St. Gabriels

There are a number of us in this blog circle that attended St Gabriels for elementary school. When I attended the teachers were all nuns. They commanded respect by their habits and discipline. Looking back, I admire how they liked this Country and it's institutions. We were warned about communism, fascisim and nazism; they were all believers in democracy - even though their personal lives were in a commune. From time-to-time I remember some of the lessons that they taught, particularly aboout personal integrity, honesty, truthfulness and bravery. They clarified questions about religion very well for my adolescent mind and set the stage for my adult mind. I remember distinctly some of the instruction about Washington, Jefferson, Wilson, Pierre Marquette, Columbus and Nathan Hale. (Some of this was absorbed at the time when I read a great deal of comic books: Superman, Batman, The Green Lantern, Plasticman, The Torch and many others. Most of the books were suppplied to me by Danny Christman. His mother had a liver disease and died. Shortly after that he and his father moved away, I never saw him again.) Sister William taught music and chior and I was put into the chior to sing in Church. My position was next next to Robert Letters, another sopranno. This chior sand so well that a benifactor gave Sister $200 for music books and to take us all on a picnic. We went to Belle Isle. One day, while we were singing in Church, she asked Robert to not sing, then she told him to sing and asked me not to sing, she alternated this for a few times, and after that episode I was no longer invited to the chior practices. From Sister William I learned Gregorian Chant, both to sing and to write. The Gregorian Chant has been invaluable to me at every stage of my life. I was a rule follower and if Sister said to do something, I did it. Unlike me, Donald Harms never did what he was told to do. He infuriated some of the nuns, got more than his share of rulers on the palm of his hand or on the knuckles. I recall he was once hung up on a coat hanger in the cloakroom and switched on his bare legs. He cried and yelled but did not change his behavior. At the time, I thought it curious that he did not modify his behavior to keep from being hit. I did not feel sorry for him. He did not come back the following year.