Seventeen Minus Two

By Virginia Phlieger-Kroos

Many people ask why a 14 year old child would enter a convent and even more ask why she would leave. In Seventeen Minus Two I answer these questions. This book relates not only life in this particular convent in the 50s and 60s but the difficulty of the author to reenter a world she was totally unprepared to meet. Short stories of several of her classmates are imbedded in the book. Two of them have died; one from natural causes, one was murdered. The book tells of a child who experienced abuse and her struggle to overcome her feelings of inferiority as well as a lifelong battle with depression. All her life her main desire was to work within and serve the Church. She continually came up against the authority figures in the Church who disregarded her as a person and devalued what she had to offer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469145990

Virginia Phlieger-Kroos

Ginger Kroos was raised in a small town the youngest of seven children. She grew up believing she was dumb and stupid. At age 14 she attended a Dominican Prep School and two years later entered the convent of the Dominican Sisters. After seven years she left the convent in anger and frustration. As if in a kind of free fall she began to search for her identity grasping at anything to discover who she was and what purpose she had for living. Years of depression shadowed her on her quest to discover a place for herself in the world and in the church she desperately wanted to serve.

Book preview

Copyright © 2012 by Virginia Phlieger-Kroos, OPA.

ISBN:          Softcover                                 978-1-4691-4598-3

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4691-4599-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Names and places have been changed to protect the privacy of all individuals. The events and situations are true.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

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Intended Readers

This book is intended to be read by anyone interested in convent life of a group of young women in the 1950’s and ‘60’s. Why they entered the convent and why they left or why they stayed as well as their lives after they left. The convent is a world of mystery different from the everyday lives of most people. The book tells about the struggle of one woman to work in the Catholic Church and explains many changes in the Church after Vatican II.

I hope the reader gains a better understanding of the changes of Vatican II particularly of the RCIA (The Rite of Christian initiation of Adults).

I hope the reader will follow the life of one woman who has struggled to become someone and to be recognized as important and who has a right to exist.

For anyone who grows up with an inferiority complex and undetected learning disabilities, this author was nearly illiterate at age 14 and spelling was beyond her yet she went on to achieve a master’s degree from a noted university.

Table of Contents

Preface

The Story Begins or Chapter 1

The Horror Story or Chapter 2

Putting the Sadness Behind Us or Chapter 3

Those with Whom You Would Not Associate or Chapter 4

Friends Not Found or Chapter 5

You will be a House Sister or Chapter 6

The Sacristans or Chapter 7

Leader of the Pack or Chapter 8

Another World or Chapter 9

Right Choices or Chapter 10

Who is Virginia Phlieger? or Chapter 11

In Search of Virginia Phlieger or Chapter 12

Alice’s Story or Chapter 13

How to Meet a Man or Chapter 14

Wedding Bells or Chapter 15

Traditions Continued and Traditions Remembered or Chapter 16

The Agony of Living or Chapter 17

My Name is Ginger or Chapter 18

A New Age or Chapter 19

A Second Chance or Chapter 20

Manila or Chapter 21

Eight Good Years or Chapter 22

God’s Beloved Daughter or Chapter 23

This book is dedicated to my friend, Marlys Hankins,

who encouraged me to write it.

Also

To my classmates who have allowed me to write their stories,

especially Ida, my friend,

whose advice and help in proofreading has been invaluable.

Preface

It has been 50 years since 17 young girls stood in a semi-circle around the altar in the chapel of the Dominican Sisters of Great Bend, Kansas and accepted the white habit of the Dominican Order. We had gathered for a reunion on the fourth floor of the convent. We remembered our past and shared the stories of our lives. We recalled the 50 years earlier how we had all stood in our simple white bridal gowns with their thin white veils. We wore white shoes and each carried a green palm. We were brides of Christ. Each of our habits was folded with the cape and scapular and veil and handed to each of us. We processed out of the chapel to change into this beautiful Dominican habit which we had all come to love. We had each been allowed to ask one of the sisters to come and help us change. I had asked my blood sister, Sister Mary Lorrain. We had all let our hair grow as long as we could because today we would cut it all off. My hair was just past my shoulders; Sister Mary Lorrain put my hair in a ponytail and cut it off. This hair was then given to our parents as a sign of our sacrifice. My mother kept it as she had Sister Mary Lorrain’s. We had only a short time to change and return to the chapel to receive our new name. Our smiling bright faces shone with eager radiance as the bishop came to each one giving us our new name. It made me very happy that my uncle, Msgr. Weigel along with Christina’s uncle, Fr. Stemberg was officiating with the Bishop. The bishop, Bishop Strecker, was from Marcy’s home town.

In the world you were known as Celine Maynard

now you will called Sister Mary Charity

In the world you were known as Marcy Streeter

now you will be called Sister Mary Matilda

In the world you were known as Rose Anne Hovey

now you will be called Sister Mary Hubert

The parents of these seventeen beamed with pride as the tears rolled down their happy faces. Their daughters were leaving the materialism and worldliness around them to become brides of Christ. It had been established previously during a Marion year in order to honor the Blessed Mother that each sister would have Mary in her name.

In the world you were known as Trudy Lewis

now you will be called Sister Mary Benedict

In the world you were known as Jacinta Mannes

now you will be called Sister Mary Gabriela

In the world you were known as Faith Donaldson

now you will be called Sister Mary Romano

The 17 had lived on the fourth floor of the convent for 9 months studying and doing menial chores as Postulants. There was many a night they had cried themselves to sleep overcome with homesickness but they had persevered. The long wait to receive the Dominican habit was over. The day they would be called by a new name had arrived.

In the world you were known as Iris Valdes

now you will be called Sister Mary Lourdes

In the world you were known as Kathleen Preacher

now you will be called Sister Mary Thomas

In the world you were known as Alice Monroe

now you will be called Sister Mary Hilary

These 17 had come from different backgrounds and different financial situations and even cultures but they had become one. Seventeen had entered on September 3, 1959 and 17 were now receiving the habit together.

In the world you were known as May Moore

now you will be called Sister Mary Fredrick

In the world you were known as Christina Newel

now you will be called Sister Mary Gerald

In the world you were known as Catherine Gorman

now you will be called Sister Mary Luke

They were as young as 16 and as old as 22. Some had gone to the convent Prep School for two years before entering the convent and were just finishing high school while others had finished high school and even nursing school. The status of their family’s financial situation did not enter the mind of these young brides of Christ. They were bound together by their desire to serve Christ.

In the world you were known as Rosemarie Roberts

now you will be called Sister Mary Richard

In the world you were known as Virginia Phlieger

now you will be called Sister Mary Carmel

Part of the Rule of St. Augustine, that they followed, was read each evening during dinner it said, You may be with women that you would not be able to associate with in the world but here you are one family.

In the world you were known as Terri Murray

now you will be called Sister Mary Louis

In the world you were known as Rita Henry

now you will be called Sister Mary Lawrence

In the world you were known as Christine Stemberg

now you will be called Sister Mary Leo

Our nine months together had begun to form us into one family. We worked side by side and cried with each other when any one experienced pain or loss. We were the pride of the novitiate, in most classes some Postulants left before they received the habit but our class had remained intact. At that time there were 17 canonized Dominican Saints and so we each received a Dominican Saint as part of our name. I was Sister Mary Carmel of St. Catherine of Siena. I was so happy to receive this title to follow my name because St. Catherine of Siena had been my chosen patron at Confirmation and I often turned to her for guidance. I felt I had received special protection from the saint by receiving this title.

But our happy 17 did not last and during the novitiate years two of our group left. After the two year novitiate 15 of us professed our vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience for three years. This was called temporary vows. It was at this time we were allowed to put OP for Order of Preachers behind our name. We professed these temporary vows twice and then after 6 years we made final or perpetual vows. During the time of temporary vows 9 of us left the convent. Six of our class made perpetual vows, vowing to live this life until death. Perpetual vows could only be dissolved by Rome. Of those six, two have remained in the convent and will celebrate 50 years of professed life in the year 2012

As I sat and listened to this group reminisce about their lives, I had to smile at how each in their own way had continued to serve Christ. They had all become Christ for the people they met in the world. Two of our group, Sr. Cathy and Sr. Chris, as they are now called having been given permission to return to their baptismal names, remain true to their vows. They continue to be our stronghold – a place to come back to and be refreshed. They had suffered loss as each of us left to find another life to which we felt called. Their courage and love for us have held us together and periodically bring us back to our common beginnings. Once again we associate with those whom we might not have ever associated. There is a bond between us that cannot be broken, not even by death.

So what has become of these 17 eager bright eyed brides of Christ? These are their stories, why they entered the convent and why they left or stayed, what has happened to them since that day in June 1960. As I attempt to write these stories and interview my former classmates I find that we are all in different places with our memories of the convent. Some of us still carry resentment about the way things were at the time we were in the convent. Some of us have chosen to forget the bad times and carry with them only the good memories. I have found that the more I write the more I remember both the good and the bad. Talking with the others has helped me to remember. As I write I found the desire to tell more of my own story; my story in which all these very special people have played a role and continue to do so.

The Story Begins or Chapter 1

As I related some of these stories to a friend,

she said, That’s a book. So here it is.

Today it is a lounge, a long roomy rectangular room with a television set and several recliners — gray, blue and mauve. There are a couple of small tables between the chairs. The carpet is a gray functional floor covering. A wall has been removed opening the space into a comfortable visiting area perfect for a class reunion. At one end of the room, a simple kitchen has been installed — refrigerator, stove, sink, no dish washer but there is a small microwave. The kitchen wraps around with a food bar on one side. Separating the kitchen from the lounge area is a round table with a few straight back chairs. Fifty years ago this room on the fourth floor was all one long room with long tables and uncomfortable hard chairs. The room seemed smaller and more crowded then with just enough space to get around. Of course, there were 17 of us all trying to find a space to sit with our sewing kits and two everyday sets of clothes and one good set for Sunday. Sister Lucille, the assistant to the novice mistress, was there instructing us along with a few novices whom we called our guardian angels. Our task was to sew our number, which each of us had been assigned, onto each piece of our clothing so it would be returned to us after it went to the laundry. This was no small task as all our under garments and night wear also had to be marked. It was a good thing that we had no more than three of any one thing.

That day our giggles and ouches from pricked fingers could be heard down the hall. That was a rare occasion as we soon learned that the sisters always kept silence. We were joining a community with contemplative roots in New York and before that, Germany. The sisters had retained many of their contemplative customs. Silence was one of them. The sisters further down the hall refrained from being irritated that day as they knew we had just arrived. After that, our first day, we would learn that we, too, would be expected to keep silence except at our one hour of recreation time. This did not bother me as I had contemplated entering a cloistered community of Carmelites but my desire to be a teacher won out along with the urging of the Prep Mistress who counseled me in Prep School.

We were all jubilant that first day. I had wanted to enter the convent for as long as I could remember. I wanted to be a teacher and the only teachers I knew, since I attended a Catholic School, were religious sisters. I didn’t think about the things in the world that I was leaving, rock `n roll and television. We had only gotten a television in 1955 so I wasn’t as attached as many young people are today. I loved to dance along with the American Bandstand on Saturday afternoon. My mom said Rock `n Roll was a fad and told me how she had danced the Charleston in the `20’s and the Jitterbug in the `40’s, but no matter how much I loved to dance I was willing to give up everything in the world in order to be a sister I thought this was the way to be a saint which was what I wanted most of all. I think my mother had instilled this desire in all of her children. I often thought about joining a cloistered community. I wanted to be a Carmelite like St. Theresa the Little Flower; but in the end decided to enter this particular community because my sister, Jean (Sister Mary Lorrain), had entered here and because I wanted to be a teacher. I was in the third grade when Jean went to the convent and I missed her terribly; I wanted to be near her. I cried for days after she left and mom didn’t know what to do to make me feel better. From then on going to the convent was all I thought about.

I was the youngest of seven children in a very Catholic family. Religion always came first in our home. Missing Mass was never an option or even one that was ever entertained. I don’t ever remember being too sick to not attend Mass. My mother attended daily Mass. We also observed Tuesday night services, devotions to Our Lady of Perpetual Help which was followed by Bingo in the church hall. During Advent and Lent every evening we all knelt down as a family on the cement floor in our living room and prayed the rosary together. Mom helped prepare the Thanksgiving dinner which was served by the parish for anyone who wanted to attend. Several times Mom served as president of the women’s guild the women’s church group and also served as president of the Daughters of Isabel, the women’s branch of the Knights of Columbus of which my dad was a member. The only art in our house was religious pictures and crucifixes in every room. My uncle, mom’s brother, was a priest. Mom adored her brother and whenever he came to visit, she would yell when she saw his car drive up, Father’s coming, that was the cue for us girls to run to the bedroom and change from our jeans or shorts into a skirt. We never wore pants around Msgr. Weigel which is how we always addressed him. We would scramble to the bedroom that we four girls shared and quickly change and then quietly appear as if that is how we always dressed. My mother always wore a dress. She never owned a pair of pants until sometime in the seventies. My father had a fit then never liking to see her in pants. Msgr. Weigel died suddenly in 1970 of a heart attack so mom didn’t care if dad liked the pants or not; she didn’t run to change her clothes for dad like she had us do for her bother.

To my older five siblings I was frequently in the way. They could do things better and faster so they preferred I stay out of the kitchen or away from where they were working. This attitude, though unintentional, has stayed with me throughout my life and has given me a complex I have had to work to overcome. My oldest brother, Everett, had returned from the Second World War when I was just three years old, and couldn’t tolerate my noise making. He had been on the front lines in Germany and had what was then called shell shock. Today we call it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). He witnessed his best friend killed beside him and was himself saved by a St. Christopher medal he carried in his pocket over his heart. It had the indentation of a bullet he took. He would have nightmares and wake up some nights screaming. He used to say, Children are to be seen and not heard. To which Danny would add, And in your case, both. Though I was in the way of my older brothers as a child I grew to be very fond of them as adults. I know they loved me but it was a different time and children were seen and treated differently. Everett use to say to me after I grew up, It must be nice to be the baby and not have to do anything. I know that compared to Everett I didn’t have to do anything. He went to work at age nine washing dishes in the cafe where mom worked. In many ways he was the father figure to my older siblings. It was Everett who bought me my first and only bike when I was in fifth grade. My father was drinking heavily when my older siblings were little and their childhood was much different than mine. At one point I told Everett he could be the baby, and I would just be the youngest. Several years before he died after he had had a stroke I reminded him that he was the baby and I was just the youngest. He gave me a lop-sided smile and tried to giggle. He died at age 76. I did not know that my father was an alcoholic or understand what that meant until I was in the fifth grade. Dad had joined AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) when I was about three years old. My early memories of my father are very different than those of my siblings. Dad use to hold me on his lap and read to me when he would finish the story, I would say, Read it again and he would read it again. He never showed that he was tired of reading it over and over. One Saturday night, when I was in fifth grade, dad came home late. Dad was the only barber in Plainville and Saturday was a busy day for him. So it was after 9:00 PM when he got home. Mom was away at a convention in Wichita, for one of the women’s groups in which she was involved. I was playing a board game on the floor with a neighbor girl.