Well, I was thinking about this, maybe so people can get to know me a little better I thought I might offer a little insight into my childhood. Being the season it is now made me think about this childhood Christmas story. Let me know what you think.

I have been a Catholic all my life, and when I was in grade school that pretty much meant that I was destined for the life of an Altar boy. Now I know there are a lot of bad stories out there about Altar boys, so I figured it was time a humorous tale can be told. When you are younger the whole meaning of life does not have a lot of thought put into it, this being the case one of my most favorite times as a youngster was to serve the Altar during a funeral. Now hear me out, I understand this might sound demented, but being so young at the time the only thing I really thought about was getting out of school. That was just one of the bonuses, you also had the monetary bonus received at the end of the service, and the luncheon that was ten times better than the tuna bumsteads (wth is that?) that the school cafeteria was offering. I had a younger cousin named Mark, and we would do whatever we could to get on funeral call. Here is one that is quite a treat

A call came over the intercom one day, “Mark A, and Josh Sheedy to the school office please.” Miss Martin calls me to the front of the room and excuses me to the office. On the way down to the office I see my cousin Mark, and we make our way down to the end of the hall. As we approach you can see a towering shadow of a man glaring down at us, it was Father Culliton. The Father, moved here from Ireland thirty years or so earlier, but if you were to hear him talk he sounded as if he was straight off the boat. In all the time I remember serving as an altar boy for him, I can not recall him ever smiling. That might be a false representation of him, but every time I remember being around him he was yelling at me. I am not sure he even realized it, this was just the way he was. So back to the story, after meeting up with Father, the three of us jump into his car and make our way down to St. Pats (I still go there to this day).

We all go into the church and start getting ready for the funeral, I was preparing the holy water, and Mark the incense. As the funeral starts we travel to the rear of the church where the ushers place the casket, and everyone proceeds towards the Altar. Mark has the incense, and I have the crucifix that will get placed to the right of the main Altar, next to a Christmas tree decorated with white lights.The main part of the funeral now begins, and Mark and myself settle our selves in. The whole service was going quite smoothly, Father Culliton directs our every move even though we have both been serving for a few years. Next came the part when Father Culliton would bless the casket with incense. Mark and I lead father to the casket, once there he places more incense over the hot coals. The aroma is very strong, but pleasant. He makes his way around the casket, says another prayer and we make our way back up to the main Altar. We now prepare for communion and take our places to either side of the Altar. I end of on the left side, and Mark ends up on the other side next to the crucifix and Christmas tree. Father Culliton begins his prayer’s as Mark and myself continue to stand. For some reason I look over at Mark, and notice a blank stare on his face. He does not appear to know what is going on, and it is coming to the part we are suppose to kneel. Right about the time we are suppose to kneel there is a large BOOM! Mark falls over, flips over the crucifix as he falls and lands in the Christmas tree. As the crucifix hits the ground the head of Jesus breaks off and shoots done the Altar. Yes, the head of Jesus Christ breaks off, and shoots ten feet to the other side of the Altar. To make matters worse, Mark is still in the Christmas tree passed out. I rush over there to help him out and start to remove the lights and branches off of him. At that same time I hear, “Go unplug the tree you damn fool, he is going to be electrocuted.” Father continues to yell at at me, as I rush to unplug the tree. Alright then, electrocution adverted, and I go back to help Mark out of the tree. He is starting to come around now, and starts to ask what happened. At that time I hear this, “Get him into the back before he does it again.” So we both go to the back, he sits down, and I make my way back onto the Altar . I pick up the head and crucifix and take it to the side room, then go back to finish the funeral. The rest of the service is problem free, and before you know it Mark and I were in the Parish Center eating lunch. With the two of us talking about what happened it was hard not to laugh. Once we were back in school and telling the story few believed us, until that following weekend. There were more then just the two of use that were Altar boys from school, and one of the kids that served the following had stories to tell on Monday. I guess the Church was running a little short on money, so instead of getting a new Crucifix, they just had someone weld the head back on, and clean it up (I know creepy). It was used like that for years to come.

Now I tell this story every so often, and few believe me, but for me and my cousin Mark it will be a life long memory…..

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