Speaking of religion brings to mind that I was once a good little boy. The day of the Confirmation Dinner, I am not sure how old I was, but under ten.

My best friend, who later went on to become a golf semi-pro was Douglas Burke. He was a good Catholic boy also, but we used to fight like cats and dogs over Catholic dogma. For example on the day of our Confirmation, while living in Abqaiq, several things happened that caused the questioning of faith.

To start Mom and Dad's day off right I had gotten one of the little girls who lived behind us on 13th street in Abq. to go for a ride on the Camp bus which, we old timers know, went around the camp all day. I saw nothing wrong with us riding the bus, but her Mom, mine and most of Abq. was out looking for these two little kids, because a Shamal had blown in and they thought we had gotten out of the fence, which I guess I might have been guilty of in the past, and gotten lost in the desert. Well, Aramco sent out over fifty search vehicles, a Saudi tracker was brought in, and they started looking at the fruit market which used to adjoin Abq.

In the meantime we passed by this activity at least twenty five times and enjoyed the excitement, never guessing we caused it. Nonetheless about four thirty, knowing I had to be at Confirmation at 6:30 that night, we got off the bus and started home. I got my bike and Doug showed up, and we got into a fight about if God was dead or not. This fight got real physical real fast. The argument was that if He wasn't dead, how could He be in Heaven? By now I was really mad, dirty from fighting with Doug, and riding home by the school as fast as I could when my bike hit some sand and over the handlebars I went.

I knew my hand hurt, but now my face was scratched up and Doug had put a lump on my head to start. So home I go . . No one was there so I got dressed for the dinner.

As an aside, The Catholic Church's Bishop from Aden, His Holiness Bishop Magleni, who was to be at the Confirmation dinner was in town. A band made up of houseboys followed him around all day while he met with people and played " Never on a Sunday". My Dad, a devout Catholic to this day, has never gotten over the fact that the Bishop liked the tune so much, he kept asking for it. The only problem was that the Americans all knew the song referred to a prostitute not working on a Sunday . . . a day of rest. No one had the courage, until later, to stop the band.

Well, I got Doug, who looked pretty much as I did and we wanted to see what the excitement was all about, but didn't want to go all the way to the market, so we though "Why not climb something and we can see from there."

There was a 150' high communications tower in Abq. to talk with the exploration teams that was heavily fenced and had a guard. Once again, the guard messed up and up the tower Doug and I went.  Eventually someone from the market saw us and the camel manure really hit the fan. Seems to me that by the time we were brought down, the entire town was there. I thought I saw a rope or two, but most likely that was my imagination.  Mom still claims our argument about God being dead or alive was the cause for the tower climbing. We thought it was so tall it went to heaven, so we wanted to find out for ourselves. We did find out what "spare the rod, spoil the child meant" however.....

At the dinner I was seated close to the Bishop and had trouble eating as I was having two problems, one my butt hurt like hell and my hand was swollen to almost twice its normal size. The Bishop noticed and cut my fish for me and mentioned to Mr. John McQuillen, my sponsor that it looked as if I had hurt myself somehow. Off to the Clinic, and the day ended. I had broken my wrist, or actually fractured it in three places.

When my dad found out where I had been, some rather lengthy conversation about little boys and girls took place, but I don't recall all of the evils I was told about, except one . . . you go straight to Hell if you are naughty with girls . . and some comment - an off the wall remark from Dad, about warts.....

Michael Crocker(DH 65)
Nacogdoches, Texas

" By the Brats, Of the Brats, For the Brats"
Date: Mon, 03 Jun 1996 10:18:00 -0500