portfolio-of-failure-christmas

Christmas 2009

By: Pat Moriarty

It was the night before Christmas and like any good catholic family, mine was getting ready for Midnight Mass. We actually weren’t good Catholics. Christmas and Easter were the about only time we’d set foot in a Church, but we made damn sure were we at the 10PM midnight mass every Christmas Eve. The church we belonged to didn’t pull in huge crowds. It was curious how our church stayed afloat, given its location in West LA and the lack of a congregation. My mother, father, sister and I probably made up 10% of all the people at church that night. But Christmas isn’t about how many people you can pack into a building, its about taking actions to make others happy. In this case, it was making my mother happy by getting dressed up and going to church so I put on my one pair of long pants and the dusty sweater that I hadn’t worn in months. My nose ran and eyes itched from the dust, but I only needed to wear it for an hour so I packed my pocket with paper towels to wipe my nose, and we headed out.

              As was tradition, we showed up about 5 minutes late. Walking in the front door, you were greeted by a small foyer. To the left, there was a soundproof room for parishioners with children. To the right, two unisex bathrooms, and straight ahead was the nave or main room. Our church was originally a walnut processing facility and not a big one at that. There were about 20 pews, and we quickly found our row towards the back, and things were as they had been every year. 

              I have to admit. I have never enjoyed going to church. Most of the time, I would be looking at the beautiful architecture and design of the church. I would usually try to make it about 30 minutes into the mass before going to the bathroom to break up the time. Similar to halftime in a sports game. This would give me a fresh reset and help me make it though the rest of the mass. The unspoken rule was that only one family member could leave the pew at a time, and my dad had already gotten up and went to the bathroom. Towards the end of the mass, everything gets more interactive. There is the “Peace Be with You” handshakes and communion so it was imperative I took my break before those started. I formulated a plan. Since my nose was still running at this point, I figured I could bypass the single family member rule by pretending to need a tissue. I let my nose drip till it was visible and got up side stepping by my mother making sure she could see my nose leaking.

              I walked out of the nave and into the foyer. I finally could take a load off and relax, but I still needed new tissue to complete the act so I walked over to the bathroom and open the door. Inside, I saw my father sitting on the john with his pants around his ankles cleaning his soiled underwear.  I closed the door as fast as I could and walked back to the pew where my mother and sister were seated smiling ear to ear. Trying my hardest not to burst out laughing. My mother instantly noticed and told me to stop, but I could. Not after what I had seen. After about 10 minutes, my mother decided we needed to leave. We walked out and back to the car where my father was already sitting inside. Nobody said anything as we got in the car and drove home. This was the last time we went to Christmas mass.