We wanted to be purveyors of our faith …

I could not wait for kindergarten to end and start the first grade of Catholic school. At The Blessed Sacrament School, we wore uniforms.
The perfect uniform consisted of a green and blue plaid skirt with suspenders and a white long sleeved blouse. Green or blue knee socks with the option of black or brown tie shoes topped off the outfit.
Being Catholic I felt parochial school was far superior to public school. I think the nuns had something to do with it. Catholic brainwashing and guilt were taught at a very young age.

Sometime in the Spring holy water, in bottles in the shape of a cross, was passed out to every student. We were told the water had been blessed by Monsignor Kelly himself. Big Woop!

This apparently was a lesson on baptism. The nun explained to us the ritual. The baby was to wear an elaborate white gown for both boys and girls. Some gowns were handed down from generations of yesteryear. We had to have Godparents in case our parents perished … an awful vision to plant in the mind of a child. They would be responsible for our religious upbringing. As Catholics we were not dipped in water, but had it splashed on our heads.

It was also carefully explained to us that not everyone had to be baptized in church. The example of choice was to tell us that if we saw a dying baby, we could use our handy dandy holy water to baptist them. If it were a girl, we were demanded to baptize her in the name of Mary; Joseph for a boy.

We were excited by this empowered gift. My girlfriends and I walked all over the Mt. Pleasant neighborhood looking for dying babies. God help us if we ever found one.

P.S.  This same nun also told us that there was no Santa Claus.