Je mal a la Coeur

In addition to my stomach ache, Montezuma’s revenge and vomiting (sick day yesterday for which I’m getting the evil eye), I gasped as I watched the news last night: St. Finbar’s, the parish in which I was baptized is going under financially. What does this mean? Their school is about to go the way of Our Lady of Perpetual Help high school—it’s going to close in June without a fundraising effort of $200,000 to break even.



This was the school that somehow wasn’t “good enough” according to my parents despite the fact that I lived two blocks away and the tuition was much less. I had to go to the snotty cesspool known as Visitation Academy, where I was sneered at for being a blue collar imp. I do, however, have fond memories of the actual church being dolled up in pink and yellow flowers for Easter, and swathed in burgundy and green during Christmas. I used to take Peter Rabbit, my favorite stuffed animal, up to Father Faiella at the end of mass and INSIST that he shake Peter’s paw. I was about 3 or 4. I figured if everyone gets to shake hands with this guy from the altar, that must include furry friends as well. This priest took it all very seriously, and never laughed once.



Faiella came under fire for spearheading the massive renovations that took place between 1985-1987. The entire neighborhood argued their dislike how they displaced the pews (which were sitting under crumbling paint), and changed the steps out front (which were chipped marble.) “Restore, DON’T renovate!”, they screamed. But the church looked better than ever. The ceiling painted with angels was restored as well, and all the statues got a good polishing. There were still plenty of Catholics in the neighborhood back then. Now it’s all Chinese and Russians, who do not worship the same way.



I took the preliminary high school placement tests in November 1984 in the gym of St. Finbar’s school. It was only the second time I was ever in there. I had moved away two years prior to the hell of 6B. Why, oh why, I remember thinking, couldn’t I have gone to this school? It was RIGHT THERE. I still could’ve caught the b64 bus and taken it in the opposite direction. What the hell were my parents thinking?



None of this is important anymore, though, given the diocese’s need to chop costs. All these child abuse lawsuits must be the trickle-down effect of the cash-flow problems. Still, if I had kids, I wouldn’t dare put them in a public school. I’d be better off home-schooling them. Despite my long-standing problems with the Catholic church, they know how to run schools.



So much of my old neighborhood is gone, and it’s still truly where my heart is. I might have left it, but it never left me. I think I can spare $20 for the effort to help the one church I love. First it’s the school that caves in, then it’s the church. I saw this with Our Lady of Perpetual Help, and that was one of the better high schools in Brooklyn. Their last graduating class was 1999.



I think I’ll drop a note and say Peter Rabbit told me to pitch in. Faiella will get a kick out of that, I’m sure.