A Trace of Saint Francis

By Saul Moriarty

While growing up in Irish Catholic Boston in the 1960's, the Malone children struggle to evade the overwhelming threats in their neighborhood. They are encouraged when Saint Francis arrives from a faraway place, inserting himself into their family, and beginning the process of routing the community of the priests and other abusers; while re-establishing a sense of hope, spirituality, and Christianity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Feb 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781483463094

Book preview

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1

Arrival

As two angry teenagers smashed the heavy punching bag hanging from the ceiling of a musty old yellow barn in the neighborhood of West Roxbury, they failed to notice the small boy as he crawled up from under the floorboards. Francis peeked over at them and then quietly crept out of the barn and into the bright sunlit adjacent field. He watched as the ship accelerated up over the field and then vanished into the heavens over the Bellevue Hill water tower. The eight-year-old warrior walked by the small pond set off to the left and then exited the field. He crossed Corey Street with caution, walked up Fairview Avenue and stopped in front of a sizeable, conservative, red, brick house. The house was Renaissance in appearance: symmetrical, geometric, and solid. Strong breezes and gales were unable to permeate or rattle this structure. A grayish-black concrete walk led up to the front of the house, which was graced by a pair of faux white pillars. Two overflowing crabapple trees covered the front lawn. Across the street, a towering, thick maple tree skittered and flowed in the breeze, blessing the scene.

Francis avoided the front entrance and bolted up the asphalt driveway looping around behind the home. He was eager to meet his new family. He leaped clear over the five-foot-high chain link fence which enclosed the backyard, slid across the slate patio, and peered into the window above the bottled-milk delivery receptacle. They were there; seated at the oval kitchen table and having dinner, all except Dr. Malone. Without hesitating, Francis opened the back door, walked through the narrow, yellow hallway, past the always overflowing trash receptacle, and entered the kitchen. The boy sat down quietly at the table alongside five other young children. Everything seemed to be in order as time continued to pass naturally. His presence was expected, but also his absence had been noted.

Your fishcakes are getting cold, announced Mrs. Malone. None of your brothers will be excused until you eat all of your dinner. And did you remember that you have a very important appointment tomorrow morning with the ophthalmologist? That left eye is an embarrassment and needs to be fixed! Let’s hope Dr. Clancy is in a magnanimous mood.

Mrs. Malone was uncomfortable with asymmetry. She was a specialist of sorts, having been taught from a young age that one of her roles was to eliminate any and all irregularities and perceived improprieties from her surroundings. This could include a dusty table, an untucked shirt, a wandering eye, or an expressed emotion. Any issue pertaining to sex or money was particularly off limits and would be immediately squelched. Family matters were to be kept private, and it was the responsibility of the women in the family to keep things neat, clean, and repressed. This was not a role that Mrs. Malone sought out, but as the only daughter, it was one that she had been unable to refuse. She had become highly skilled at protecting her family’s privacy and reputation and was able to whitewash almost any matter; and she effectively used these skills to create the appearance that everything was perfect in the Malone home.

Francis’s eye did turn to the left but this apparent flaw was actually a highly useful adaptation. The trait allowed him to comprehensively and fluidly scan his surroundings while engaged in combat or performing a complex acrobatic maneuver. It also helped him to fly safely. Mrs. Malone was worried that people in the neighborhood might have noticed the turning of her son’s eye, and she felt that the trait reflected negatively on the family. She was also slightly concerned that the boy would not be able to see properly. Mrs. Malone hoped to eliminate the problem quickly, and the appointment had been arranged to have Francis seen by a prominent local ophthalmologist.

The four boys seated at the kitchen table immediately welcomed and began teasing Francis as he sat and started munching on the fish cakes. They became a bit somber however, when Mrs. Malone spoke about going to the ophthalmologist. The boys had learned not to trust any authority figure or expert, including their parents. A trip to the doctor was something about which to be worried. There was no guarantee that it would be helpful, and they all readily perceived that there was nothing wrong with Francis’s vision. Judith, the one girl seated at the table, eyed Francis suspiciously and smiled a bit as Mrs. Malone talked about the eye doctor.

Matthew, the oldest boy possessed an exquisitely shy and fearful temperament and had difficulty making any sustained eye contact with others, including Francis. Matthew conveyed the sense that he was waiting for some sort of disaster to ensue, possibly a small plane crash or a rare, tiny New England tornado. Matthew believed that bad things were likely to occur at all times, even while eating dinner at his family’s home. Unfortunately, his childhood experiences had completely reinforced the boy’s sense that life was all about fear and avoidance. Matthew bound his fear and anxiety in peculiar and disturbing ways. At times he would abruptly shut down and stop responding to his environment, as if his emotional power supply had been overwhelmed and shorted out. Minutes, hours, or even days later, the boy would suddenly reawaken, apparently unaware of his break with reality. Matthew also coped by talking to himself, often repeating simple phrases of reassurance. It will be clear at daybreak, was one of his mantras. No one cares enough about you to bother with you, was another phrase that Matthew paradoxically found to be very calming.

Matthew seemed to have internalized his mother’s need for symmetry. He would spend hours washing his hands, combing his hair, and adjusting his clothes. When speaking, he would attempt to modulate his voice to a middle range, an impossible and maddening task. At times, he would measure out each step as he walked, doling out an allotted number of inches for each movement forward. Heterogeneity or asymmetry in the food that he or others were eating made the boy particularly uncomfortable. There was something primitive and sexual about food that completely overwhelmed the boy’s defenses. Francis had partially mashed up his fishcakes and distributed them about his plate, adjacent to a diffuse glob of ketchup, and this disarray of food had provoked a tightening in Matthew’s abdomen. Francis sensed the boy’s distress and quickly finished the meal, momentarily lessening Matthew’s anxiety. Despite his fearfulness, Matthew possessed a sense of temerity and was highly protective of his brothers. To the degree that it was possible, he absorbed threats to their welfare at his own expense. He hoped and prayed constantly that their experiences would be profoundly different and more benign than his own, and this spurred him to act on their behalf, whenever possible.

John, the second-oldest boy, appeared on the surface to be an oppositional and defiant individual. He was a physically aggressive, hyperactive, and hypervigilant soul. He was distrustful of all adults, and he was never surprised by an inappropriate behavior or remark from a coach, teacher, parent, priest, scoutmaster, neighbor, physician, relative, bus driver, or any other category of adult. Dr. and Mrs. Malone viewed John as undisciplined, unmanageable, and wild; but they had minimal understanding of the challenges that the boy faced or of the responsibility that he bore. The two were oblivious of the boy’s highly developed interpersonal abilities. John was selfless and highly protective of his family and friends. He was politically adept and spent much time in the neighborhood trying to consolidate alliances and connections within the hierarchy of boys and men who ruled the warren of West Roxbury. He possessed a keen understanding of the rules of engagement and the principles of territoriality that governed the neighborhoods in Irish Catholic Boston. He vigorously defended the neighborhood hierarchy, knowing that this might help to protect his brothers from harm. Younger boys in the neighborhood, for example, were expected to treat older boys and men in the neighborhood with a sense of deference and respect; in exchange, they received physical protection and a sense of place in the neighborhood.

John stared across the oval table at Francis and reminded him not to make direct eye contact for more than a few seconds. You need to learn some respect little brother! he warned Francis, but his behavior was pure posturing, and he posed little threat to Francis. John would, however, do anything to protect Francis or any of his brothers. This included deploying fisticuffs or modified weapons such as bats to send a message and, when necessary, calling on the senior males within the system to assist him. John had fully embraced the task of physically and politically protecting his brothers in the neighborhood of Irish Catholic West Roxbury. Given the immensity of the threats that they all faced, this was a huge burden. John often felt overwhelmed by his responsibilities, but he conveyed a sense of great toughness and humor to his brothers, and never any indication of fear or weakness. Dr. and Mrs. Malone completely misunderstood their son. They viewed him as having an evolving sociopathic temperament, so they provided him with abundant criticism and emotional aloofness, but never did they try to understand the reasons for the boy’s apparent anger and tension.

Martin the third boy was pleasant, cheerful, and entirely positive. The boy was loaded with good karma, and had never once been intentionally unkind to others. Given the harshness of the environment that he faced, the boy showed a sweet personality that could only be genetic. Unfortunately, Martin pretended that everything was fine, even when that was obviously not the case. This was how he coped. Martin was almost entirely incapable of asking others for help. When he encountered adversity, he would simply try to move forward while denying that there was a problem. The boy essentially had no ability to protect himself from predators, and as a result he was at great risk of being emotionally and physically injured in West Roxbury. John and Matthew fended off many threats for their younger brother, but there was only so much that could be done to protect him. If Martin had lived in a safe neighborhood, his positive attitude would have served him well and his life might have been perfect, but he lived in a hellish, dangerous environment. The boy’s prognosis was guarded at best. Martin embraced the presence of Francis at the oval table with love, respect, and a welcoming eye.

All of the Malone children had adult personalities, a state spawned by trauma and neglect. Luke, the youngest boy, was no exception, and he had already been deeply affected at the age of only five years. On the surface, he appeared to be inept, lost, and incompetent. This was however, protective camouflage, meant to deflect attention away from him. Luke was a pretender, hiding his skills and strengths from the world. The boy was graced with an underlying sense of sardonic humor, as well as a keen understanding of people. Luke was the most handsome of the Malone boys and was already showing signs of being lanky, muscular, and angular. He was naturally athletic and capable of feats that his brothers were unable to attempt. At the age of four, Luke first pitched a baseball to John, stunning his older brother. The velocity of that first pitch nearly broke John’s thinly gloved hand. Luke remained quiet around adults, but he joked and grumbled like an old man with his brothers. He commented quietly under his breath to Francis prompting Mrs. Malone to intervene.

Keep your opinions to yourself if you’re not willing to share them with the whole table! she chided.

Luke was not willing to share his opinions with his mother, or any other adult for that matter, and he instantly reverted to a sullen and silent state. But when Mrs. Malone again alluded to Dr. Clancy, Luke crossed his eyes and made guttural noises, drawing a chuckle out of Francis.

Judith, the solitary girl in the family, was Mrs. Malone’s prodigy. Judith’s ambitious and perfect bedroom was located in the front section of the Malone house, close to the parents and as far from the boys as physically possible. Mrs. Malone worshiped and loved her daughter in a primitive, narcissistic way. Despite being a middle child, Judith was accorded the special status usually reserved for the eldest. She seemed to despise her brothers and would often pretend that she was the only legitimate Malone child. The boys tried to include her in their play, but she showed nothing but disdain for them. The boys were often sharply disciplined for teasing their sister, which at times meant simply glancing at her sideways. Unlike her brothers, Judith was allowed to skip dinner or to read at the oval table when she chose to attend. Upon the girl’s request, Mrs. Malone would prepare special individualized meals. Mrs. Malone viewed her daughter as a genius, and her boys as average. She found Judith to be calming, and the boys irritating. Judith seemed self-sufficient, while the boys seemed dependent. The Malone boys all attended the local parochial school, while Judith attended a magnet school in downtown Boston. Generally, she could do no wrong. Dr. Malone had long given up defending his sons against his daughter, as Mrs. Malone would have none of it.

Judith spent the majority of her time alone or with her mother, while the boys congregated amongst themselves. She actually felt very anxious, guilty, isolated, and lonely as a result of her special status. She craved a closer relationship with her brothers but maintained her distance because she did not want to upset her mother. The girl faced a dilemma, which was tearing her apart and could not be readily solved. As small bits of time passed, she seemed to be aging quickly. As she sat at the oval table, Judith observed and stared at Francis as if he were a bug to be studied and dissected. She appeared disdainful and cold, but what no one realized is that such behaviors made the young girl feel empty and mean to the core of her soul.

Francis learned some important rules as he shared his first meal with the Malones. One should never say anything negative about one’s family. Speak primarily when spoken to by an adult. Do not interrupt a conversation that is in progress until there is a clear break in the dialogue. Make sure your plate is completely clean before leaving the table. Do not leave the table without excusing yourself. Avoid talking about feelings. One should not complain about an injury or illness unless it is grave; conversely if the condition is serious, you will receive extra attention until it resolves. Do not lie to an adult. Do not swear. Do not discuss sex or pregnancy. Be cautious about mentioning the country of Ireland; doing so will confer no advantage and might elicit a prejudicial reaction. Do not complain about a nun or a priest unless they are in an active state of dementia. Conversely, poking fun at a demented nun or priest is allowed. Do not discuss the family’s past. Money and financial issues should never be mentioned out in the community. Education is the key to advancement. Everyone has one chore to do after dinner. There will be no television on school nights. Never tease your sister. The father of the family will be informed of any disciplinary issues when he returns home from work, and he is invited to set a negative tone by chastising the offenders. Boys generally should spend as much time outside, and out of the way, as possible.

These were a few of the basic rules for children, and they were shared by homes throughout the neighborhoods in West Roxbury and Boston in general. The rules maintained homogeneity throughout the city. They minimized the importance of children and enhanced the dominance of adults, particularly abusive adults. The rules prevented families from openly discussing difficult issues and conflicts. They made it unwise for children to speak up about their concerns. Feelings, pain, sexual questions, weaknesses, religion, money, and power: all of these topics were to be avoided. This structure provided fertile ground for the sexual and non-sexual abusers who prospered in the city of Boston in the 1950’s and 1960’s.

Francis politely nibbled on his desert, a dry chocolate cupcake with milky, sugary vanilla frosting. The others waited politely as he finished his desert. Sweets ruled in the Malone house and generally trumped all other forms of pleasure. That was another rule.

After desert, the children were expected to complete their assigned kitchen chore for that week. This was a very important ritual for Mrs. Malone. She viewed herself as having spent her entire life caring for others. The chores and responsibilities, in her heavy view, never ceased. In order to assuage her chronic sense of being overworked and underappreciated, she rigidly required that the boys clean the kitchen every single night.

Francis had been assigned the chore of putting the dishes and pots in the dishwasher. As he did so, he dripped water all over the vinyl floor and was duly chastised by Mrs. Malone. Concentrate on what you’re doing or I’ll have to notify your father! she threatened the boy.

Dr. Malone had not yet arrived home from work, but even when present he would not assist with the chores and would most often obstruct the process with critiques and commentary. The other assigned chores included clearing the table, scraping and rinsing the dishes, emptying the dishwasher, sweeping the floor, and putting out the trash. Mrs. Malone supervised the entire process and would often personally take out the trash, a symbolic ending of the routine.

Judith Malone would usually sit and read quietly throughout, observing the scene with a look of apparent disdain and boredom. She was not assigned a chore. Whenever the boys protested this obvious inequity, Mrs. Malone reminded them that Judith’s chore was to put up with her brothers. Ironically, Judith would have enjoyed helping her brothers with the chores, and she suspected that rinsing dishes might be a calming task for her. Instead of helping however, she sat by herself emotionally split off, while reading a historical novel.

As a child, Mrs. Malone had been responsible for cleaning the entire kitchen after meals. Her one younger brother would never help, and instead he would sit with their father and chat about school or sports, while the young girl worked. Mrs. Malone’s mother would often leave the kitchen, tired out by her many years of cleaning for her husband. At these times, the young version of Mrs. Malone would feel abandoned, alone, and devalued. She carried this resentment throughout her life, and it motivated her to excuse her daughter from the daily routine. Dr. Malone’s unwillingness to help perpetuated her underlying sense of anger and made it unlikely she would ever free her boys from these chores, at least for the duration of their time in the home on Fairview Avenue. Because of her resentment however, she failed to appreciate the fact that the boys enjoyed the routine and liked working together. Mrs. Malone was blunted by her experiences and trapped in the past. She lacked the flexibility to see that similar circumstances contain the potential for markedly different emotional reactions and symbolic experiences.

At 6:55 PM, Dr. Malone arrived home from a long and well-respected day. The massive front door to the Malone home swung open dramatically as he entered the home with a large sigh. Everyone stayed clear of the man as they waited for him to take a couple of long breaths. His arrival was not unlike that of a swimmer resurfacing after a dive to the bottom of a murky bay. As usual, his mood was tense and irritable.

Mrs. Malone had pre-selected Francis as the disciplinary focus for the day, and she immediately started the ritual. Francis decided to spill water all over the kitchen floor tonight, she chimed.

You need to do what your mother asks! screamed the doctor. The boys stiffened as their father yelled, while Judith watched with apparent amusement.

Francis was pleased at the effectiveness of the powerful hypnagogic procedure and was thinking that the family had been well prepared. After all, he had arrived by ship just a short time ago, but Dr. Malone yelled at him without hesitation, treating the boy exactly as he would his other sons. John grumbled under his breath and Matthew began to cough nervously in an attempt to distract the doctor, and it was effective.

Calm down! he barked at the two older boys as he moved away from Francis and sat with great fanfare at the oval kitchen table. Mrs. Malone retrieved the doctor’s dinner from the oven: fishcakes, green beans, and a baked potato. The doctor ate slowly, quietly, and meticulously. Rarely did he fail to criticize the meal. This potato has a root in it! he complained.

Dr. Malone was a well-liked, reputable surgeon at a large Catholic hospital in Brighton. After medical school, his father had informed him that this particular hospital was the proper place for him to seek employment, and Dr. Malone had complied with the request. It had always been futile to resist his father’s wishes. Most of the prominent Catholics in the archdiocese of Boston received their care at this institution, although some would clandestinely visit the large Harvard teaching hospitals in downtown Boston for second opinions and secretive operations. Dr. Malone had never been sued, and he seemed to have endless time for his patients. Unfortunately, by the time he arrived home, he was entirely exhausted and bitter. He found the hospital to be a repressive place and the job to be boring. He actually had little interest in operating on people, but his father had also been quite insistent about his son becoming a surgeon. Dr. Malone had operated on the Mayor of Boston, the Cardinal of the Archdiocese of Boston, and various members of the Kennedy family, but he derived little satisfaction from his career.

Mrs. Malone sat with her husband as he reviewed his day. The higher-level hospital administrators most reminded Dr. Malone of his father, and it was on them that he deposited much venom. He was also quite uncomfortable with the obstetricians noting that, unlike real surgeons, they were difficult to reach in the dark of the night and unreliable in critical situations. He suggested that they would blanche during a true emergency. Even their surgical knots were of poor quality. The true underlying issue however, was that Dr. Malone was uncomfortable with the whole birthing process.

Dr. Malone was been raised in a very inhibited home where there had never been any discussion of sex, birth, or feelings; the perfect combination of poor preparation for entry into a birthing suite. He dreaded the phone calls to assist a delivery that was deteriorating. This most often involved an emergent request from the obstetrician to assist with a young mother who was having refractory bleeding during the birth process. The combination of smells, body fluids, and human anguish; coupled with the pressure to stop the bleeding and save the mother and baby’s lives was almost intolerable for Dr. Malone. The doctor managed to split off the feelings of shame, disgust, anger, incompetence, and joy that were triggered by attending a delivery, and this allowed him to perform his job as a surgeon. After the process was done however, he was almost always left with a bland irritable uncomfortable emotional residue and a sour stomach.

Dr. Malone tried to discuss his feelings with his wife, but he did so in a ranting fashion, and Mrs. Malone would invariably roll her eyes and shut down. She had grown up in a similarly stern and inhibited household. She had no empathic ability to support her husband and believed that he should consider himself fortunate to have been spared the personal pain of the birthing process. As the two sat together and talked, there was no connection. Both felt dissatisfied, alone, misunderstood, and taken for granted. They had forgotten the way around the distance.

In the neighborhood of West Roxbury, Dr. Malone was considered a great success and role model, and he was affectionately referred to as the Doctaah. He was an only child in a politically prominent Irish Catholic family. His father was rumored to have been an adversary and then eventual friend of James Michael Curley, the once infamous and powerful mayor of Boston. As a boy, Dr. Malone lived in an average section in West Roxbury, but the family summered on Cape Cod and gradually built up their wealth and influence thanks to the steady hand of his father. Dr. Malone had attended Boston Latin School and Holy Cross College and eventually trained as a surgeon at an elite residency program in Boston’s Chinatown section. Dr. Malone married a beautiful woman from a comparable Irish Catholic family within his neighborhood. His father