Reasons We Leave  − May, 1956

Tony raced home from school with a single thought in his mind:  basketball.  He passed the church, then the grocery, and then the neighbors’ houses until he reached his own small house.  He threw open the back gate, raced alongside the house, and bolted through the back door into his mother’s kitchen.  It was hot, and it smelled like home.  She’d been cooking.

He threw his satchel into the corner and brushed his lips against the soft skin of his mother’s cheek.  He took the steps up to his bedroom two at a time.  “Anthony”, called his mother’s voice from the kitchen.  He grabbed his basketball from the closet he had once shared with his older brother, and clattered down the stairs back into the kitchen.  

A little out of breath, he responded, “Yes, ma?”  She beamed at him, and asked, “Are you going to talk to Father Paolo?”  He nodded his head, and said, “Yes, ma, but first I’m going to shoot some hoops with the boys”.  Her smile faded slowly.

“Anthony, you will go to see him, won’t you?”  She sounded a little worried.  He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her gently on the forehead.   He reassured her.  “Ma, I promise I’ll see him.  Don’t worry.”  Her forehead relaxed and she smiled a bit uncertainly.  “OK, honey.  You remember what we talked about, right?” she asked.  He felt his chest tighten a bit.  “About me becoming a priest?  Yes, I remember.”  Her smile widened.  

“OK, Anthony. Have fun with the boys.  Wait, take one of these.”  She handed him a warm cookie, the chocolate bits still gooey from the oven.  He breathed in the scent of the sugary treat, and felt giddy, like a little kid.  He took a bite and kissed his mother again.  “Bye, ma.  See you for dinner.”

With the ball under one arm, he pushed open back door open and stepped outside.  He knew that Sonny and Butch would be down at the court.  If things worked out, Dominick would show up too, and they could play a couple of hard, fast games of two on two.  He took another bite of the cookie, wanting it to last just a little longer.

He thought about what he would say to Father Paolo.  He didn’t know whether he wanted to become a priest, but there was something appealing about the idea of going away.  It meant leaving everything he knew behind, but there were some things he needed to leave behind.  There would be other boys, and there would probably be basketball, too.  But he would miss his big family and his pals. He would miss the times in the evening when the family would gather in the kitchen and make music together.  He always contributed his rich, unwavering tenor to the mix.

Tony was just like the other boys in the neighborhood.  He had his mother’s dark Italian hair and coloring. He was well liked and had a good sense of humor.  At the same time, he felt different.  His mind was often elsewhere. He was almost insatiably curious.  Even though he loved playing ball and joking around with the boys, after dinner, he’d hit the books, and be done with his homework in no time.  Then he’d pull out the extra books his English teacher had given him.  

To please his mother, and because he was curious, he also read a little bit of scripture each night.  The bits he read were like hard nuggets that he would chew on until they softened and he could begin to glean their meaning.  He noticed the differences and contradictions among the different books of the Bible.  He would think about these while he did other things.  He would puzzle it out as he trudged to school in the mornings.

Just as he reached the court, he saw his best friend Sonny execute a skillful lay-up.  He dribbled his way over to the basket to take some practice shots.

“Hey, Tony, how’s it going?” Sonny asked, smiling broadly, his crooked tooth giving him a look that was uniquely Sonny.  Tony dribbled a few times, and then hit the basket with a perfect shot of his own.  “I’m doing all right.  I’m doing great!”  The two boys practiced and joked around while they waited for the other boys to show up.  

“Hey, Sonny, how’s that new math teacher?”  Sonny cracked a big smile.  He laughed as he dribbled, the ball going from one hand to the other.  “Aw, Tony, you know I hate math!”  Tony just laughed.  He knew Sonny hated math, but he also knew that Sonny dug girls.  The new math teacher was a pretty young woman, a few years out of college.  

“Yeah, well, I have a feeling your math’s about to improve”, Tony joked.  Sonny laughed, and looked a little sheepish.  “Well, Tony, what do you know?  You might just be right about that.”  The boys laughed companionably.  Butch was the next to arrive.  Tony noticed that he had grown taller than Butch.  He’d been growing taller than a lot of people.  

After Dominick showed up, the boys began playing two-on-two.  They were all very serious about their basketball.  They had fun, but they were extremely competitive.  They were fairly well matched, but Tony’s growth spurt was beginning to give him a height advantage he had not previously enjoyed.   

After three games, Tony held his hands up, breathing hard, and said “Fellas, I’ve got to leave a little early.  I’m supposed to see Father Paolo before dinner.” Sonny gave Tony a look that told Tony that he’d better lay it out for his friends.  He had the other boys’ attention now, too.  He’d mentioned the possibility of the priesthood, but only in the most casual of terms.  All of the boys knew that in every family, there was pressure on one or another of the sons to enter the priesthood.  A mother’s fondest dream was that a son of hers becomes a priest.

Sonny asked, “So Tony, are you serious about this?” not wanting it to be true.  Tony shrugged, and said, “I’m thinking about it.”  Sonny grimaced.  “Tony, you know that means no girls for you.  Ever!”  Tony nodded.  “Sonny, I know that.  But I’ve got other worries.”

“Like what?” retorted Sonny.  “What worries do you have?  Your sisters all treat you like a prince.  You’ve got your mom wrapped around your little finger, and your dad’s really swell.”  Tony laughed, shaking his head.  “Sonny, it’s not always what it looks like from the outside”, he chided.  “You’re right about my sisters and my dad.  But my mom, well, my mom is… Geeze, guys, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Fair enough”, Dominick conceded.  “So, what about being a priest?  Is that what you want?” he asked, nervously.  He’d been feeling some pressure at home, too.   He didn’t want to be a priest.  He wanted to be like his dad and work in the mill.  His dad worked hard to provide for the family, but Dominick had seven brothers and sisters.  He never went to bed hungry, but he sometimes went to bed wishing there had been more food on the table.  He worried about his younger siblings.  He didn’t care about himself, but he didn’t ever want to see them go without.

“Well”, Tony mused, “that’s what I’m trying to figure out.  That’s why I’ve got to talk to Father Paolo.  I know a lot of what he’s going to say.  But I need to get past the rhetoric and find out what it’s really about.”  Sonny shook his head.  “Get past the what?  What was that word you said?”

“Rhetoric?” Tony asked, bemused.  “I just mean the story he’s going to tell me about why I should be a priest.”  Sonny looked a bit peeved.  “OK, well, why don’t you just say that instead of speaking Greek.”   Tony chuckled.  “Sonny, if I go to the seminary, I will probably be speaking Greek for real, or at least, reading it.”  Sonny laughed, and gave Tony’s arm a good-humored punch.  “Sure thing, Tony.  Speaking in Greek.  You’re not even all that good at Italian, for Chrissakes!”

Tony laughed.  Sonny was a good friend.  He and Sonny were different, but they had been buddies ever since Tony had moved into the neighborhood.  Sonny had introduced him to all the boys, and the two of them had run the streets together for years.  Tony fit in all right, but Sonny was the guy everyone loved.  He was witty, good-natured, he stuck up for his guys, and he protected his sisters.  He was always getting in trouble at school for being funny when he was supposed to be serious.

The other boys started dribbling again.  Tony used his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead.  His mind shifted gears.  He thought about the questions he wanted to ask Father Paolo.  He said farewell to his pals, and dribbled his way over to the church, the ball going from his right hand to his left, and back again.  He could dribble quite skillfully, even when his mind was in another universe.

What Tony hadn’t wanted to tell his buddies about his mom was that she was a little bit crazy.  Well, not exactly crazy.  But she sometimes said some very disturbing things.  Over the years it had made him increasingly uncomfortable.  She would tell him that she was just waiting to die.  She would say, “Anthony, I love you and I’m happy to raise you, but once you grow up, I’ll be ready to go.”  

Tony’s dad had suggested that he enter the priesthood.  His mother had immediately seized upon the idea.  The dream of Tony becoming a priest gave his mother something to live for.   

There was something else about his mother that he found disturbing.  His older sisters had always been bitter rivals, vying for their father’s love and attention.  His father had always been affectionate with his sisters.  Tony had always thought that their antics were silly, but he could see why his sisters might fight over their father.  His dad really was “swell”, as Sonny had said.

But he’d noticed that his mother became silent and edgy when her own father was around.  She would accidentally drop things, or startle badly when someone would come up behind her too quietly.  Tony wasn’t sure what this behavior meant, but he had the sense that something ugly had happened between his mother and grandfather.  His mother was also distant with his father.   He couldn’t think of any men that his mother ever relaxed around, besides Father Paolo.

Tony reached the church, and gazed up at its magnificent edifice.  He bounded up the many stairs, and pulled open an enormous door.  He automatically dipped his fingers into the holy water and crossed himself.  He could see the Father at the altar, readying the candles and other paraphernalia for the 5 o’clock Mass.  He didn’t have long.  He walked silently between the pews, genuflected, and approached the Father.

Father Paolo looked up, squinting a little bit.  Then his face smoothed out and a smile of joy crossed his face.  Tony was one of his favorite and most dutiful altar boys.  “Antonio”, he called.  “How are you on this beautiful day?”  Tony returned the Father’s smile, and said that he was just fine.  “Father, I wondered whether we could speak for a few minutes.”  The Father nodded his head deeply, and said, “Of course, my son.  Please join me, and we will talk”.  Father Paolo was an elderly man.  His speech still bore the imprint of his early years in Italy.  Tony followed him to a small office at the back of the church.  

The Father gracefully came to rest behind his desk, and Tony took a seat in one of the ornately carved chairs in front of the desk.  “So, my son, what is it you would like to discuss?” the Father asked. Tony smiled, bowed his head while he collected his thoughts, and then looked up to meet the steady gaze of the priest.

“Father”, Tony began, “well, you know that I have been thinking of joining the priesthood.  I want to talk with you about the seminary.  I am trying to understand whether this is the right step for me.”  The Father nodded slowly, approvingly.  

“My son”, the priest began.  “I have known you for many years.  You have a fine mind and a keen sense of justice.  You are a serious boy, and you excel at your studies.  You care deeply about other people, not only for yourself.  As the youngest child in a family, you are unusual in your selflessness.” Tony flushed at the praise.  It was not easy for him to receive compliments.  But he sensed that the Father was being sincere.

“Antonio, you would make a very fine priest”, Father Paolo continued.  “But Father, I—“, Tony began.  “Antonio”, the priest interrupted, “I know what you are thinking.  You already know what I am going to tell you.  You are a very perceptive boy.  Your thoughts are always a step or two ahead of everyone else’s.” Tony colored again.  “Father, how—“, Tony began again.

“Antonio”, the Father interrupted again, “there are things we needn’t speak of.  Let me tell you this.  If you enter the seminary, you will receive a fine education.  Your teachers will open a world for you that you cannot even begin to imagine.  You will experience the joy of becoming closer to God.  You will learn what it is to become God’s servant.  You can harness your innate sense of goodness and empathy to do great good in your community.  You will never find greater joy than in the service of God.”

Tony sat back in his chair.  He let out a long breath.  He hadn’t realized it, but he had been holding his breath.  He thought about what Father Paolo had said. Tony didn’t want to speak about some of his reasons for considering the priesthood, and the Father seemed to understand more than he was saying. Tony needed some time to think about what the priest had said about the seminary.  It sounded good, but Tony wondered how he was to be sure that it was the right decision for him.  He didn’t want to announce to the world his commitment to God or make a major life decision out of disingenuous motives.

“Thank you, Father.  You have given me some things to think about”, Tony said gratefully.  “You have always been good to me.  I don’t know how to thank you.”  Father Paolo nodded deeply.  “No need to worry, my son.  You are a good boy, and I know that you will think deeply about this matter.  Take your time.  Come back to me with questions when you have them.” Tony smiled, with a sense of relief.  The Father was sharper than he’d imagined.  He felt easier, now, about the decision he had to make.

He jumped up from his chair suddenly, feeling giddy again.  He felt a sense of joy and lightness.  “Thank you, Father Paolo!” he said, fervently.  The Father nodded deeply again, his smile matching Tony’s in intensity, and gestured that it was all right for Tony to leave the office.

Tony almost skipped along the sidewalk, his basketball under his arm now.  He was lost in thought.  He had grown hungry and was eager to join his parents at the dinner table.  His brother and sisters were much older.  His brother had been gone into the Air Force when Tony was nine, and his youngest sister had married a few years ago.  When he reached his house, he noticed his father sitting on the porch.

“Hi, Pop!” Tony said happily. Tony’s father was an easygoing man, quiet and gentle.  He rarely raised his voice.  He rarely needed to.  His children loved and respected him.  “Tony, come here, will you?” Tony’s father requested.  “Sure, Pop!” Tony responded, eagerly.  He climbed the stairs onto the porch, and sat beside his father in an adjoining rocking chair.  The father and son rocked comfortably together.

Tony passed his basketball from one had to the other as he gazed at his father.  “Son”, his father began.  “There’s something I need to say to you.” Tony wondered what it could be.  His father was a man of few words.  He held the ball still in his hands. “What’s that, Pop?” Tony prompted.

“Tony, you know that I work very hard at the mill.  My God, the crazy hours I work.  I feel bad for your mother and you sometimes.  It’s hot, hard, dirty work.  I’ve been having trouble breathing lately.  I’ve been coughing a lot more.” Tony’s felt a pang of worry.  “Pop, that’s terrible!” he uttered.  

“Tony, please promise me that you won’t be like me.  I don’t want you to work in the mill.  I know you are thinking about the priesthood.” Tony’s dad looked him in the eye. Tony felt his chest tighten again.  “Pop, I… I…”, Tony began. Tony’s father shook his head, and placed a warm hand on Tony’s shoulder.  “Tony, don’t worry about it.  Whatever you choose is fine.  Be a priest, or don’t.  But go to college.  Get an education.  Your old man will be the proudest father on earth if you do better than he did.”

Tony felt an unexpected sadness, and the back of his throat began to ache.  He had always looked up to his father.  His father had taken care of him and his siblings as well as any father in their neighborhood.  He hated to hear his father talk this way, and yet, his father was giving him the permission to do what he needed to do.  He needed to get away from this house; away from a mother who was in a continual state of grief.

He looked at his father shyly, and his father smiled warmly. Tony’s heart quickened and he nodded his head.  “Yeah, Pop.  I think I would like college.”  His father stood up, and said “I think its time for dinner.  It smells pretty good in there.” Tony stood up, too.  He stretched his long frame, and grunted at the physical pleasure of stretching muscles that had been hard-used.

He followed his father into the house.  He helped his dad ready the kitchen table for dinner.  No one spoke as the silverware clattered and glasses clinked against dishes. Tony’s mother was often silent around his father.  His father tried to be a comfort to his mother, but it seemed like she just pushed him away.  She had been leaning more and more on Tony.  

As a child Tony had enjoyed her attention, but had always been confused and uneasy when her talk would turn to dying.  He didn’t understand what would make a person want to die.  As he had grown older, he had simply begun to accept it as part of who his mother was.  But he disliked feeling as if he were the only person his mother could talk to.  He often encouraged her to talk to Father Paolo.

As Tony and his family sat down to dinner, Tony knew that he would go away to the seminary.  He was at the right age to enter the seminary’s prep school.  If he were going to go, he saw no reason to wait until he made it through the local high school.  What the prep school had to offer was worlds apart from what the local high school could give him.  

In a weary tone, Tony’s mother asked him to offer the blessing. Tony had always felt ambivalent about offering the blessing.  He thought it should have been his father’s job.  But he realized that if he were going to be a priest, he had better embrace the opportunity to practice.  He wasn’t entirely certain that he was going away for all of the right reasons.  As he bowed his head, but before he asked God to bless their food, he silently put himself in God’s hands and asked God to guide him.

When he looked up, he saw that his mother’s eyes were shining and her lips were trembling.  His father looked weary, but content.  He poked his fork into his mother’s mushroom risotto, and brought a forkful to his mouth.  It tasted as sweet as any risotto he had ever eaten.

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