Page 171 - What They Did to the Kid

What They Did to the Kid 159

6

Winter 1961

The pages ripped off the calendar like months passing in an old
gangster movie. In February, to cele brate Saint Valentine’s Day, we
watched Glenn Ford in Torpedo Run. In March, the movie for Saint
Patrick’s Day was canceled because of Ash Wednesday.
“We have to keep it bent for Lent,” Mike said.
He was no closer to his vocation, but I was. Mike’s question-
ing of his vocation clouded his quest with even more doubts. My
question ing my vocation drove me closer to my calling, my surety
in the priest hood. It was Lock, not Mike, who first lost interest
in prying into the case of Father Dryden. No boy in our college
department admitted to anything even worth telling in Confession.
Seminary life thrived on hot juicy gossip that was forgotten with the
new scandal of the next day. But about Father Dryden the talk was
all about the golden priest.
“I was rash,” Mike said. “I got excited.” He shuffled around.
“I guess Gunn’s military methods have gotten more to me in eight
years than I like to suspect. Father Dryden’s a good guy after all.
Very intellectual, satirical, ironic. Maybe I took him too literally.”
“You’re as literal as a fundamentalist Protestant,” I said. “Never
accuse me of confus ing literature class for life again.”
“I never...”
“You always make fun of me when I tell you one thing can mean
two things.”
“Father Dryden is a strange man,” Lock said, “but a good one.
He’s opening the intellectual window to blow some air through this
place.”
“Thank you, Sherlock Holmes,” I said, satisfied, and went off,
grateful everyone was being true to his vocation and obedient to the
purity required. I knew unprovoked nocturnal emissions were not

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