When I was driving, I recalled an old friend. He was a grownup
and I was a kid. He was one of a crew of men from the State mental hospital who
used to come off grounds to work on local farms. We had them there for hay
season a few times. I was the 'water girl'. I'd carry a big bucket of water and
a ladle down to the field and they'd get a drink that way. At lunch a bit
later, they would come up to the house for a meal of some sort, usually at the
table, but sometimes near the cistern in the yard.
One of the guys was a big redheaded fellow named Wiley or
Riley? I asked him one day why he wanted to be evil? He said, “I'm not evil”...
I said, “Well you're wearing one of those 'Catholic' things around your neck
and it's plain to see without a shirt on.” (I was taught by this side of the
family that Catholics were agents of the devil). He laughed and said it was the
“Holy mother and she made him feel safe.” Hm? Then I asked, “Why do you want to
be a lunatic?” He said he wasn't really a lunatic. So I said he should run away
then. He said, “I put myself in here for my nerves; I had a nervous breakdown.”
I never saw him the next summers. But he was a nice man... I
hope he didn't hang himself like they said. He was the first Catholic that I
knew was one, and he was nice.
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