I was never an altar boy

I'm thinking of an incident in my distant past. I think I was around 10 years old.

I was growing up in a Roman Catholic family. I was one of five children -- my parents had boys first (in 1957, '58, and '59), then had their two girls later (in 1962 and '66).

Anyway, at the time of which I speak, in 1968, I was at or nearing 10. Paul was an altar boy. My parents made it very clear that they expected me to become an altar boy, too.

That was probably my first rebellion against their expectations. I put my foot day. THIS I would not do.

The reason for this rebellion? Nothing more than my general feeling that the opportunities for me to make a public fool out of myself would be too great.

But it did turn out to be a landmark in my development. Because the success of my little rebellion was my first evidence that life is NOT just a long line of boxes that have to be checked off in proper order and at the proper time. I began to understand that I would have something to say about which boxes I would prefer to leave unchecked.

Let's hold on to THAT notion heading into the New Year, 2019.

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