And a ****** One, At That.I was baptized Catholic in a fast food production line dunk-n-go. My father is from Ireland, and he promised his mother on her deathbed that I would be raised Catholic to the best of his ability.
And by best of his ability he meant, he would drag me to Easter mass every year when he saw me.
There was a time when I was younger, about 10, that I wanted to be close to him because I hardly knew him, so I went to Friday and Sunday mass every week. I longed to be a daddy's girl, so I sucked it up and went, even though I have ADD and bad knees.
I don't understand Catholicism in the slightest, but there's something about it I can't erase from myself. It's so interesting and beautiful, and looking back, I wish I had continued on my own. I wish I had gone for communion and confirmation. I wish I could have learned about it while I still had the time to commit myself to religion.
I don't want to say I'm a Catholic because I don't know anything about it, but at the same time I'm glad I was baptized as one.