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To say the least Nuns and I were like oil and water, we did not mix. I said that I would write more about the nuns later and so here it comes because I have a lot to say about these nasty, unhappy ladies who devoted their lives to God. Unlike today there were many Nun’s when I was a child. Today the younger generation has figured out there were better ways to devote your life to God without marring him, giving up all your worldly goods, and never be able to own anything again except your Habit. On the other hand Priest could, and did have everything they wanted including the Nuns. Okay God forgive me for that one, but that was the stories I have heard.
I will make this disclaimer, I am sure all Nuns were not like the ones I ran into, and probably were very satisfied with their choice in life. But let me tell you about the ones that I was blessed to encounter.
I will make this disclaimer, I am sure all Nuns were not like the ones I ran into, and probably were very satisfied with their choice in life. But let me tell you about the ones that I was blessed to encounter.
When I was four years old I was sent to church with Zizi Rosie and her daughter JoJo Since we were kids we had to sit in the children’s section. I had seen Nuns before this and at the time I thought they were some kind of Angels. I can clearly remember thinking that they must have had a button under their Habit which they pushed, and went sent up to heaven when they were not needed here on earth. What did I know? I was four years old had never gone to church before. I can’t remember what I did at the time, I think I was talking to my cousin, suddenly a Nun appeared and gave me hell, no pun intended. She made the comment that they were just like everyone else and that I better behave and do as they said or I was going to displease God. Remember I was only 4. Oh well I guess if you are going to terrorize children you might as well start while they are young.
So now I knew they were just like eveyoene else, not angles that could go up to heaven when they wanted to. Now I had a whole new outlook about them. They were just like us and had no special powers. This was good to know, so now I didn’t have to be frightened, as well as pay attention to them. Unfortunately that was the wrong assumption, and I quickly learned that you did not want to piss these ladies off.
The Priest we’re not so nice either, we were all scared to death of Monsignor Sheerin. On Saturday’s when we went to confession and we saw that he was the priest hearing our confessions, we all slid to the other side of the pews so that we could have Father Francino hear our confessions instead. He was much nicer man, of course, he was Italian! My friends who went to school at St. Margaret’s told me, that during choir practice Monsignor would grab the Altar Boys and shake the heck out of them, if they were not performing correctly during rehearsals. She said she that she was so scared of him if he even looked at her she almost threw up, others have told me just about the same thing. This is not the way religious training should have been, WTF. Sunday mornings in the freezing cold winter, Monsignor would stand in front of the Church with no coat on. My mother would always say that was because he was all “liquored up”. He always did have a red face and a rather large red nose. I steered pretty clear of him, smart child that I was.
When I was six years old I had my next encounter with a Nun when I was in first grade at Alexander Hamilton Public School. I knew nothing about Catholic School and how it was run. All I knew is that if we got sick or had an accident at school we were sent to the school nurse. Our school nurse was Mrs. Buccanon, nice lady. I can still picture her in her white uniform, nurse’s cap, white shoes, and stockings. I guess they wore all white as a sign of cleanliness and or purity. So now I wonder why the Nuns had to wear black. White would have been much more appropriate for them, as a sign of purity, maybe just maybe, it would have changed their nasty habits, pun intended.
Anyway I was going to make my First Holy Communion and after school we were required to go to a special sessions at the Catholic School In this session ch we were co-mingled with the Catholic school kids to practice walking into the church together. Before class, out in the playground, a girl was swinging her coat around and somehow it connected with my finger nail and tore it off. Once in class I was raised my hand to show the Sister, that is what we called them, my injury. My cousin Donald Cresitello, (you may know him as the 2 time Mayor of Morristown) went to catholic school and was in this class. He kept looking at me and shaking his head “NO”. My finger was bleeding and it hurt so I ignored him, thinking that the nun would send me to the nurse. But that wasn’t the case, not by a long shot. After she got tired of ignoring me she came over to me and very aggressively told me to put my hand down. I told her what was wrong and she told me to show her my hand, which I did, and that’s when she struck it with a ruler. I kid you not, now I had a sore, stinging hand with a bleeding finger. No nurse for me. I don't even know if they had one. . After class my cute little cousin came to me and said, “I told you to put your hand down”. He knew how mean that particular nun was. I can't remember her name for sure, but I think it was either Ursalina or Theresa. I do think she was the head nasty nun. With her in charge it was no wonder that all the rest of the nuns were bitchy. Can you imagine how bad it got when they had PMS.
The next encounter was when I was ten years old, and this occurred at Assumption Church. I got my Mama to send me there because I thought it would be an improvement over St. Margaret’s. Wrong!!!! The Nasty Nuns there were the same, so from now on I will be referring to them as NN.
At the time the church was having a fund raiser and wanted us kids to participate. So they gave us boxes to collect our money in, and said that if we raised $5.00 we would get a lovely statue of Jesus. Well that got me hooked because I did love Jesus, and I wanted that statue. I went all over the neighborhood collecting money, and every day got more excited as I counted my money, getting closer to earning my $5.00 for the church. I had even put in a few cents of my own to make my goal. I could just see that statue of Jesus sitting on the shelf in my little bedroom. On the day that we had to have in our boxes collected by the NN, I was so proud and happy because I had raised my $5.00. Once our money was collected we had to wait one more week to get our statues. The following week I was happy to go to Sunday school for a change, in expectation of receiving my Statue. But did I get my eagerly anticipated statue? Not! as the NN handed them out to the other kids she passed me by. I asked the NN why I didn’t get my statue and she said, “Because you did not raise $5.00 so you don’t get one”. She was not nice about it either. I insisted that I did. But it was obvious I was not going to win that battle. I remember thinking that maybe I counted wrong; the NN would not lie, would she? That was it, no more Sunday School for me. I put my foot down on that one. I guess Mama thought it was not worth the fight. I won that battle. Thank you, Jesus!
As I said Father Francino was very nice, and being that he was Italian, all the Italian ladies invited him over for dinner. He was young and new to the church when I was a child, I remember all the teenage girls in our neighborhood had a crush on him. One of our neighbors, was a very dedicated Catholic and a member in good standing with St. Margaret’s Church, and she had him over her house for dinner quite often. I remember that she made an Italian Rum Cake that was to die for, and she always made it when he came to dinner. She would always send him home with one for the NNs. I think they like to drink. I guess if I was them I probable would want to stay drunk 24/7. I wonder if she put extra rum in their cake.
I asked my friends who went to Catholic School in Morristown to give me some of their experiences; I got so many it is going to have to be in another story. Of 7 ladies I only got one who felt she had a good experience. They had stories of brothers being locked in basements and cloak rooms and left there all day. I believe this is one of the reasons there are so many lapsed catholics from my generation.
This is a Recipe for an Italian Rum Cake.
So now I knew they were just like eveyoene else, not angles that could go up to heaven when they wanted to. Now I had a whole new outlook about them. They were just like us and had no special powers. This was good to know, so now I didn’t have to be frightened, as well as pay attention to them. Unfortunately that was the wrong assumption, and I quickly learned that you did not want to piss these ladies off.
The Priest we’re not so nice either, we were all scared to death of Monsignor Sheerin. On Saturday’s when we went to confession and we saw that he was the priest hearing our confessions, we all slid to the other side of the pews so that we could have Father Francino hear our confessions instead. He was much nicer man, of course, he was Italian! My friends who went to school at St. Margaret’s told me, that during choir practice Monsignor would grab the Altar Boys and shake the heck out of them, if they were not performing correctly during rehearsals. She said she that she was so scared of him if he even looked at her she almost threw up, others have told me just about the same thing. This is not the way religious training should have been, WTF. Sunday mornings in the freezing cold winter, Monsignor would stand in front of the Church with no coat on. My mother would always say that was because he was all “liquored up”. He always did have a red face and a rather large red nose. I steered pretty clear of him, smart child that I was.
When I was six years old I had my next encounter with a Nun when I was in first grade at Alexander Hamilton Public School. I knew nothing about Catholic School and how it was run. All I knew is that if we got sick or had an accident at school we were sent to the school nurse. Our school nurse was Mrs. Buccanon, nice lady. I can still picture her in her white uniform, nurse’s cap, white shoes, and stockings. I guess they wore all white as a sign of cleanliness and or purity. So now I wonder why the Nuns had to wear black. White would have been much more appropriate for them, as a sign of purity, maybe just maybe, it would have changed their nasty habits, pun intended.
Anyway I was going to make my First Holy Communion and after school we were required to go to a special sessions at the Catholic School In this session ch we were co-mingled with the Catholic school kids to practice walking into the church together. Before class, out in the playground, a girl was swinging her coat around and somehow it connected with my finger nail and tore it off. Once in class I was raised my hand to show the Sister, that is what we called them, my injury. My cousin Donald Cresitello, (you may know him as the 2 time Mayor of Morristown) went to catholic school and was in this class. He kept looking at me and shaking his head “NO”. My finger was bleeding and it hurt so I ignored him, thinking that the nun would send me to the nurse. But that wasn’t the case, not by a long shot. After she got tired of ignoring me she came over to me and very aggressively told me to put my hand down. I told her what was wrong and she told me to show her my hand, which I did, and that’s when she struck it with a ruler. I kid you not, now I had a sore, stinging hand with a bleeding finger. No nurse for me. I don't even know if they had one. . After class my cute little cousin came to me and said, “I told you to put your hand down”. He knew how mean that particular nun was. I can't remember her name for sure, but I think it was either Ursalina or Theresa. I do think she was the head nasty nun. With her in charge it was no wonder that all the rest of the nuns were bitchy. Can you imagine how bad it got when they had PMS.
The next encounter was when I was ten years old, and this occurred at Assumption Church. I got my Mama to send me there because I thought it would be an improvement over St. Margaret’s. Wrong!!!! The Nasty Nuns there were the same, so from now on I will be referring to them as NN.
At the time the church was having a fund raiser and wanted us kids to participate. So they gave us boxes to collect our money in, and said that if we raised $5.00 we would get a lovely statue of Jesus. Well that got me hooked because I did love Jesus, and I wanted that statue. I went all over the neighborhood collecting money, and every day got more excited as I counted my money, getting closer to earning my $5.00 for the church. I had even put in a few cents of my own to make my goal. I could just see that statue of Jesus sitting on the shelf in my little bedroom. On the day that we had to have in our boxes collected by the NN, I was so proud and happy because I had raised my $5.00. Once our money was collected we had to wait one more week to get our statues. The following week I was happy to go to Sunday school for a change, in expectation of receiving my Statue. But did I get my eagerly anticipated statue? Not! as the NN handed them out to the other kids she passed me by. I asked the NN why I didn’t get my statue and she said, “Because you did not raise $5.00 so you don’t get one”. She was not nice about it either. I insisted that I did. But it was obvious I was not going to win that battle. I remember thinking that maybe I counted wrong; the NN would not lie, would she? That was it, no more Sunday School for me. I put my foot down on that one. I guess Mama thought it was not worth the fight. I won that battle. Thank you, Jesus!
As I said Father Francino was very nice, and being that he was Italian, all the Italian ladies invited him over for dinner. He was young and new to the church when I was a child, I remember all the teenage girls in our neighborhood had a crush on him. One of our neighbors, was a very dedicated Catholic and a member in good standing with St. Margaret’s Church, and she had him over her house for dinner quite often. I remember that she made an Italian Rum Cake that was to die for, and she always made it when he came to dinner. She would always send him home with one for the NNs. I think they like to drink. I guess if I was them I probable would want to stay drunk 24/7. I wonder if she put extra rum in their cake.
I asked my friends who went to Catholic School in Morristown to give me some of their experiences; I got so many it is going to have to be in another story. Of 7 ladies I only got one who felt she had a good experience. They had stories of brothers being locked in basements and cloak rooms and left there all day. I believe this is one of the reasons there are so many lapsed catholics from my generation.
This is a Recipe for an Italian Rum Cake.
Italian Rum Cake
Ingredients
Italian Sponge Cake
5 egg yolks
5 egg whites
1 ½ cups sugar
1 ¼ cup pastry flour
1 teaspoon vanilla
½ teaspoon grated fresh lemon rind, optional
I don’t care much for sponge cake, so I just make a Duncan
Hines or Betty Crocker yellow cake and I add the lemon rind. But if
you do make it, pour batter into two
round 8 in pans and bake at 375 for 15 to 20 minutes, depending on your oven,
or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean.
Italian Pastry Cream
3 Tablespoons sugar
3 egg yolks
3 Tablespoons flour
½ teaspoons vanilla
2 cups of whole mile
1 Tablespoon butter
Chocolate Cream
Same as basic Pastry
Cream only add, 2 ounces baking chocolate grated and 1 tablespoon butter.
½ cup of dark rum,
more if that is your preference.
1/3 cup water an 2 teaspoons light corn syrup
Okay are you ready,
here we go, I swear to God this is a pain in the ass to make but it is well
worth it. If it wasn’t I would not be
typing all these instructions. If you do
make it, and I am sure that is a long shot because of all the work, let me know
what you think. I might make it for
Christmas this year but I am not even sure of that.
Sponge Cake
Place egg yolks and
sugar in a mixing bowl and beat until very thick and lemon colored, it should
be at least doubled in volume, and thick like frosting, this can take up to 15 minutes. Oh the hell with it buy a mix or if you have
a sponge cake recipe that you like, make that.
Italian Pastry Cream
Place sugar, egg
yolks, flour and vanilla in a sauce pan and mix well. In a separate pan, scald milk. Very slowly pour milk over egg mixture, in a
thin stream, beating constantly with mixer in pan. Cook on low heat, stirring
with wooden spoon, until mixture reaches the boiling point, then cook for 4
minutes longer stirring constantly. Remove pan from heat and add butter, mix
well. Pour into bowl and let cook. Cover
with plastic wrap so a skin will not form.
Now if you are lazy like me, just buy a box of vanilla cooking pudding
and make that.
Chocolate Pastry
Cream
Do exactly the same
as the Italian Pastry Cream instructions only after the 4 minutes add the
chocolate and cook for 1 minute longer Remove pan from heat and add butter, mix
well than do the same as for the Italian Pastry Cream. Again if you are feeling lazy, just buy a box
of Chocolate cooking pudding and make that.
Although I must say the homemade creams are much tastier.
Rum Syrup
Mix together the water, sugar and rum in small pan. Bring to boil, and stir until sugar is
dissolved. Remove from the heat and cool
before using.
Assuming you baked
the cake and it has cooled, slice each layer in half, diagonally. Now start assembling cake. Place bottom layer
on platter cut side up, sprinkle or brush with about ¼ of the rum syrup. Be careful not to get the cake to wet. Spread a layer of vanilla cream on first
layer then top it with another cake layer.
Put on the rum and chocolate pastry cream. Continue this process alternating layers. Once this is done, you can cover the cake
with whipped cream or just sprinkle
powered sugar on the top and let it go on the sides as well. You can put crushed pineapple in the Italian
Pastry Cream and chopped pistachio nuts in the chocolate cream if you
wish. Refrigerate for 1 hour before
serving. This also freezes well.
This cake is worth the work and the expense. My neighbor must
have been a really devout Catholic because she made this cake for the Priest and NN often. I bet her kids were treated very well by the Nuns. They new what side there cake had rum on, LOL
