Some more Negative
Aspects of Novitiate life

Often I get brain freeze when I try to recall my novitiate days with the Silesian Society (1960-61).  I remember the smells, all kinds of smells; body odor, sweat, candles, the soft oak trees, the smoky burn pile, and the food.  They brought up the food in a truck from DBC and I loved KP because we got to actually open those containers….wow.

There were six of us from the western province, in fact we were the last class from Richmond, since Richmond was becoming a high school and the seminary was moving to Watsonville where the nuns made real food instead of bologna steak.  Our catechist called us the seven joys of Mary, but when John Depees left, we suddenly became the six joys of Mary. Later we were joined by Ken Roberts and again became seven joys.  Four of us were to be clerics and two were coadjutors, Remo and “Borgie”.  We all made it through novitiate to take our vows.

When we first came to Newton, our group decided to leave Richmond and travel by train south, stopping at Gilroy, Watsonville and then LA.  We then went to Phoenix and on up to Chicago.  It was mostly Larry Mullaly’s idea. From chi-town we took the NY central to the big apple and was met by bro. Joe Traina at the depot and driven to Newton.  That was when it all began.

We were a happy and congenial bunch, the seven of us: Larry Mullaly, Richard Wanner, Remo Scagliotti, Pat Borrage, Ken Roberts, myself and Pat Saavadra.  But we were soon to find ourselves in the middle of a whole year racked by tons of prayer, hard kneelers, statues, isolation, silence and only weekly showers.  And there were the classes, Italian, classic Greek, Latin, tons of religion, more religion than can be absorbed in a lifetime.  Maybe I just got too much religion.  I don’t know but we each probably considered such suffering as eventually having an end so from that respect it became tolerable.

But when it comes to memories of this sometimes awful place I mostly remember the sweat, cassock sweat, Gym sweat, classroom sweat, locker room sweat and foot sweat and not a lot of showers.  We sweated so much that summer, and the only signs of relief came from the kids’ Camp Don Bosco on the hill and the soft strains of Mitch Miller and “This Old Man” and other assorted melodies.

I remember Vestition (ves-TI-shun), the time we got our cassocks, and just how bad the coadjutor novices felt.  Our first cassocks were designed to have a thousand buttons or maybe more, another form of “mortification” I suppose.

I remember the prayer and the hard kneelers, enough to break your knee or develop serious camel knee, and we longed for those padded DBC kneelers down the hill, what soft-asses they were down there—what an easy life those brothers had, so spoiled, so entitled, watching TV and reading regular library books.  And I remember the somber long retreats that lasted days and days and days without end.  The final retreat was a ten day-er job just before we took our first vows.  What an ordeal!  “Poverty, chastity, and obedience for three years unto God.”  I was sure glad when it was over.

Years later my wife told me once that her ex went to a Jesuit university and was considering joining the order.  His adviser said he would never make it through Jesuit novitiate because he did not have the lumina, whatever the hell that was supposed to be.  All I can say is that after a 10 day retreat I was seeing Jesus just about everywhere I looked.

And I remember well the sports activities.  One of the first competitions we had as novices was a field day at which all of us competed in various track and field events.  The going away favorites were some of the bigger and stronger guys from West Haverstraw like Nebel, Xifo or Peluse, and some of the former sons of Mary like Ken Roberts who was built like a gorilla.  I myself was not an exceptional athlete but I managed to enter five events even though our novice assistant (Bro. Dominic) said that three events should probably be the limit.  I entered five events anyway and managed to squeeze out two second places and three third places which gave me a score that was better than the really good athletes.  Bro Dominic furiously challenged my score and said that I should be disqualified and that only three of the events could be counted.  He was overruled by some of the other DBC college coaches who said that there was no restriction anywhere on the number of events a novice could enter.  I won the award for most points but I felt that I didn’t disserve it.

I remember many other details too but not so well and they kind of come and go; Greek Class with the tyrant, Fr. Juliani, the Novice Master, Fr. Geee-oooo-viiiii-nnnnni-nnni and his weekly lectures on Goodness, “Generooouuusity”, “Moooouuurtification”, Eisenhower’s farewell address to the nation and tromping down to the college in 4 feet of snow to hear Kennedy give his inaugural address.  The first American into space –Alan “Seperd” as the Novice Master used to say. Such times.  Such memories.  But it all goes on a long list I mentally keep of things I would never do again and that would never happen again.