Small Steps, First Lessons
Reflections on early childhood
Holy Angels Catholic Church. Sadly, it burned down. The stained glass windows took your breath away.
Every story has its roots, and these three pieces trace mine back to the beginnings, so they can be read together as a kind of memoir package. Each one stands alone, but together they sketch out the humor, missteps, and small revelations that shaped my early path.
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Read “Small Steps, First Lessons“ on Medium
Sacred Secrets:
A nostalgic journey through family, faith, and growing up; the awkward honesty of the first confession. 4-minute read
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned; this is my first confession.”
The words came out in a rush, like I was afraid they’d stick in my throat if I said them too slowly. I was six years old, kneeling in a wooden box smaller than a telephone booth, separated from Father Murphy by a screen that made his face look like a jigsaw puzzle. The confessional smelled like old wood and other people’s guilt.
Rascals and Lion Dreams:
a glimpse of family gatherings and the rituals that bound us. 9-minute read.
“My mother was a Protestant; my dad was Catholic, but we were Catholics. My dad’s family were all Catholic. His mother, Grandma Beck, had six siblings, and they remained very close throughout their lives. It was a big family, roughly sixty people. We had family reunions in the summer and always celebrated Christmas together.”
Fear, Fire, and Latin: A Catholic Kid’s Education.
Lessons in sin, purgatory, and eternal confusion. 8-minute read.
There was no shortage of mystery in a Catholic childhood—just not the kind you wanted. From Latin mutterings none of us understood to the constant threat of eternal damnation for missing Mass or eating meat on Friday, it was a full-time job just trying to stay out of hell. We were too young to grasp theology but old enough to be terrified by it. What follows is a glimpse into my third, fourth, and fifth grade years—an education in fear, fire, and just enough exercise to keep us from nodding off in the pews.
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If you made it this far…
Return Home
If you’ve got twenty minutes, I invite you to read them as a set. Think of it as a magazine article you can finish in one sitting.
These three chapters trace the earliest stretch of my childhood, from ages four to seven. They are small steps, but each carries a first lesson
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