Papal Vacation, 1978
Early in August 1978, my family ventured to Cape Cod for a weeklong (or maybe it was two weeks, I can't really remember - I was four years old) vacation. As a little tyke, the idea of going on vacation just mesmerized me. I was out of my head - it was the first time I had ever seen the ocean (actually, it was Nantucket Sound, but I wouldn't have understood the distinction).
I played with my matchbox cars on the sand and lost a bunch of 'em when I left them to close to the shore. I lived in fear of hermit crabs (which I called "Hitler crabs", a legendary gaffe that I still hear about from my older siblings at every family gathering). Not to be outdone, my sister Anne (who was six) projected herself onto a local story of a woman being raped in Barnstable County, and told my Dad that she wanted to sit on his shoulders because she "didn't want to get raped."
For little kids it was an outrageously cool time. For my parents, however, the tone of the vacation changed when they heard about the death of Giovanni Battista Enrica Antonia Maria Montini (who would most likely be called G-BEAMM were he around today). I'm talking about, of course, Pope Paul VI, who had ruled the church for the previous fifteen years and brought it out of the Second Vatican Council, figuratively and literally, closing the book on the Council in 1965.
Anyway, the pope's death meant that my mom sort of disappeared for the rest of the vacation, except at mealtime. She prayed for the pope (which I don't really understand, since these guys are almost guaranteed a spot in heaven) and for the church. Her prayers were answered about three weeks later when Albino Luciani was named pope. Luciani took the name Pope John Paul I and settled into the Vatican for a long reign as pope.
Luciani died 33 days later. Some claim that he was murdered, but, since popes don't have autopsies, it was never determined. All I know is that trip to Cape Cod in late summer 1978 was the last real childhood vacation I had, and I can't help but think that my mom was afraid that by going on vacation, we would kill another pope.
I played with my matchbox cars on the sand and lost a bunch of 'em when I left them to close to the shore. I lived in fear of hermit crabs (which I called "Hitler crabs", a legendary gaffe that I still hear about from my older siblings at every family gathering). Not to be outdone, my sister Anne (who was six) projected herself onto a local story of a woman being raped in Barnstable County, and told my Dad that she wanted to sit on his shoulders because she "didn't want to get raped."
For little kids it was an outrageously cool time. For my parents, however, the tone of the vacation changed when they heard about the death of Giovanni Battista Enrica Antonia Maria Montini (who would most likely be called G-BEAMM were he around today). I'm talking about, of course, Pope Paul VI, who had ruled the church for the previous fifteen years and brought it out of the Second Vatican Council, figuratively and literally, closing the book on the Council in 1965.
Anyway, the pope's death meant that my mom sort of disappeared for the rest of the vacation, except at mealtime. She prayed for the pope (which I don't really understand, since these guys are almost guaranteed a spot in heaven) and for the church. Her prayers were answered about three weeks later when Albino Luciani was named pope. Luciani took the name Pope John Paul I and settled into the Vatican for a long reign as pope.
Luciani died 33 days later. Some claim that he was murdered, but, since popes don't have autopsies, it was never determined. All I know is that trip to Cape Cod in late summer 1978 was the last real childhood vacation I had, and I can't help but think that my mom was afraid that by going on vacation, we would kill another pope.
posted by Bloggalicious at 07:41
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