Date: Thu, 17 Feb 2005 10:37:39 -0500 From: edcwriter@yahoo.com Subject: THE PRIEST & THE PAUPER - 6 THE PRIEST & THE PAUPER - 6 Copyright 2005 by Carl Mason and Ed Collins All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written permission of the authors. However based on real events and places, "The Priest and the Pauper" is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold gradually. If you would like to read other Mason-Collins stories, you might turn to "Out of the Rubble" and "Castle Margarethen," both of which are archived in Nifty's "Historical" section. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the authors at edcwriter@yahoo.com This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults and teenagers. As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, remember that maturity generally demands that anything other than safe sex is sheer insanity! CHAPTER 6 (Revisiting Chapter 5) As the dance music resumed, Dave came over to the Gang's table where the boys huddled dejectedly. Looking at the "456" ticket, he murmured consolingly, "Wow...how close can you come?" Shane introduced the handsome collegian to his friends who greeted him warmly. "Shane," he exclaimed, "if you would really like to work on that project with my friends and me at the University, I REALLY hope that you will look me up." Before departing, ostensibly because there were several "hot women" waiting to dance with him, he grinned at the redhead and said, "Here are my dorm and home phone numbers." Pressing a slip of paper into Shane's hand, he reiterated, "Hope to hear from you!" The boys all looked at Shane with even greater respect as the sharply dressed college man returned to his table, extended his hand to the beautiful Colleen, and led her out onto the dance floor. Wow...some guys have all the luck! (Continuing Our Story - USC 13, Holy Cross 14!) Well into the afternoon on New Year's Day, Shane finally got up the courage to walk over to the rectory. Peering in the sitting room window, he could see a highly excited Father Tom watching football. When he knocked, the young priest quickly came quickly to the door and almost pulled the redhead into the entry hall. "You won't believe what's happening!" he babbled. "You won't believe what's happening! The ROSE BOWL - our very first bowl game ever! It's the fourth quarter! Southern Cal. is leading by 13-7, but Holy Cross is driving! For Heaven's sake, Shane, come into the sitting room!" (AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I'm in the wrong category, but will my readers forgive a little "fantasy"? ) Father dragged the confused boy down onto the sofa and thrust a bowl of popcorn under his nose. "Eat!" (Shane needed no second invitation!) With time running out, the Crusaders drove closer and closer to the goal line. With one second showing on the clock they scored! 13-13... As over 100,000 fanatics in the giant stadium went berserk, the Purple and Gold lined up for the conversion. The ball sailed right between the uprights - and Holy Cross had defeated the USC Trojans by a score of 14-13! Fr. Tom leapt to his feet and danced a THOROUGHLY confused redhead all around the room. "You didn't come over here to watch football," an exuberant young priest declared as he sprawled back on the sofa, his heart rate dropping into the 'safe' range. "What's up, Big Red?" "Well...," the boy mumbled, munching on another handful of popcorn, "I promised that I'd talk with you. No, that's not right, Father. I NEED to talk with you. But the football?" "Nothing to worry about, Shane. I ration myself on New Years Day - and that, unfortunately, was my last game!" Fr. Tom replied. "What's up? Need to talk with a friend?" "Yeah, that's it," a far more relaxed boy than the one who had come to the door said. "I want to go to Confession, Father, but first I need to talk with a friend - and you're the best friend I have in the world! One thing: Could our talk be as private...ah...confidential?" The young priest's reply was direct: "First, Shane, I'm honored to be your 'best friend.' You're right at the top of my list, too - and (he emphasized) you always will be. Secondly, yes, our talk will be completely confidential, but remember that goes both ways. What I say is as private as what you say, ok?" "Yeah," Shane answered. When you ready to go to Confession, God will be there with the same forgiveness and strength to do better that he gives me. So shoot." "Forgiveness and strength...yeah...that's what I need, Fr. Tom. I looked at myself in the mirror a few days ago - you remember...the day I took off - and I'm absolutely disgusted and scared out of my mind. I think it might have been better if I'd never been born!" "Tell me about it, friend," the priest murmured. Shane went on to tell the priest every detail laid out in the previous chapter of this story - the fact that he DID blame himself for not saving his family from a fiery death, the introduction to sex he received at the hands of Cousin Pete and his buddies in Quinassett, the sexual experiences he had on the road in southern New England during his late 12th and early 13th years, and the taste for "rough" sex that he had developed and sought out on occasion since. He was particularly detailed about what had happened with Lee just days before. The young lad, his brow furrowed in determination, also mentioned that he had really WANTED Dave to bring him off last night (and was frustrated as all hell when the fanfare had interrupted him!), and that he WANTED to accept his invitation to go to Storrs. Finally, choking back sheer terror mixed with embarrassment, unable to raise his gaze from the carpet, he admitted that he loved Fr. Tom and dreamt almost every night - and constantly during the day - about having sex with him. Father let the boy talk. Frankly, he had never seen anything to equal Shane's courage. When the torrent of fear, pain, lust, and self-loathing began to slow - when the lad finally lapsed into silence, his face absolutely crimson, his sweat mixing freely with his tears - he interjected a comment. "We must talk about you and me, and homosexuality, Shane - and we shall...soon. First, however, I would like you to do a little job for me and return to speak with me tomorrow. Is that ok?" "Sure, Father, what do you want?" the boy asked, happy to on something that he thought would be just a little less emotional. "I want you to: 1) give me a diagram of the house where your parents and sister died, 2) indicate where you were when you discovered the fire, 3) indicate where your parents and sister were, 4) give me SOME idea of their weight and size, as well as yours at age 10, and 5) add anything else about the fire that you can remember. Ok, Big Red?" "Can do, Father," Shane said briskly, though not as relieved as he had been a moment before. "Now, we have a problem," Fr. Tom exclaimed. "I generally refuse to make anyone work on a holiday like today. Therefore, I am without a cook - and I just don't feel like leftovers from the Party! Someone told me earlier today that Tony's Pizza Parlor downtown is open. Do you like pizza?" "Oh, yeah, Father!" the redhead almost shouted. (He did not add that his experience with pizza was limited to forays into Tony's dumpster during his early days in Sherburne.) "Ok, then," Father retorted, "let's go get some!" Shane was in seventh heaven, for he LOVED pizza. Unfortunately, like so many Irishwomen of her generation, Mrs. Murphy thought it was foreign garbage and refused to include it on the boys' menu! Hence, the smells alone in the pizza parlor just about drove him crazy. One difficult moment did occur during dinner. As he absentmindedly pushed an anchovy off his pizza onto the plate beneath, Shane paused, looked at Fr. Tom and asked, "Do you remember Thanksgiving, Father?" Lifting the free anchovy from Shane's plate, Fr. Tom answered, "Yeah. What about it?" "Do you hate me for what I did to you that night - the night I took off for Quinassett?" the redhead asked, his face pale, his voice low and trembling. After a brief pause, Father Tom responded in a matter-of-face voice, "The short answer, Shane, is 'No, I do not hate you. In fact, though there are some limitations on how I can show it, I love you. Furthermore, it's not a question of what you did to me, but what we did together!' Got it?" "Yeah, I got it, Father," the boy replied as he averted his face to hide the tears of relief that filled his reddened eyes. "There's more to talk about on this topic, you crazy redhead, but let's take it one step at a time," the young priest added. Promptly at 3:30 the next afternoon, Shane showed up at Fr. Tom's office off the Mary Chapel with the diagram of his former home and the other requested information. "Ok, Shane," Fr. Tom began after studying the data. "It's really late at night, you are very sleepy, and you had just left the outhouse some distance beyond the house. The fire, feeding on some really old wood, was just engulfing the entire house. Spreading like wildfire in a stiff breeze... You are ten years old and weigh, maybe, 70 lbs. (That's not a really big kid, right?)" Shane agreed. "Your parents, who had been drinking, are probably fast asleep in their bedroom on the side of the house, not far from a rear door that was held shut with planks because the frame was rotted. Your father weighs maybe 170 lbs; your mother, 125 lbs. Your little sister (six years old and, maybe, 45 lbs.) sleeps upstairs in a loft, while you (ten years old and, maybe, 70 lbs.) sleep in the living room on the couch. Do I have most of it right?" "Yes, Father." "So... Remember, boyo, that you are now 14, going on 15, and SMART. You've proved that in the last few years by surviving and becoming a respected leader. (Shane grinned as he basked in the praise of the human being whose opinion he valued above all others.) Pretend that you are another person looking at these data. Will you please give me a fair estimate of the chance the ten year-old has of getting his family out of the burning house?" Shane takes several tries at coming up with the estimate, each time faltering, and seeming to begin again. He is clearly becoming agitated, and his eyes are beginning to redden. Fr. Tom rises from his desk chair, comes over to where Shane was sitting, and kneels beside the lad. Suddenly, Shane swivels his body and throws his arms around the priest, sobbing. "That's ok, my boy, we don't have to answer that question today," Fr. Tom whispers as he rubs the boy's back. "Take those papers home with you tonight, and we'll try again tomorrow." "But I tried, Father!" the tearful redhead persisted. "I tried so FUCKIN' hard! It's just that when I got around to the front of the house, the flames were SHOOTING out of the door. I think it was open. I couldn't even get close." "So... Since you tried, as hard as you could...with love, you OUGHT to have been able to save them?" The boy was silent. "That's ok, Shane, we'll work on this again tomorrow." "Listen, boyo," the young priest continued, "I know that you are tired. I have a second question, but if you want, I can hold it until tomorrow." With a look of utter determination on his face, his fingers clamped tightly onto the chair's arms, the redhead answered, "No, Fr. Tom! Let's have the question." Keeping his arm locked around the youngster's shoulders, the priest went further. "On several occasions yesterday, Shane, you said that the terrible pain you have experienced - in Quinassett as a child and a few weeks ago, on the road as a 12 and 13 year old, here in Sherburne when you were on the streets and at Lee's hands a few days ago - was "deserved." You DESERVED that treatment from Cousin Pete's buddies; a young teen DESERVED to wander three states, hungry...exhausted...having to sell his body; you DESERVED to live in abandoned factories, cold...hungry...with no adults to love and support you; you DESERVED what Lee provided, corn-holing...a mammoth piece of wood up your ass... being strung up like a side of beef...being pissed on...and being terrorized by giant rats? My second question, Shane, is WHY? Why did you "deserve" it? The poisoned words and thoughts that an immature mind had assembled to provide some explanation for his plight flooded from his mouth. "That's easy, Father! Any guy who kills his family deserves ANYTHING he gets! He has to PAY!" "You killed them?" Fr. Tom inquired quietly. "Well, I let them die! What's the dif?" came the quick, almost automatic response. Suddenly, there was complete silence - unless, that is, you count the nearly audible clicks of several pieces of a four year old puzzle beginning to fall into place. An utterly shell shocked young man looked in wide-eyed confusion at his priest, his friend, his hero. Helping Shane to his feet and holding him close for a moment, Fr. Tom said, "Let's go into the Mary Chapel for a few minutes, Shane, and pray...together." Several days later, the redhead showed up for his appointment. His steps seemed lighter; his shoulders didn't seem to be bearing quite as much weight; he even grinned like the Shane whom the young priest knew...and loved. "Father, I have a couple of answers for you. I don't think there's any way that I could have saved my parents and sister - and if I didn't kill them, I sure as hell don't deserve all the crap that has been going down in my life. Trouble is, there's something in me that keeps telling me that I DID kill them...and that I DO deserve punishment." "Keep giving yourself the RIGHT answers, Big Guy, and asking for God's help. Eventually, your mind will get the message!" Fr. Tom growled in a determined voice. "When your mind gives you a really bad time, come in here and talk and pray with me...anytime, day or night!" Shane grinned and said, "You can depend on it. Father - and thanks!" "There's something else, Father," Shane mumbled, once again ill at ease. "Yeah?" Fr. Tom answered, raising his eyebrows. "Spill it." "Well, Father," Shane continued with some reluctance, "Well...uh...I'm...homosexual - and it seems to me that's something kinda different from what we've been talking about." Fr. Tom breathed a sigh of relief. At least, HE hadn't had to bring up the subject! "Well, I am, too, Shane - so maybe we can compare notes. I'm also a priest, so maybe I can help there as well." (AUTHOR'S NOTE: The following discussion is heavily indebted to Nick Turner's "Dancing to the Music of Their Hearts" (Nifty/Adult Friends), especially Chapters 4 and 10. Turner's enlightened and beautifully written story is a provocative model for all of us who would attempt to deal - however inadequately - with these and similar topics.) "Do you think the fact that you're queer is something else for which you are responsible - and makes you deserving of the treatment you have received?" Fr. Tom continued harshly. "Well, isn't it," the boy replied, his lips trembling. (Pause.) "Let me ask you a question," the young priest suddenly said, gentleness creeping back into his voice. "If you could choose to be homosexual, would you?" "Hell no, Father Tom!" the redhead exploded. "Why would I want to do something that would bring me so much grief? Father! Other than on Thanksgiving night, I've never HAD sex other than to get my rocks off or to make sure I had a place to sleep and a little food to eat!" "Haven't you also allowed your body to be used cruelly to punish yourself...for killing your family...or, maybe, for being homosexual?" Fr. Tom asked quietly. (Pause.) Not quite willing (or, perhaps, ready) to deal with the implications of the priest's question, Shane again burst out, "How in hell, Fr. Tom, can I ever serve at the altar given the things I've done?" "Whoa, Big Red! One question at a time!" the priest murmured. "If you did not, and would not, CHOOSE to be homosexual, how could you possibly be RESPONSIBLE for it - and, as I suggested a little while ago, if you're not responsible, why do you deserve punishment?" "I hear you, Father," Shane responded, "but doesn't the CHURCH teach that homosexuality is sinful?" Fr Tom pursed his lips thoughtfully and sat back in his chair. "Well, lad, it DOES teach that it's 'unnatural.' Sex occurs naturally between a married couple - a man and a woman - for the purpose of procreation." Grinning at the perplexed look on the redhead's face, he added, "For making babies...for continuing the species." "Oh," the youngster grunted, shifting uneasily in his chair. "But it's the homosexual ACT that's sinful, not homosexuality. I have to be honest with you, Shane. In the long list of things that are 'sinful,' I don't really believe that sex between two men who deeply love each other and try their damnedest to live an honorable life ranks all that high on the list. Don't try to put it in the same class as turning one's buddies loose on a helpless ten year old, or leaving one's own flesh and blood to die naked in freezing weather, or brutalizing a young teen who turns to him for that which he mistakenly sees as 'help'." "Look at it this way," Fr. Tom continued. "If you want to be perfect, attempting celibacy is probably the best way to go. But the Church knows that no human being is perfect and, thus, it only holds out perfection as the ideal...the goal for which we should strive. It's a lifelong journey, Shane, wherein Holy Mother Church proclaims the ideals presented by God, inspires us, and forgives us when we stumble, are truly sorry, and vow to use the Savior's strength to do just a little bit better the next time around." The young lad sat upright in his chair, his bright green eyes fixed on his beloved mentor. "Let's see if I've got it right, Fr. Tom. I'm NOT a piece of homosexual shit 'cause I didn't choose it and I'm not responsible for it. I AM responsible for my sexual actions, and the game is to try to become the best person I can be - even though I'm homosexual," he muttered. "And if...when... I screw up, the Church will forgive me as long as I am really sorry and promise to use the strength God gives me to do better?" "Well," Father responded, "there may be a few gaps in your account, but you're on the right track. We'll talk further. Shane, I want you to come into the Chapel and pray with me for a bit. Then, I want you to see me tomorrow afternoon and share your thoughts on all the heavy stuff that I've been laying on you. Ok?" As Fr. Tom came from in back of his desk, the redhead rose, threw his arms around him, buried his head in his chest, and hugged him as hard as his young muscled arms could hug. Arms around each other's shoulders, they walked into the Mary Chapel and knelt before the altar. Young Shane couldn't wait. After fidgeting all through supper, turning down an exercise session with thanks, and lying restless on his bed in thought for the better part of three hours, he got up and raced over to the rectory. It must have been a little after 8:00 in the evening. Fr. Tom came down from upstairs and, when he saw who it was, unlocked the door and let him in. "Shane, what's up?" "Father, I'm SO sorry. I know you have a life, but I feel that mine has begun all over again! PLEASE...PLEASE...can we talk?" With a weary smile, Fr. Tom offered him a Coke, and led him into the sitting room. "Father, I can't believe it! I KNOW that I didn't kill my family - and I KNOW that I'm not a worthless piece of shit just because I'm homosexual. And I AM sorry for so many sins that I HAVE committed," he continued breathlessly. I'm even sorry that I've hated myself so much that I've torn myself apart. And, Father, I don't want to go back to Lee - or anyone like him - though THAT is going to take a LOT of help," he muttered darkly. "Relax," you crazy redhead, God has promised that your sins can be forgiven and He's promised that He'll be with you when you next feel the 'itch'." "You know?" Shane asked unbelievingly. "No, but I know myself well enough that I guessed," Fr. Tom responded. The two young men looked at each other radiantly with love and understanding. "PLEASE, Father, come next door with me," Shane whispered. Fr. Tom looked into the beseeching eyes of the young lad, thought for just a moment that it might have been better for him to think and pray for a while longer, but finally shook his head, realizing that 'he didn't really control such things'." He took the boy's outstretched hand and allowed himself to be nearly pulled next door to the church. After they had prayed, the priest and the pauper took themselves into the Confessional. In a firm young voice, the boy entered into one of the great Sacraments of the Faith. "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. Bless me Father, for I have sinned." Fr. Tom blessed the lad, listened patiently to his confession, and even asked a few questions. When satisfied that he was sorry and determined to cooperate with God's grace, he pronounced absolution and imposed a penance. Outside the Confessional, they embraced and Fr. Tom traced the sign of the Cross on his forehead. "Are you ready to serve at Mass on Sunday with Keanu and Andy McManus?" he asked lightly. The redhead's shout of "Y-E-A-H!" reverberated back and forth between the stone walls of the great old church. Grinning as he followed the echoes with his head, the youngster burbled, "Father, I've been ready since you caught me at Mrs. Murphy's store!" Leaving Shane to begin his penance, the young priest walked back towards the rectory, his head bowed in prayer. (Sunday Morning, 7 A.M.) His stomach growling with hunger, his fingernails scrubbed until his fingers were almost raw, his dark red hair repeatedly shampooed until it shone softly in the light, Shane arrived breathlessly at the Church a good twenty minutes before he had to. Actually, Keanu and young Andy McManus joined him before Fr. Tom arrived. Following brief prayers, they assisted each other in donning their Eucharistic robes. After Keanu had rung a bell at the back of the church and the organist had called upon the congregation to "Please rise for the celebration of the Mass," Andy, as Crucifer, held his crucifix-surmounted staff high as he led the small procession down the center aisle. He was followed by Keanu and Shane who bore lighted candles and, finally, by Father Tom. As the organ poured forth a mighty hymn, the procession progressed smoothly into the sanctuary where Keanu and Shane placed the candles upon the altar and Andy locked the staff into its wall holder. The boys had been trained well. At the steps of the altar, Keanu and Shane moved a little to the right, turned inwards, and bowed to Fr. Tom. Keanu received his Biretta, kissed it, and with Shane and the priest turned towards the altar and genuflected. As Shane continued silently mumbling instructions to himself, the service proceeded flawlessly through the opening prayers and responses, the reading of the Epistle and the Gospel, and the reception of the people's alms. Feeling as if he had received a special honor on the occasion of his first service, Shane approached the priest with a small cruet of water, in one hand, a small bowl in the other, and a small towel over the arm that carried the bowl. Fr. Tom ceremonially washed his hands as Shane poured water over his hands into the bowl. Father then dried his hands on the towel, folded and replaced it on the redhead's arm, who then withdrew. As the priest consecrated and raised in turn the Eucharist and the wine, Keanu and Shane rang special bells as Father Tom lifted them for the congregation to venerate. After the priest had received communion, he administered the Eucharist to Andy, Keanu, and Shane and, then, to the congregation. Kneeling through the remainder of the communion service, the boys rose at the end of the Mass, waited until the organist began the final hymn, whereupon they proudly carried the crucifix and the candles down the main aisle followed by Fr. Tom. At the rear of the old church, obviously delighted with the work of his new "team," he insisted that they stand with him as the congregation (impressive for a seven o'clock Mass) emerged. Shane was happy to meet Andy's father and to receive countless congratulations on his first service, especially from the nuns. Nevertheless, he did have SERIOUS reservations about several old women who pinched his cheeks and exclaimed to Father how handsome his new altar boy was! No matter how proudly Fr. Tom beamed at him, his 14 year-old composure shriveled under the onslaught. Besides, Keanu and Andy were snickering their fool heads off! (Of Bullies and Cops) Later that week, their lessons and chores completed, Shane and, indeed, most of the Gang were on their way over to the parochial school where a hoop had been installed on one wall of the building. (As long as the grammar school kids weren't shut out, the Sisters had no objection to their joining those who remained after the close of school. The fact, of course, was that the younger boys gloried in their attention and often "stuck around" just to see them.) Greeting Keanu and several of his fellow eighth graders - and even a few of the "early developers" among the seventh graders - Shane soon had a good game going. Younger boys were substituted right and left until just about everyone who desired to play had a chance. As Keanu and Shane took a breather, Keanu asked Shane if he had heard about the new Brother who, rumor had it, had just been hired to join the staff. "What do they say about him?" Shane asked his buddy. "Well, I didn't see him," Keanu responded, "but Pete did and he said that he looked like a guard who played for the New York Giants! A real bruiser..." "Wow!" Shane exclaimed. The boys' conversation was interrupted by a sudden disturbance over to the side of the complex where thick bushes separated the School from the street. "What's going on?" Shane asked. "Oh, shit!" Keanu snarled, "It's those damned bullies from Sherburne High again. Those bastards are big...and they're getting really vicious!" Shane leapt to his feet, yelled for the Gang to gather 'round, and took off towards the commotion. As they approached, Shane saw that four or five hulks had a slight, brown-haired youngster on the ground and were kicking at him with their heavy boots. It was Andy McManus! He was already bleeding heavily from the nose, his glasses were broken, and his things were scattered around on the ground, some of them trampled into the mud. "Andy's one of ours," Shane screamed. Get the bastards!" To make a long - and very bloody - story just a bit shorter, the Gang lit into the bullies and literally wiped the ground up with them. When they finally escaped - which WASN'T easy - their eyes gave promise of some glorious shiners, lips and noses dripped blood, their clothing was torn and muddy, and they were bawling like first graders! The boots had been torn off two of them! Helped to his feet, Andy clung trembling to Shane who felt a surge of compassion...and a little more. Slowly, the Gang half-carried the youngster back towards the school where nuns seemed to be watching from every window! Passing through a crowd of cheering parochial school kids, they were met at the School door by Sister Superior. Silence immediately descended on the assemblage! Motioning for the Gang to enter, she turned Andy over to a hulking figure in a brown robe and led the Gang into the school's lunchroom. There, on a large table, they found steaming cups of hot chocolate, several bags of chips and - oh boy! - a PILE of candy bars (no doubt confiscated from her students who were forbidden to bring them to school!). "I thought you might be cold and hungry after your basketball," Sister Paul exclaimed...with all of the innocence of a seven-foot King Cobra! After supper that night - a meal that Mrs. Murphy observed with alarm was the very first that hadn't been rapaciously inhaled - Shane and Keanu asked to speak with Fr. Tom. Although he had already heard from Sister Superior, he listened to the boys patiently, especially to their concern about "wars" breaking out with the high school kids. "Better things to do..." Keanu mumbled. On the very next morning, Fr. Tom got an appointment with Duff McManus, a parishioner and the local Chief of Police. At the police station, a building about as old as St. Pat's, Fr. Tom barely got a word in before Captain McManus laid a real tale of woe on him about deteriorating youth conditions in Sherburne. "It's not just the homeless kids any more," the Captain complained. "I've got adolescents in here every day from nearly every school in the District who are accused of vandalism, theft, assault, and even worse. It's an explosion - and, if we don't do something about it pretty soon, we're going to be dealing with a murder! Hell!" he added, "my own kid got assaulted at the parochial school the other day! If it hadn't been for..." McManus suddenly halted as pieces of the story fell together in his mind. "Those were YOUR kids who saved him, weren't they, Father? And Shane...the redhead who my kid can't stop talking about...he was one of the altar boys who served with Andy last Sunday...you know...the one the old biddies couldn't leave alone?" "Yep," Father responded proudly, "They're mine - and Shane's the one. How's your boy?" "Oh, he'll live," the Chief grumbled, "but how many won't if we don't put a lid on this?" Chief McManus went on to say that a colleague down in Bridgeport had suggested that he consider establishing a Chapter of "PAL" (the Police Athletic League) here in Sherburne. "Many of the larger towns in Connecticut have them, but we never have," he added. "I've heard of PAL," Fr. Tom volunteered. "Wasn't it founded by an old Mick down in New York City years ago?" "Yeah," McManus answered, "Captain John Sweeney was one of the NYPD's finest - and he really made a difference back in 1910. Trouble is, you have to have a high degree of community involvement to make it work, and this town is pretty down in the dumps. The police have to sponsor it and provide some volunteers, but without a lot of volunteers, it just doesn't work. The schools have to get into it, too, because you need ball fields, classrooms, and playgrounds; the churches have to get into it, because they have meeting places and volunteers; business has to get into it because you need money! "Well, Captain, you know we don't have a lot of spare money at St. Pat's - unless you've found a way to squeeze money out of stone walls - but I will make a few suggestions. The Bishop has just allowed us to hire a Brother to work at the School and with my older boys. He did a lot of youth work down in Bridgeport - and that's getting to be a pretty rough town. He stepped on some toes, but I think he's great for Sherburne. If you need a point man to help get things off the ground, I guess I could lend you Brother John part-time. As far as volunteers go, we have a pretty good list of men in the parish who've said they want to help - and the women's groups will always lend a hand. I'd open the list to you for this project. Naturally, the Church Hall would be available for meetings and, perhaps, some youth activities. When it comes to money, I definitely suggest that you try to get John Wilson, the Rector of Holy Trinity Church, to serve on the Board of Directors. He's a good head. Besides, the directors of our two mills go there - and, as usual, the Episcopalians have the inside track on other money in the area. When the Department has decided if it wants to sponsor a PAL Chapter, just let me know and tell me how I can help. "You've already made my day, Father," the Captain responded warmly. "I think you can expect to hear from me in the near future. Oh, by the way," he asked, "are you ready to take another homeless gang off the streets?" Fr. Tom laughed hysterically as he made ready to leave. "Oh, Father, the Captain continued, "send Shane around, will you? Andy introduced him to me briefly after Mass on Sunday, but I'd like to shake his hand and invite him over to dinner." Fr. Tom nodded and grinned as he departed. (To Be Continued)