"The true test of intelligence is not how much we know how to do, but how we behave when we don't know what to do."
—John Holt (How Children Fail)
I just thought of that yesterday. Why did I do that? Where was my thinking?
I am really not an unintelligent person, honest. But, I had no base from which to judge except what I remembered from my childhood. What my 'base' remembered was bread was 19 cents a loaf, and cereal was 30 cents a box. I knew this because my grandparents and dad ran the corner grocery story. But that was 1957. It was now 1972. Prices had changed.
I did a lot of thinking when I first left. But I learned that no matter how much of a journal I kept or how long I thought, I really needed to bounce ideas off other people. But I didn't know any other people but the people in the Community.
So,I just figured this out: I could do three things for sure when I left. I could make bread--my Mom taught me that. I could clean toilets as that was usually my household job in community. And I could sew. We all could sew. We had to. How do you fix stuff you wear if you don't sew? You sure as anything do NOT run out to the local department store and buy a new something. In fact, I didn't even know the names of local department stores in St. Louis. I knew about Marshall Fields in Chicago when I was a kid; but I wasn't in Chicago.
Now I knew I couldn't go buying an oven withwhich to bake bread, because I couldn't carry an oven on a bike--that's how I left, on a bike from our garage. Anyway, I couldn't carry it anywhichway.
My other area of expertise--toilets, cleaning them--well, I certainly was not about to buy a toilet and cleaning utensils.
So, I thought a lot, went to a priest who explained the ins and outs of buying or leasing a car, and a used one was a wise choice, he said. So, I found in the paper a '69 volkswagon for $1400 that I learned I could buy over time. I made $100 downpayment on it, signed a lot of papers and counted my remaining money: I had a bit more than $200.
What do I do with it? Of course, I buy a sewing machine! I bought one just like my mother's sewing machine. I didn't know anything else. It cost just under $200.
Note this: when I finally decided to leave, after 15 years of being 'in', I remember our Viz--that was our nickname for the Mother General who was actually called the Visitatrix because she was to be visiting all of the 'missions' at some time or other--hence: Viz. She said to me, "Alma, how much $ do you think you will need?" Being not at all aware of costs of anything, I said '$400' because that sounded like a large amount of money.
I bought and ate peanut butter, apples, and milk. That worked for me. I rented an apartment in the poor side of town near my old school where I would still work--very bad decision-- in St. Louis for $30/month.
And I applied for a credit card, a MasterCard.
Here I was nearing age 33, and I still felt like this little 10 year old kid inside, with a few more skills, of course.
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Comments
Entering the 17th century is very interesting
Take a byte out of life-a roaring lion of a byte~!
I guess you just don't believe it at first, that everyone in this whole world wide Community in 1957 is this way. (There were 45,000 of us back then, all over the world.) When you first 'enter the Seminary' you dress the dress, walk the walk, and do all the other things expected of you. One thing you don't do much of, is talk.
However, silence made me observe stuff a lot. I noticed that you could shut a woman up, but you could never shut her down. Each woman there had a way of asserting herself. Sure, we all wore the exact same clothing, but that didn't make us the same. We did everything at the exact same time, but that didn't make us the same. We ate the same stuff, read the same books--which were pretty old and very flowery, btw--but still we were not the same. We got up at the same time, fell to our knees at the same time--I know, I looked under the beds. Still, we were not the same.
We had no mirrors, no private washing sinks, just a pitcher and a big bowl. We filled our pitcher each morning to bring back to our alcove, poured the water into our bowl, washed our faces and hands, behind the neck and ears, and carried the bowl back to the room with long rows of sinks as for washing clothes, and dumped the bowl. (Later, I learned that this was the hair-washing room, and we washed our hair once a week--Wednesday.) Everything was done in silence, eyes down, and we were to be prayful. Recollected, they called it. I used to think: 'eyes at half-mast'. That was officially called: custody of the eyes.
When I was first learning the new Community terminology, I'd make jokes in my head--where else? Who was I going to tell? I'd think: 'Oh good, some day I'll be asked--"were you ever in custody" and I could say, "no, but my eyes were". I always thought I was funny, at least to myself I was.
Of course there was no radio, TV, newpapers, magazines or anything current. I never ever knew what happened in 1957-1958. I cared less about ever finding out about what happened once it was '59 and I started college because I had nothing to hook stuff to. News meant nothing to me. They could have as easily said, 'Frogs are now in charge of this country, and we are at war with all the hot dogs of the meat market.' That's what the Presidential Race was to me; and the Vietnam War. Nothing. Just words.
So, I learned one thing big time: isolate a person from society into a society that lives unto itself, and if the job is done well, you never really come back into the main stream, never. gh
leaving
All this is fascinating, Georgia.....but I'm still waiting to learn WHY you decided to leave. What was it that made you decide, after 15 years, that being a nun was no longer what you wanted to be?
I guess part of that answer would also include what made you decide to join a religious community in the first place, and why that one in particular.
jeri