As I have mentioned before, I was raised by my Grandparents.
My Grandmother was a devout Catholic, My Grandfather was
a decent, humble, hard working factory worker. He was friends
with our parish priest, cooked the fish-frys on Friday evenings, called
Bingo on Saturday nights, but refused to attend Mass. He detested
organized religion, but NEVER ever talked bad about the church.
But one day out of the year, he inserted his little barb of wit that has
stuck with me to this day. When we came home from Mass on
Ash Wednesday, we all wore our "Badge" of devotion in the middle
of our foreheads. Upon seeing this, he would smile to himself and recite
the only poem that he ever spoke aloud. Now he knew what the priest
spoke as he made the sign on each parishiner's forehead, so this was his
little take on the whole thing...
"Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust.
If it weren't for your Ass-Hole
Your belly would bust"....
That was our family's kick off to Lent. Is it any wonder why I am who I am?