Santa Claus. Then they give you this. That is the message. No one will climb down the chimney on a cold winter night and bring gifts. No. Instead the real mystery, the sacred thing that they keep from you all those years is something that goes on in front of your asshole. And that is where love is. Maybe the nuns are right. Get rid of it. Just forget about it and pray to another Santa Claus that there is something better than this.

Soon I discovered that I was wrong. The feeling was fun and I decided to go with it. But there was something important that I had to fix.

So I took the Life Magazine with Barbarella on the cover to the Jersey Shore. My parents gave me a room to myself. Above was a television which was difficult to get to, but I managed to turn it on and switch the channels. My father was depressed and I saw him by accident the following morning. There was a pile of sand and I walked outside. That’s when I saw him there sitting. I walked by the ocean and imagined that I was James Bond. I would swim a little too. Back in the room I looked at Jane Fonda for a few moments. It was still 1968. At night I turned on the TV and watched some of Merv Griffin. I changed the channel and saw Jean Seberg in Joan of Arc. I forgot about Jane for a while. I was writing too. After a few days we left.

This was my first year of High School. I read a lot this summer. I bought all 3 volumes of The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. It was August 1968 and I watched riots in Chicago on television. My TV was still in black and white. The colors were inside of me now. I decided that it could very well occur that I’d suddenly turn into a woman at any minute. You never know. I expected it for the following summer, but people landed on the moon instead. I would have to be patient.

It happened the following November 1969, while listening to “Hey Frederick,” from the new Jefferson Airplane album that I became a woman. I’m almost certain it was then although there may be other possibilities. I couldn’t wait forever and this time was as good as any. It seemed strange at first that no one else noticed. I was in the debating league and liked to hang out in the club room. They had WMMR playing all day while we all prepared for our debates and practiced speeches for original oratory. Joe Mallace was going to get a coke. I wanted one too and got up. Joe said, “That’s OK, I’ll get one for you too.” That seemed unusual but maybe they could tell. At times, I wasn’t sure myself. My mother knew and told my father while he was working in the basement. She told me that dad was a bit upset, but not really all that concerned. Dr. Bender also seemed to just let it go. He had been my doctor since childhood. He always made house calls and was a saint. His office desk was piled up with letters and samples that he never cleared. Well, my mother and I scheduled a checkup, and we could hardly see him because of all the mail on his desk. But he came over and took a look. After the examination, he told my mother that it had probably been there all along and not to worry.

I was at a Catholic Boys school, so I just blended in. We used to joke about Father Geegan in History Class. He would call up a student to sit on his lap once a week. He taught European History. He only chose the boys and ignored me, so I felt somewhat assured that this thing had really occurred. Life is strange in so many little ways. I had wanted this so very badly, but when it finally came, it was just another event. Like brushing your teeth. I didn’t even want to wear a skirt. My legs got cold and it just wasn’t worth it. So you can see how convenient it was to be enrolled in an all-boys High School since no one really pressured me as how to dress. Don’t get me wrong. There was still a strict dress code. But when the priests saw that I wasn’t wearing a tie they just let it go. They were busy.

And here’s the thing. People all have their reasons. There’s only so much that they can absorb. This is why you should never hold a grudge. For while you’re brooding over a past hurt, the object of your anger has moved on. They’ve forgotten all about it. Really. And the same goes for being a girl. Just give it a few days, and they just take it for granted. They have their own problems and concerns after all.

So I could do what I wanted. And when Father Bozelli called on me in Algebra Class, and said,

“Catherine?”

I’d answer, “The Associative Property.” And he would say,

“Correct.”

So it went on from there. The Merv Griffin show now seemed very dull indeed. I would walk my 8 blocks from Bishop Neuman HS at 26th and Moore St to 18th and McKeen and turn into Bouvier Street where my home was located. Sometimes I’d go to my grandmother’s who lived on 18th Street between McKeen and Snyder Avenue. (See. The alleyway connecting the two homes. That was so nice when I was a child when I wanted to escape and even now I would go to my Grandmother’s and read The Masks of God by Joseph Campbell at the little night table that faced 18th Street.) Now I would turn the key into the door, put on the TV and sit on the sofa, But if Jane Fonda was a guest there was now nothing to do, nothing to think about, nothing to wish for. Because I already looked like her. Not that pretty, of course, but if you had taken off her clothes you would have found the same things that I had. I am not suggesting that I would have taken off Jane’s clothes. I am a decent person and respect her privacy. I am assuming it only. There was nothing to do except homework.

But I had lived my life hoping for the impossible. Now when the impossible comes, what is left? Doing possible things then seems strictly routine. The only thing to do was to reach out for more impossible things. Strangely enough, I was able to keep it going. Don’t ask me how. I am as confused as your are. So I came up with new ideas. Lots of them.

I read a heck of a lot of books on my own. Books that were not assigned for school. I generally disliked the books that were assigned for school, like “Catcher in the Rye.” In my Junior Year at Bishop Neumann, they offered a Psychology Class. It was taught by Mr. Di Marco. I didn’t take it. Why should I take the class when I had already read Freud and Jung two years before? In English class we were reading a short story and the term “dementia praecox” appeared. Mr Burns turned to a student who was taking the Psychology class and said, “Ask Mr. Di Marco what ‘dementia praecox’ is.” I then raised my hand and said, “It’s schizophrenia.” Two days later Mr. Burns turned to me in class and said, “Catherine, you were right.” The other students didn’t say anything. They took it for granted that I generally knew things like this.

One day Joe Mallace asked me to the Senior Prom. I said OK, but had no idea what to wear. Ever since the change, I had not bothered to buy women’s clothes. My mother had offered to purchase some things but I dislike wearing skirts and dresses were out of the question. I didn’t want to disappoint Joe though. He was an all A student and had been accepted to the University of Pennsylvania. He wanted to study Archaeology. And I think he was the first to notice that I was a girl. So I gave in and bought something at Wanamaker’s on Chestnut Street. On the night of the Senior Prom, my mother said, “Have a good time.” The Prom was in the Neumann Gym and there was a Group playing things like “Down by the River,” by Neil Young. I had actually seen the real Neil Young at the Spectrum the summer before and was right in front of his amp while he and the Crosby Stills Nash people played Southern Man. I wanted to sleep with Neil very badly, my first crush, but that was impossible so anyway the group at the Prom was playing and people complimented me on how I looked and, as I later discovered, the girls from St Maria Goretti were jealous of me because I was the only girl at Bishop Neumann which was a far superior school to Goretti and had a great debating team of which I was a member. Joseph Mellace took me to a nice place after the prom and said he liked me. He was shy and I knew that he meant more than “like” but I was rather nervous the whole time. I wasn’t really sure I would be able to have babies and maybe he wouldn’t really mind. So I called my mom to say I wouldn’t be home that night. She didn’t care and wished me luck. So Joseph Mellace and I went to the Grover Corners Hotel in Bala Cynwyd and spent the night.

They had a mini bar.

It was good I suppose. Joseph was completely at home with the Main Line people. South Philadelphia is a universe away but Joe had made connections through the Bishop Newmann Debating Club. He knew Barbara Scott from Kennett Square. Barb Scott was good friends with the Delitt Twins, for example. Sue and Michelle Delitt were angelic and I must admit, I envied them a bit. Joe and I met them at Barb’s the following weekend and I just stared at them. In the classy basement of Kennett Square, while Joe was playing ping pong with Barbara Scott, I could only gaze at Sue and Michelle Delitt and think, “How does anyone become this beautiful?” We were all watching the rerun of “Death of a Salesman” on a tiny television and Joseph called to me, “Hey Catherine! Help me out here, Barb is killing me!” I smiled the regulation smile and continued my chat with the Delitt twins.

“It’s so nice to meet you all.”

“How long have you known Joseph?”

“A few years. We’ve been dating since the Senior Prom last week.”

“How is he?” responded Sue.

“Nice,” I said.

“Cobb is great as Willie Lomann. Don’t you think?”

“Oh yeah,” said Mary Delitt. “Arthur Miller himself said that the only time he heard grown men weep in the Theatre was during performances of ‘Death of a Salesman.”

“There must have been salesmen in the audience,” I ventured.

“Well, I think the play speaks to everyone whose dreams have not been fulfilled and see themselves as failures.”

“That makes sense,” I concluded. And I tried to look wistful.

I must say that this was, far and away, the blondest day I had ever spent in my life. I vowed to myself never to forget it.

When I returned home I continued with “The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.” I had reached Chapter 30 in the second volume. The crossing of the Rhine on Dec 31st 406 by the Suevi, Alamanni, Vandals, Alani and Burgundians was depressing. And it would get worse. It was right there in the title.

My boyfriend, Joseph Mallace had graduated and began his first year at Penn. But I had still Senior year at Bishop Neumann to finish. Much would happen. I wish it hadn’t. I did particularly well in Religion class which was the last class of the day. The priest knew that I was very familiar with the Bible. One day he said to the class, “I will let you all out early if Catherine can answer the following question.” He then asked me, “Which king of Israel followed Ahaz?” and I correctly answered, “Hezekiah.” So the guys yelled with delight and ran out. This led Father Flynn to let me skip the class. But once a week I would meet him privately and discuss a book on the New Testament which he would assign. He was convinced that I had a vocation to the priesthood. I told him that I was a girl and it would probably not work out. But he assured me that the Magisterium in Rome was always making exceptions. If you had the grace, he said, God would take care of the rest. In Spring 1971 he had me doing the “Summa Theologiae” and Augustine’s” De Civitate Dei.” I did as he suggested but missed Gibbon’s “Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire” a whole lot. I mean, I knew in advance that the Empire would fall, but I wanted to know the particulars. Don’t get me wrong. Saint Augustine lived during the sack of Rome by Alaric in 410 and wrote “De Civitate Dei” in response to the event. But I felt that St Augustine was biased. I expressed these misgivings to Father Flynn which made him all the more excited about my sense of inquiry regarding theological matters. I was hoping that I too could join Joe at U of P. But events took over and I entered the seminary in Fall, 1971. I was the only girl in the first year of the Novitiate at The Blessed Sacrament Seminary located in Gettysburg, PA, but, as usual, no one noticed. By this time, it was getting on my nerves.

October came and I met a nice guy in the Refectory. His name was Anthony. He asked me to call him “Tony.” I explained my difficulties in grasping the concept of Transubstantiation. After a few minutes I got the basic concept. I thought back to my determination to acquire the authentic soundtrack recording of “Babes in Toyland.” I put it this way: The accidens of the vinyl, through the agency of the stylus needle made present the substantia of Ray Bolger. That is to say, there were not two things present, per exemplum, The vinyl and Ray Bolger. Not at all. Rather, the entire substance of the vinyl became Ray Bolger. Then it occurred to me. I myself had made use of this miraculous procedure in order to realize “Catherine.” And I did it. A miracle had taken place in my own life. So what did I have to learn at this stupid Seminary?

Tony was very cute, by the way. But we were all dedicated to celibacy. That was OK since I never felt particularly tempted. I was too nervous to feel that and missed my first boyfriend, Joseph Mallace, who was studying at Penn. I had to find a way to get out. On the whole, I felt like Joan of Arc when she was the prisoner of the Burgundians, preparing very soon to be handed over to the English. In my own room while reading the hours in my Latin Breviary (Vespers), I recalled that summer at Wildwood when I had breathlessly watched Jean Seburg rally the troops in preparation for the Siege of Orleans. Consequently, I decided to call Father Flynn in Philadelphia. I was wearing my bathrobe.

“Catherine! How are things going there?”

“Not too good, Father.”

“What’s the matter? Is the brisket of beef overdone?”

“No. The food is great here. Very nourishing. It’s something else.”

“Spill it out, girl!”

I felt good that he recalled that I was a girl. So I answered.

“I’m a semi Arian.”

“What?”

“I’m so sorry about this, Father, but, after tons of study, I just can’t get my brain around the eternal generation of the Son.”

“That’s bad. Have you boned up on your Athanasius?”

“You bet, in Greek too. They have the the complete Migne here in the library. I went through as much as I could during the free hour before dinner. But…”

“Please, listen. This is just an effeminate phase you’re going through. And trust me, Catherine, it will pass.”

I became stronger and more resolved as I spoke. Like Joan facing the flames that would soon consume her.

“I’m a Buddhist.”

That had him for sure. There was nothing to be done.

Joseph Mallace knew about it too. He had sent me a long letter and told me about Professor James Thurberg who was teaching Asian Religions at Penn State. Joe, who had gotten further and further into Main Line Society, had made the acquaintance of one Tracy Melford, a socialite who collected Tibetan Art. Her husband, Grant Melford, was a major contributor to The Met’s Chinese Collection (it’s past the Assyrian Friezes on the Second Floor, Right Wing) and a good friend of Professor Thurberg. So I gave Joe the go-ahead and I was soon on the phone with Penn State Admissions.

I had to take this all in. And I did,

Causality is vast and unapproachable to our frail human intellect. But I had to wonder what course my life would have taken without the Bala Cynwyd mini bar.

Father Flynn gave me his blessing and added that I would now have to work for a living.

Once again I was put in a male dorm, Holmes Hall. I called Lucy Adams at Admissions.

“There’s nothing I can do right now, Catherine. You’re on the waiting list.”

“But there’s no women’s bathroom.”

“Don’t worry. The guys will treat you great. Like their little sister!”

“You don’t understand, Lucy,” I was getting upset. “There’s a girl’s dorm right next to Holmes and another co-ed dorm across the Quad!”

“Catherine, I’m busy. So, please, I have to make this short. Runkle is filled and the co-ed dorm is out of the question.”

“Leete? But a co-ed dorm is perfect for me.”

“We want to protect you. We’re having problems with Leete Hall. Parents are complaining.”

“So I am more protected in a male dorm?”

“Of course, baby! They’re all jocks at Holmes. They just wanna work out and compete. Whereas Leete Hall is filled with hippie degenerates. You won’t be able to study at Leete what with “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” waking you up at all hours of the night. It’s a zoo, a complete zoo. The administration wants to shut it before a herpes epidemic engulfs all of Center County. Then we’ll be in a real jam, let me tell you!”

The bit about study convinced me. I had a lot of catching up to do with Buddhists texts, learning Sanscrit, and also finishing Gibbon on the side.

“So the guys are nice?”

“Trust me. They take more cold showers than penguins.”

“Well….”

“And you’re in luck! Grant Melford is quite a connection you got there, girl!”

“Please call me ‘Catherine.’ ”

“Grant Melford made a call to Prof. Thurberg and you can stay with his family until the dorm opens. Have to go now. Look over the campus. It’s a beaut!” So before you could say “tat twam asi” I was on my way to the Thurberg residence.

James Thurberg was a fascinating man. He had been a Buddhist monk for two years, but got bored. So he returned to Cambridge, Mass and married a Brazilian model by the name of Livia Montez. He taught at Harvard for three years, and was now at PSU in order to oversee his publishing ventures. They had two daughters, Zuma and Stickley. I was really really nervous.

The first day I met Livia Montez. She was chopping string beans at their commune near Bald Eagle State Forest and I was helping her. It was the perfect way to bond.

“So why did they assign you to a male dorm?”

“I have no idea.”

“Hand me that knife, Catherine.”

It seemed that I had spent hours cutting these green beans. I had just met her but I confess I was tempted to ask if there were any other members of the legume family that she liked.

“Well, you came at the right time, Kate!”

“Please call me “Catherine.”

“We are at the crossroads. A great change is about to come. And we are at the center of it! Doesn’t that excite you?! And you’re young. Look how young you are. Here..wait.”

She left the beans and led me to a full length mirror in the hallway. She placed me in front of it and looked from behind.

“Who do you see?”

I didn’t know what to answer.

“It’s you! You are change! The Crown of Creation. I may not live to see it. But you will experience it to the fullest.”

We got back to the beans. It was taking forever. I saw someone approaching from the garden. It was Zuma and she was beautiful. She came in and said hello. It was uncanny. She had her father’s eyes which seemed spaced apart, as if she could see more than ordinary mortals. From the first moment, I was in awe. She looked sullen.

“No vegetables anywhere. Just donuts. Everywhere.”

“You’ll adjust, Zuma. We’ll be back soon.”

“I miss Grendel’s. I just can’t eat here.”

I could tell that Zuma missed Harvard a lot. I would have missed it too. I mean, just to get into Harvard, I’d eat anywhere. Joseph Mellace was accepted into Harvard but chose Penn instead. He knew what he wanted. I miss Joseph so much. Who can I turn to when nobody needs me?

Zuma looked at me.

“Daddy likes you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You were in the Seminary in, where…..?”

“Gettysburg.”

“And you were subjected to the rigor of a religious praxis that molds and forms an enlightened person……like dad.”

“I wasn’t there long.”

“Even still. It was a discipline. I admire you.”

Zuma began helping with the beans.

“Why did you leave the seminary?” Zuma asked.

“I realized that I didn’t have a vocation to the priesthood.”

“Well. Of course. They don’t accept women. The pricks.”

Zuma’s eyes zeroed in on me. But was she looking at me? Her eyes focused slightly apart. These were eyes that looked right through you, way into you, and into the universe.

I was panicking and asked, “So Grendel’s is a good place.”

“They just opened. You’ll have to come. Come to Cambridge, I mean. OK. Let’s go to my bedroom.

Zuma called to her mom.

“Livia, I’m going upstairs.”

“What about these string beans???”

“My God. I think we chopped enough for today. God.” Zuma knew what she was doing, I guess. “We’re just going to talk, I need to talk with Catherine. Ok? My God.”

“Alright, but please, Zuma. For just this once, don’t tell your friend to take off her clothes like you always do. She’s a guest. Ok? Just this once. Please.”

“Sure thing, Mom.”

We went upstairs. Zuma led me into her bedroom and said,

“Catherine. Take off your clothes.”

I did what she said.

“That’s strange.”

“What’s strange?”

“Someone said you were really a guy. But you’re all woman.”

“Thank you. Uh, where did you hear that?”

“Things get around. They were completely wrong. Idiots.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you cleared that up for yourself.”

“Listen, Catherine. May I call you “Catherine’?”

“It’s my name.”

“Just wanted to make sure. Everyone I know is giving themselves these phony Tibetan names. Dad’s grad assistant is going by ‘Bo Peep,’ and has no clue it’s the name of a nursery rhyme character. Crazy, isn’t it? Imagine growing up without Mother Goose. It’s sick. So listen, Catherine, you have a nemesis.”

“Nemesis?”

“Someone, maybe more, let’s say people or a bunch spreading rumors about you.”

Zuma was making me nervous. I asked if I could put my clothes back on. She wasn’t listening.

“And here’s the thing, the vital essence, so to speak. For the rest of your life, you will have to live with deceit; people spreading lies about you, people wanting to bring you down. And, believe me, I know what this is about. Look at my feet.”

I looked at her feet.

“They’re huge. Anyway, the more unique you are the more they will resent it. The more they will hate you and try to destroy you. Trust me, girl, they will smell it, like bloodhounds. And they’re out for you already. The moment you express yourself they will sense something superior to themselves, something high. And will they thank you for it? Will they be impressed and want to be your friend??? No Fucking Way!!! They will attack and not be satisfied until your raw entrails are hanging upon their jagged rotten wolf teeth. Get it? So to hell with this place. No more America. No more fake Buddhists. No more……..donuts! Ok? You can put your clothes back on, honey.”

I got dressed.

“Let’s go to Greece. I have a place in Athens. We’ll have fun!”

She had me convinced. I wasn’t looking forward to living in a men’s dorm. I was concerned about my religious studies, though.

“Why don’t we go to a Buddhist country? Like Tibet.”

“It’s Baptist.”

“Ceylon?”

“Baptist.”

“Nepal?”

“All Baptist. Listen, Catherine, the Missionaries have cleaned up everywhere. There are a few Buddhists left in Altoona, parts of Ohio and maybe Malibu. Malibu is getting so trendy though it makes me want to vomit. Yeah, Malibu is out. So Forget Buddhism. Hinduism too. So! Whadya say?”

“Sounds cool.”

On the road, I learned more about Zuma.

“Yes, I got my trust fund last month on my birthday. God, how I waited. Ugh, I hate this Turnpike, so ugly.”

“Do you want to take a break?”

“Hell, no way. If we get off, we’ll see donuts. Nothing but donuts. Unless you have to pee?”

“Oh no. So. Happy belated birthday.”

“That’s sweet! Thank you. What friends we’re gonna be! Hey? It’s kismet. Did you know I’m the Flüberstecken heiress? I’ve got a bundle, a tidy sum indeed.”

“What’s Flüberstecken?”

“It’s a rubber synthesis that was responsible for rebuilding Germany after the war. My grandfather invented it. Even with the Marshall Plan, German would still be in ruins without Flüberstecken.”

“Wow.”

“Wow, indeed. And not many people know about it.”

We got to the airport and there was trouble. Zuma couldn’t draw on her account for the travelers checks. She called home and sure enough, her father put a hold on the money. Luckily we had enough to get back to the Bald Eagle Thurberg Reserve. All in all, I considered it for the best. As Father Flynn had insisted, I would have to work for a living and needed academic credentials, even if it meant living in an all male dorm with the hope of switching to Leete Hall once I had gotten a handle on Ancient Indo-European Syntax so as to read the Vedas and Upanishads with a dictionary. Lucy, the Admissions Head, was on my side and wouldn’t let me down. Plus, I had Zuma as a friend.

Her mother was really pissed when we got back.

Even still, I was all set to major in Asian Religions at Penn State. Everything seemed in place and I was all set to go. And there was more good news: Robert Thurberg told me that I would not live in the male dorm. They had arranged with the Melfords to give me a stipend so that I could stay at Bear Eagle Preserve. Zuma said that she would drive me to class. I was very excited.

Everything changed after I met Stickley. Stickley is Zuma’s sister. She invited me to a party held in a cabin somewhere near the Thurberg Compound in Deer Park, PA. I hesitated at first. I was enjoying my Buddhist studies and did not want to be distracted. And I certainly didn’t want to drink alcohol. Well, I went against my better instincts and went to the party. The cabin was chaotic and I knew it would be a crazy weekend. Jeffrey Collins owned the cabin and wanted to do sexual things in groups. I won’t describe his ideas. You see, I believe that sexual polarities in Tantra serve to provide an image of the self. But Jeffrey and people like him abuse these teachings and just want to have fun. This fun however always comes with a price and that price is illusion.

I had too many beers. Then Stickley persuaded me to smoke marijuana. Sean Terry, Jeff’s girlfriend, liked me. She wanted to talk about Krishna because she knew I was an authority. How did she know that I was an authority? Well, Stickley kept shouting to everyone at the party, “Catherine is a genius! Catherine is my father’s protegee!” So of course the people at the party did what human beings always like to do: prove that I am actually stupid and don’t know anything. They do this out of envy, of course, but it becomes tiring over the course of time. Now I ask you again, why do people do this? I feel so embarrassed for them. Subtlety I might respect. But people are so transparent when they show their envy. And they did this in the cabin. I saw people having sex in the open; on the grass outside, in the kitchen and in the bedroom. There were pots and pots of speghetti. People ate the speghetti, went outside, had sex and got sick. I didn’t like this at all. At 2AM I heard Stickly screaming. I was worried, but it was just Stickley having sex on the kitchen floor with David Snizek . I went into the kitchen and saw a pile of vomit and two people in love. I expressed my concern about the screams that I had heard. David and Stickley were both touched about my concern for them. That made me feel good. But David reassured me that it was all OK. Stickley went to take a shower and I was then alone with David Snizek. We went to the sofa and David began to counsel me about my life. Men, in general, like to do this.

“Catherine, I see you always alone. You have no one. Why? You are a good looking girl. You’re beautiful! You don’t believe me. I see it in your eyes that you don’t believe me, but I’m telling you the truth. But there’s a wall around you. The guys here want you but are frightened of you. Even terrified. So they stay away and leave you alone. You don’t want to be alone. No one wants to be alone. So get rid of that wall. Go out and live! You are beautiful. Your soul shines like a million diamonds in the Buddha lotus realm. I mean it. You need happiness. You deserve to be happy!”

He then excused himself and went outside to throw up.

I think it was then that I decided to return to the Blessed Sacrament Seminary and become a priest. Penn State was just a trashy party school. I’d never grow here. The students were degenerates. And they smelled too. Even the presence of Professor Thurberg didn’t help. He was at Penn State for reasons of ego. And his Buddhism was just an excuse to meet Brazilian models. So I called Father Flynn in Philadelphia the next day and told him that I had reconsidered. I wanted to take Holy Orders. And to myself I thought, “I am determined. The strength of my will is overpowering. I am invincible! And I won’t stop until I become the First Woman Pope.”

Father Flynn was thrilled. “Catherine! I’m so happy for you. You can’t escape the call of The Divine. God wants you. There is no escape, none whatsoever. Remember Jonah!”

The Jesuit Superior at Blessed Sacrament, Father Bonzelli S.J. was also happy.

“Welcome, Catherine! And never forget that you have a place here. And I’ll let you in on a little secret. In the Confessional, I never heard you whine about Nocturnal Emissions. Not once. And it’s so refreshing! The guys here never stop with it. It weighs upon them. But, as you well know, Nocturnal Emissions are involuntary and consequently not sinful. It’s like sneezing. There is a pleasure that comes from sneezing; that delicious feeling of release as that unbearable tickling dissolves into a final climactic Aatchoo. But is it sinful? No way. Why? because it is involuntary. It constitutes pleasure that we can’t avoid. But my dearest Catherine, during the many hours we spent in the confessional and elsewhere the issue of Nocturnal Emission never arose with you.”

I thanked him.

“Have you considered your Dissertation Topic?”

“Not yet. I hope to take Holy Orders before the PhD.”

“Surely you have thought of a topic.”

“Yes, Father, I have.”

“What is it?’

“‘Perspectives in Semi Arianism and Athanasian Polemic.”’ Then I want to be Pope. The first woman Pope!”

“Sounds good!”

“I’m quite serious Father. I intend to become Pope Catharine the First.

“Go girl! Ok now, get to the Refectory. Today’s brisket of beef.”

So let it be written! So let it be done!

Book Two

Soon enought. I was back at Penn State. Professor Robert Thruberg, interpreter for the Delai Lama and New Age Celebrity of the Stars with both Bodhisattva and Sweedish model credentials, got me a full scholarship and persuaded Old Main to let me reside in the dormatory where I belong….