Sharing everything was a way of life for me even before I married my high school sweetheart. Growing up in a family with six kids living in a house with only one bathroom might give you an idea about how much sharing was required.
Sunday mornings as the family was getting ready for church was something you could not imagine in your wildest dreams unless you had the same family situation. I often wondered how Willie Kalka’s family made out on Sunday go to meetin’ mornings. They had thirteen youngin’s so maybe they went to church in shifts. One bunch to early mass and then the rest to late mass?
Saturday mass didn’t count back in the day at St. Stanislaus Catholic Church where every female was required to have a head covering of some type before entering. My mom always carried a small pack of Kleenex in her purse for an emergency cover. As I recall it took a handful of bobby pins to keep those tissues from flopping in the breeze.
As we got older my brother Eddie and I were altar boys living close to the church so we were usually scheduled to serve early mass which allowed some relief for the family and we got to avoid a lot of drama. After mass we could change out of our “good clothes” and spend a couple hours on the river before Sunday dinner. That’s lunch for you non Bandera speaking people. Sunday dinner was always fried chicken and we never missed it no matter what the river had going on.
Back then we were still limited to a mackerel fish patties meal on no meat Fridays for supper. Young Catholics today don’t realize how easy they have it. They can eat meat filled tacos all day on Friday and not worry. On Saturday they can go to mass in the early evening to fill their obligation then get out and head straight to the 11th Street Cowboy Bar with a newly reconditioned soul.
Looking back over fifty- six years of marriage it was sharing everything from simple pleasures to quiet times and heartbreaking tragedies. I have never in all this time figured out how a boy who always had a job rather than playing sports in high school ended up married to a head cheerleader. It wasn’t money because I spent that as fast as I made it. I certainly don’t think I was all that charming or good looking so the mystery remains.
I still smile as certain songs come on my truck radio from the 50’s and 60’s music channel that remind me of when she was riding with me. They would make her break out into one of her old cheerleader routines. She did that until her final days. She was so special and the better part of our shared life of Growing Up In Bandera.
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