If I Could Be Like Mike

Those of you that have read some of the earlier posts know that I was once a novice with a religious order. As a novice, you are pretty low on the hierarchical totem pole of a religious community. We had to live an extremely austere lifestyle - we didn't even have cable television!

At that time, I was a huge fan of professional wrestling. Call it one of my vices. I liked professional wrestling for what it was - campy entertainment. The only way for me to see any wrestling was on cable TV. Not having cable television in the novitiate made it impossible for me to keep up on the storylines of the World Wrestling Federation and the National Wrestling Alliance.

One night during dinner, I mentioned to one of the senior members of the community that I missed the opportunity to watch wrestling. About a week later, he approached me and said he wanted to discuss something with me after dinner. I knocked on his door and he invited me into his living area. He had two recliners in his room - both facing the TV. He sat in the bigger one and invited me to sit down in the other chair. When I sat down, he turned on the television and, lo and behold, there were the WWF gladiators battling in the squared circle! He even gave up watching some of his favorite shows. This was a very friendly gesture on the part of Father Michael.

Every Monday night, we would meet at the same time to watch wrestling. We would talk about all sorts of things during the commercials. Eventually, we would talk about all sorts of things and watching the wrestling became a secondary activity. It got to the point where having the television on disrupted our weekly visits.

Father Michael was somewhat of a lonely soul. Due to his age and declining physical health, he could no longer serve as a parish pastor (which he loved to do). He would visit area nursing homes at the same time each week to say Mass for "the ladies" - the term he used for his nursing home congregations.

I maintained a close friendship with Father Mike for several years after I left religious life. He continued to serve "the ladies" and would occasionally help out when a parish priest went on vacation. On one of his journeys to help a parish on a weekend when their pastor was gone, Father Michael lost control of his car and crashed. He died instantly. Though it was less than two miles, the drive from my home to his funeral seemed to last forever.

Several days after the funeral, the leader of the religious community asked me to stop by. He led me to Father Michael's living quarters. Knowing that Father Michael and I were close, the superior told me that I could have any one item remaining in Father Michael's room. I took a framed print of the famous scene where a young Franciscan is painting a portrait of a Cardinal. The Cardinal is asleep in a chair. The young friar is struggling to paint a portrait of a Cardinal full of vitality. That painting was right above the television set in Father Michael's room. I spent hours looking at it while visiting with Father Michael. It now hangs in my house in a prominent space. I look at it every day and think of Father Michael.