Part I

I attended catholic grade school in the 1950s. To be a young Catholic in those days was to live in a perpetual state of fear. At least, that was the intent. The nuns and the priests constantly reminded us that we had to live a righteous life, or we would end up in hell. And I’m not talking about the modern-day metaphorical hell people so flippantly talk about, the one you create for yourself while still on earth if you stray too far from the good life. I’m talking the real McCoy: the abode of Satan, where one could spend an eternity down there baking in flames.

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