[fatnotlazy]

I learned Latin from my brother — when he was an altar boy, Masses were still said in Latin. He had to practice all the prayers and responses, and just from listening to him go through them over and over again, I picked up the language. It may be a “dead” language, but it is the basis for a number of languages. I know it helped me learn French and Italian...well, at least enough to be able to ask where the nearest lavatory is. :)

[Sacajaweau]

My brother was an altar boy. I was sick that I couldn't be one since I played baseball, climbed on roofs, picked worms, fished, delivered newspapers and did wheelies....just like he taught me.

So, at about age 10, I decided to make my move. The church was empty. I knelt at the communion rail. Then my desires took over. I climbed the rail and knelt down and bowed my head. I grabbed the bells and rang them three times...Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa. I jumped back to the people side of the rail, genuflected and blessed myself with Holy Water and left the church...with a smile on my face.

How God must have laughed that day!!