Library of Congress
Catholic school in Vermont during the 1950s.
ORWELL | The Vermont morning chill quickened my pace as I trudged through the pasture, which by crossing rather than using the road shortened the route to the novitiate.
A brother greeted me at the gate and was promptly ushered in to morning devotions. Following prayers, I was introduced to the assembled Bretheren and taken to breakfast. I spent the day with a brother who acted as my guide. He described the daily routine and their various jobs at the novitiate. I did more hiking that day visiting work centers, various barns, fields and other buildings than in my entire career as a Boy Scout.
The six o’clock bell signaled the hour of departure. I said and received farewells and was off for home retracing my steps of the early morning hours. I was nearly clear of the pasture when it occurred to me that I needed a log, as a momento, I presumed, from this visitation. Eyeing the treeline, at the pasture’s edge, I spotted a sapling which appeared to be approximately three inches in diameter (perfect). I would cut my log from this maple, slip it in my bag and finish the long walk home. Mission accomplished. I had completed all the requirements with the exception of the final board of review scheduled for Sunday.
Photo courtesy of the writer
Father Fradet.
Saturday passed uneventfully. Fr. Fradette made contact and arranged to pick me up at my house a 7am on the following day for the trip north to Christ the King Church.
At 7 a.m. sharp, Fr. Fradette eased to the curb giving a short blast on his car horn, the signal that “all systems are go”, My parents saw me off at the door and my mother, always thinking, handed me the paper bag with its precious cargo, proof of my visitation inside. I hustled out of the house, placed the bag on the floor behind the passenger seat, and hopped into the front seat. I hate riding in cars.
The trip to Rutland was a blur to my memory, however I do remember the feeling of great joy as we arrived at our destination and the motion of the car ceased. “Well, here we are Tom. Don’t be nervous...”
“I’m ready father”, I managed to squeak out. Although, in my mind I was beginning to experience serious self-doubts. We got out of the car... recalling the Boy Scout motto ”Be Prepared”, I said, “I forgot something, Father.” And ran back to the car to retrieve a lunch bag. “You didn’t need to bring you lunch, Tom, I am going to treat you afterwards”, Father offered.
“But Father,” I ventured, “this is what I need for the interview.” I reached into the paper bag and withdrew the log. “This is the log that I was supposed to keep while at the novitiate, Father. Remember?” The final requirement of the Ad Altare Dei Award was to go to the novitiate, I reminded him, and keep a log which is to be presented at the final Board of Review.”, I said knowledgeably... Why don’t you sit here, Tom,” he said gently, “I need to speak privately with the Fathers before we go in.”
While sitting on the uncomfortably hard chair in the hall way I started to wish that what I had in the paper bag really was a sandwich. I was starved... A voice seemed to be calling me from some far-off place. “They’re ready for you Tom,” it boomed... “But, Father..”, I started. “I will explain it to you later, Cap (Father’s nickname for me),” he interjected. “No time now.”
Tom Pinsonneault
The writer’s Ad Altare Dei Award and neckerchief slip.
The review board did not last long but it reminded me of something out of the Twilight Zone or one of my nightmares. The conference room was small and dark with three burning tapers affording the only light and three dark shadowy figures facing me from across the table. “Tom”, Father nudged me, “now would be a good time to swallow that gum!” Great! I thought. I must have blown it again, although I wasn’t sure what my first miss-step could have been.
We stopped on the way home for lunch, as Father had promised. “What do you say we top off the day with an ice-cream cone for the rest of the ride home?” Father seemed in a good mood. I chose my favorite chocolate chip ice-cream cone.
...The award ceremony was nice. My parents were especially pleased, especially my mother who had dreams of me joining the priesthood. However, I couldn’t help but think that word of the “Log Episode” leaked-out when I noticed that the medal to be presented was draped over a familiar chunk of wood camouflaged with candles and evergreens. Father has a sense of humor.
