I was
eleven years old when I learned a secret that continues to shape my life and
challenge me.
Back in 1961, I was in
Sister Clareen’s sixth grade class at Our Lady of Sorrows School. It was almost
dismissal time one day when Sister reached into her big wooden desk and pulled
out an object about as long as a twelve-inch ruler, but much thicker.
Sister Clareen held up the
thing. Its white wrapper said “World’s Finest Chocolate.” Then she began
walking up and down the rows of desks, gliding like she always did, as if she
were on ball bearings, her long black habit floating behind her. While she
walked, she waved the thing in front of each kid’s nose.
