Misunderstood

Graduation season is upon us! Let's take a look back...

This photo is from my 8th grade graduation and my brother's kindergarten graduation. Michael looks cute as a freakin' button, and Marilyn looks mad as all get-out. Why so glum? Because those bastards at Immaculate Heart bestowed upon me the "Most Christian Spirit" award...in front of the whole class, parents, siblings, family friends.

Oh. No. You. Didn't!!!

I was nothing short of humiliated. I remember blinking back hot tears as I walked to the stage to collect the certificate. How dare they?!

Christian Spirit? Granted, I didn't tease or ridicule my classmates. However, that is more likely attributed to a paralyzing case of introversion than a kind heart.

Christian Spirit? What a terrible reputation with which to enter high school. Would I ever live this down? Why, oh why, could Sister Theis and company not see me for the true rebel I was?

Let me state my case. (I think the statute of limitations is up, but please Mom, stop reading now.) It's true what they say about Catholic schoolgirls. My friends and I would...

• Sneak out of the house and through the back alleys of Ashland to Uni-Mart to buy candy. It now fascinates me that the clerk wouldn't blink an eye at a bunch of 14-year-olds rolling into a convenience store at 1am. But candy sounds pretty innocent, huh? Nuh-uh! I recall a pixie-stix snorting incident at the little league filed.
• Dip into my dad's supply of fish oil supplements (a gateway drug if ever there was one) and see who could take the most without gagging.
• Cut wire hangers into strips, bend them into cute heart shapes, heat them on the stovetop and  BRAND ourselves. I think this was a popular tattoo alternative in the mid 90s. Thankfully, the scars have faded.
• Maybe crack open a brew from my dad's beer-filled basement fridge. He didn't drink much, so the beer was really old. So old that the Yuengling containers were still shaped like soup cans. Hence, my long-standing affinity for Campbell's chicken noodle.
• Play hot potato with a water-filled condom someone got from her older, cooler sister who attended Woodstock '94. Disturbing? Yes. But, For the Love of Marilyn, thank goodness that's all we knew to do with a condom.
• Discuss make-out techniques ad nauseum and pray to someday have the opportunity to fine-tune these techniques on a real human boy. "Lord, please do not let his braces slice open my lip." (Hmm, does that type of prayer contribute towards "Most Christian" status?)
• Convince a priest during a Confirmation retreat that a classmate's nickname was Schlong. "Yes, Schlong? You had a question about preparing to receive the Holy Spirit?"
• [Sidebar: God bless the parents of junior high students. May I one day be lucky enough to be blissfully unaware of my children's extracirricular activities... or perhaps not live in a ghetto.]

That's how Marilyn rolled back in the day! Business 9 to 5; Fun 5 to 9. Only one thing has changed.

Back then I wanted Marilyn to be Mo. Now I'm oh-so-proud that I've managed to carry off this split-personality charade so successfully. Now I'm oh-so-grateful that Marilyn and Mo have managed to live separate lives, each successful in her own way. Maybe there is a little Christian Spirit lurking in me, watching over me, after all. That's not someting I'm going to waste any more tears about.