Sundays with Sister Ssj: A Tapestry of Stories from My 395 One-Hour Visits Every Sunday with an Unforgettable 87 Year Old Nun I Had Not Seen in 46 Years

By Anthony Happy LaRiccia

The story Sundays with Sister ssj shines a light on a nun who left an indelible impression on everyone she touched especially a second grade student who 47 years later , at 54 years old met her every Sunday for an hour without a miss lasting 7 ½ years.

His Sunday visits always revealed Sisters unique personality. It also uncovered unique stories like meeting a Mensa Whore for lunch, A wild car ride in winter with two Carmelite nuns, The story of a nun who mothered 125 babies while living in the convent and the back story of why she became a nun; Intimidating the general manager of a cable company to hook up cable at the convent so nuns could watch Pope Paul 11 visit to the United States in 1993, Meeting a mannequin nun and her “trick” ruler, Watch what happens when a Carmelite monk meets a 104 year old nun, Read about Sisters flying friend a parakeet named Jose’, Find out what scared all the nuns that was in the field surrounding the convent Learn about Sisters two brothers who, at the age of 20 in 1920, walked from their home in Erie, Pennsylvania to California pushing a cart with utensils and a two man tent, then living in that tent for ten years with a cat called Felix….Plus many other true stories that are fun to read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Nov 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781480894570

Anthony Happy LaRiccia

Anthony H. Lariccia attended Gannon University in Erie, Pa. majoring in Biology/Science. He held positions in Research & Development from 1963-65 at Erie Technological Products In Erie, pa., a manufacturer of electronic components used in space exploration. From 1963 -67 was a Medical Specialist in the Pennsylvania National Guard, 112th Infantry Division In 1963 he accepted a position at American Sterilizer Co, (AMSCO) in Erie, Pa., a manufacturer of operating room equipment as a research scientist and held various R & D and Marketing positions during his 33 years employment, retiring in 1998 with company sales of $500 million. During his employment he obtained many patents and was awarded the companies Vice President Award for outstanding achievement as a scientist. He also received an accommodation letter in 1967 from John Edgar Hoover, Director of the FBI for outlying a procedure to locate kidnappers who sent ransom letters. He was the youngest of 50 microbiologists from around the country that was invited to attend a one week training course in 1966 sponsored by the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta, Georgia entitled “Microbiology of the Hospital Environment.” In June, 1973 he was awarded an honorary Doctor of Science degree sponsored by Dr. John J. Perkins, Vice President of Research, AMSCO. In November 1981, The Pet Dealers magazine devoted a full page to publishing his letter on Page 9, warning that a dog vaccine being used by veterinary doctors was causing and not preventing “parvo” a deadly virus that was killing many pets across the country. He was also recognized on January 1993 in the NASA Tech Brief magazine, Volume 17, number 1, for writing one of the top 1992 letters in a contest sponsored by 16 scientific magazines. A 5-page paper was published in 2010 in the peer review magazine Journal of American Science, 2010, Volume 6, issue 10, cumulated No. 10, ISSN 1545-1003 entitled “REVERSE EVOLUTION: The Evolution Darwin Never Saw Supports Creation. “ You can read this thesis paper by entering the title into the Google search engine. In December 2014 this paper was presented in novel form and published as a 200 page ebook entitled “REVERSE EVOLUTION OF MAN” by Amazon (Kindle/windows): APPLE (ipad/Mac) & Barnes & Noble (Nook)’

Book preview

SUNDAYS

WITH

SISTER

SSJ

A tapestry of stories from my

395 one-hour visits every Sunday

with an unforgettable 87 year old

nun I had not seen in 46 years

Anthony Happy LaRiccia

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Copyright © 2020 Anthony Happy LaRiccia.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

Archway Publishing

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.archwaypublishing.com

844-669-3957

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-4808-9456-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-9455-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-9457-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020922876

Archway Publishing rev. date: 03/16/2021

Contents

* 19 photo’s in this book

Book Summary: Sundays with Sister ssj

Preface and Acknowledgments

Open House

The Convent

Sister Mannequin

Holy Smokes, You’re Alive!

The Cable Company

A Ruler for Sister Mannequin

Who Took the Ruler?

Swinging Skeleton

Hello, Darlene

How It Works

The Walk Around

Don’t Pick the Flowers

A Note to Sister from the President of the Slinky

The Carmelites and a Preemie

Two Carmelites and a Scary Ride through the Snow

Mother Mary

A Baby Cries

Brainwashing Sister about My Theory

Sister Joseph’s Babies

Sister’s Nephew and Family

A Walk around the Convent

Darlene Arrives from California

Sister Joseph John’s Promise

Dinner with Sister and Darlene

Darlene Tours Erie

Sister Anthony

A Large Grocery Store

Nancy Arrives from California

Sister in the Hospital

Telling the Future

Two Billion Galaxies

The Old Neighborhood

Carmelite Monk

Sister Gets Knocked Down

A Laptop for the Sisters

Kennedy’s Plane Disappears

Jose Passes

NTSB Report

The Chicken Run Movie

Who Won the Presidency?

Doctor Anthony

How the Grinch Stole Christmas

Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

Sister Marie Therese Decker Work History

Author’s Bio

Authors Note To Readers

Photos and layout: the author

Jacket design: Peter Craven of Tech Nuts LLC,

Erie, Pennsylvania, and the author

Scanning of photos and emailing to publisher:

PresqueislePrinting.com, Erie, Pennsylvania.

Book coordinator and editor: Jill VanDyke

First Edition

Anthony H. LaRiccia is author of "Reverse Evolution: The

Evolution Darwin Never Saw Supports Creation," Journal of

American Science, 2010, Volume 5, issue 10, ISSN 1545-1003.

BOOK SUMMARY

Sundays with Sister ssj

The story Sundays with Sister ssj shines a light on a nun who left an indelible impression on everyone she touched especially a second grade student who in 1947 exactly 46 years ago, at 54 years old met her every Sunday for an hour without a miss lasting 7 ½ years.

His Sunday visits always revealed Sisters unique personality. It also uncovered unique stories like meeting a Mensa Whore for lunch, A wild car ride in winter with two Carmelite nuns, The story of a nun who mothered 125 babies while living in the convent and the back story of why she became a nun; Intimidating the general manager of a cable company to hook up cable at the convent so nuns could watch Pope Paul 11 visit to the United States in 1993, Meeting a mannequin nun and her trick ruler, Watch what happens when a Carmelite monk meets a 104 year old nun, Read about Sisters flying friend a parakeet named Jose’, Find out what scared all the nuns that was in the field surrounding the convent Learn about Sisters two brothers who, at the age of 20 in 1920, walked from their home in Erie, Pennsylvania to California pushing a cart with utensils and a two man tent, then living in that tent for ten years with a cat called Felix….Plus many other true stories that are fun to read..

To the memory of

Sister Marie Therese Decker (SSJ)

1906–2001

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Preface and Acknowledgments

For the Record

Into everyone’s life at some point, a special person or event will make an undeniable mark on one’s memory, which will last a lifetime. This book is about that special person and the one-hour visits I had with her every Sunday for seven-and-a-half years (395 visits).She was an unforgettable nun, who was also my second-grade teacher. Until that time, I had not seen her in forty-six years.

In 2017 while shopping, I would bump into casual acquaintances, whom I had not seen since retiring some nineteen years earlier, and who would ask, What have you been up to since retirement?

I would reply, "I’m writing a book called Sundays with Sister."

The person would reply, "You mean like the book Tuesdays with Morrie?"

My response would be, Somewhat. That book was written by Mitch Albom and was about the 14 visits he made every Tuesday with his former college professor who was dying of a neurological disease, ALS, commonly known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. My book is about the 395 visits I made every Sunday with an unforgettable nun, who was my second-grade teacher who I. had not seen in over forty years. There is a lot more to my story.

Sounds interesting, Tony. Let me know when it’s published.

Will do.

I wish to thank my friends who are too numerous to mention and assisted me in the challenge of writing this book.

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Open House

On a Sunday in the summer of 1993, my alarm clock went off at its regular time (9:00 a.m.). I went through my usual routine : Got up, dressed, had a cup of coffee and a light breakfast, and read the previous day’s newspaper. My habit was to read the morning newspaper one day late. Meanwhile, my wife, Sylvia, read that day’s paper.

To most people, this might seem to be a strange scenario. It wasn’t to us. It eliminated our tussling over who got to read the morning paper first. We not only followed this routine on the weekends but every day. News’ items that appeared on the front page of that day’s newspaper were reported on the nightly national TV news’ channels, which I watched religiously every night. I never missed much by reading the newspaper one day late.

On Sunday after scanning the headlines of articles in my day-old newspaper, I tackled jobs around the house, which I had put off during the week. The weekend was the time for housework. The number one job in the summer was cutting the grass. This took me an hour to complete, along with checking the list of other minor items I had to complete over the weekend and getting them done. At 3:00 p.m. on Sunday, I came in, sat in my favorite chair, and finished reading the rest of my day-old newspaper. It was my way of resting after completing my tasks. While scanning the rest of the paper, a headline in the living section caught my eye, which I had not seen notice on my first pass through it. It read, Open House Sunday for Sisters of St. Joseph. I decided to read the article because I had gone to a Catholic grade school. I had been taught by nuns who belonged to the order of St. Joseph. I fondly remembered my 1947 second-grade teacher, Sister Marie Therese, whose kindness and demeanor had left an indelible mark on me that I would never forget.

The article said that the sisters had recently moved from their former one-hundred-year-old facility, which was located in the city. The new facility, Sisters of Saint Joseph, housed eighty nuns. It was located in Millcreek Township, which was a suburb near their former facility. The article briefly highlighted the niceties of the new facility, which included an Olympic-sized swimming pool, a chapel, a restaurant that held over a hundred people, a hair salon, a TV dayroom, and many other features.

Each nun’s living quarters in the brick convent building had windows. These provided a view of a field and the wildflowers that surrounded the convent. Nuns enjoyed this view from their rooms while performing their daily prayers. The description of the nuns’ convent sounded like a Las Vegas resort.

The last part of the article mentioned that the facility would be open to the public from 1:00 to 5:00 p.m. on the following Sunday. Because I was reading Saturday’s paper on Sunday at 3:30 p.m., there was only an hour and a half left before the open house started.

Their convent was only a quarter of a mile from my house, which was less than a five-minute drive. What had initially attracted me to the newspaper announcement hadn’t been the words open house but Sisters of Saint Joseph. This order of nuns had taught at Sacred Heart Grade School in Erie, Pennsylvania.

I remembered Sister Marie Therese, who had taught my second-grade class. After second grade, she had been transferred to another school. I never saw her again but never forgot her. Why? I don’t know.

During the remainder of my grade school years, I would periodically go past my second-grade classroom and try to remember what she looked like. The feelings I had had for her had never waned, even while attending an all-boy’s preparatory high school and during college, which had also been taught by nuns and priests.

What was it about this nun that penetrated my soul? These feelings remained throughout my adult years. I always remembered her with kind thoughts. I kept her in my prayers. What was so special about this nun who had made an everlasting impression on me? I couldn’t figure it out.

While reading the newspaper article, I wondered if the nuns who lived at the new convent knew Sister Marie Therese and the place she had been buried, since she had likely passed away. This was 1993. It had been forty-six years since I had been in second grade. She would be very old if she was still alive. I doubted that she would still be above ground.

I could go to the open house and ask if anyone knew the location of her grave. I was thinking that it would be nice to pay my respects and leave some flowers. I decided not to go. The nuns would probably think I was nuts for trying to find the burial location of a dead second-grade teacher that I hadn’t seen since 1947.

I put the newspaper down to watch TV. It was 4:00 p.m., but I couldn’t get comfortable while watching the tube. I was thinking about the open house. The clock said 4:10 p.m.

I thought, "Nah, I am not going over. That’s just plain stupid. It’s 4:30 p.m. I picked up the paper and read the open house announcement again. I thought, The open house closes at 5:00 p.m. That’s only thirty minutes from now. If I decided to go, it would only take five minutes to get there. I thought, Forget it. This is stupid to even think about.

Now it was fifteen minutes before closing. What was the worst thing that could happen if I went over and asked my question? It was no big deal. If I didn’t go now, I could stop there during the middle of the week and ask that same question.

It was now 4:50 p.m. There were only ten minutes to go. I could still make the deadline. Just do it, I thought. Go, get off your butt.

If this notice had appeared in the paper twenty years ago, I would never have made it to the open house in time. From the day we had bought the house in 1966 (the year we had been married), I had constantly lost my car keys. When I would come home from work or after going to the store, I would toss my car keys on the kitchen counter, in the bathroom, in the bedroom, or on a shelf in the garage. It would have taken me at least half an hour to find where I had tossed my car keys.

Finally after years of frustration of looking for my keys, the time came to buy a hanger for them and to mount it above the kitchen’s light switch. When I came home, it became a habit for me to put the car keys on the hanger. I never again had to hunt for my car keys (There’s a feather for my cap).

With ten minutes left and before the convent’s open house ended, I jumped into my four-door, red Horizon and headed to the convent where I saw a large green sign posted above a manicured lawn at the beginning of a long driveway.

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The Convent

The sign read, Sisters of Saint Joseph of Northwest Pennsylvania. I turned into the two-lane blacktop driveway. The driveway seemed to be about three hundred feet long. I could see that it led to a large brick building and that about twenty of the fifty parking spaces were filled.

I drove slowly on this road and reached the parking area. Some people were getting into their vehicles and some were exiting. It looked like I was not going to be the last person to show up for the open house. After parking my vehicle and getting out of the car, I quickly looked around at the ten to fifteen people to see if I recognized anybody. No faces rang a bell. I spotted the main entrance to the convent and headed in so that I could ask about the location of the Sister’s memorial.

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Caption for picture: Front of convent

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Sister Mannequin

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After opening the glass doors and entering the building, I was traumatized by what I saw. In a room ten feet from the entrance, a life-sized mannequin of a fully dressed nun, which was in the middle of the room, faced the front door’s entrance. It was dressed in a 1950’s Sister of St. Joseph nun’s attire. She was wearing a black dress that went to her ankles, a habit with a big white bib that surrounded her neck and upper body, and a large rosary that hung from her left side. It gave me goose bumps. Most of the nuns who taught me throughout grade school scared the bejesus out of me. The one exception was my second-grade teacher.

This mannequin looked real as hell. It scared me. I felt like I was back in the fifties. I froze and blocked the entrance. Someone behind me said, Excuse me please. I moved into the lobby, which was the opposite direction from the mannequin. To my right, an older-looking woman, who was dressed in a layperson’s clothes, sat behind a counter. She was alone. The counter had numerous pamphlets lying across it. They were handouts about the facility for open-house attendees.

As I approached her, she said, Can I help you?

Yes, I replied. Looks like you had a great turnout for your open house.

That we did,’’ she replied. God even provided us with a perfect summer day."

That he did, I said. Excuse me for not introducing myself. My name is Tony. I attended Sacred Heart Grade School in the forties and fifties. I was taught by the Sisters of Saint Joseph.

Nice to meet you, Tony. I am Sister Alexander.

When she told me she was a sister, it caught me off guard. She was dressed in a layperson’s clothing. How could she be a nun?

The sister had recognized my surprise when she had introduced herself as a nun. Tony, most of the nuns here are dressed in layperson’s clothes. Some of the older nuns still wear a modern version of the traditional nun’s attire. In 1965, Pope John called on the sisters of the world to redefine their roles. As a result of a five-year process, sisters moved into a radically different mainstream. They established shelters and opened soup kitchens. Between the sixties and seventies, the order loosened its structures, including allowing nuns to live outside the convent and wear regular clothing.

Wow that is something I did not know, Sister. Thanks for the info.

Most people don’t know about the history of our changes, unless they are very familiar with our order.

Sister, did you teach school?

Oh yes, she replied with a smile. Some of my best memories were my teaching years. I taught mostly grade school. Fourth and fifth grades.

What schools did you teach at?

St. Patrick’s, Blessed Sacrament, Saint Andrews, and a half a dozen other schools.

Did any of your former students come to this open house?

As a matter of fact, two students I hadn’t seen since the sixties came up to me and introduced themselves.

Did you recognize them?

Sadly, no.

The fact that they remembered you, Sister, has to be satisfying.

It was.

Sister, my purpose for coming here today is to find out where one of my favorite nuns, who taught my second-grade class at Sacred Heart school in the late forties, is buried so I can visit her gravesite.

What’s her name, Tony?

I knew her as Sister Marie Therese.

That’s Sister Marie Therese Decker, she replied.

So you knew her, I commented. Do you know where she is buried? I asked.

Tony, I am happy to inform you that she is not buried.

What? I said. How can that be? She would have to be over one hundred years old.

Not quite. She is only in her late eighties.

Really? I said.

Sister pointed to her right and said, She lives in the senior wing of the facility, which is called Marycrest Living Center. It’s down that hallway.

I can’t believe it, I replied with a gasp. Down that hallway?

Yes, replied the sister. Follow the hall all the way down, and you will run into a large nursing call center. Ask one of the nurses to tell you what room the sister lives in.

A thousand thanks, Sister. I can hardly believe this. You made my day. What is your name again, Sister?

Sister Alexander. When you see Sister, tell her I said hello.

Will do, Sister, and thanks again.

The hallway that the sister had pointed to went to the right. The sister had said that I should follow the right hallway about two hundred feet and that it would lead me to Marycrest Living Center where the senior nuns lived. I assumed the hallway that went to the left led to the living quarters of nuns who were not seniors. As I walked toward the tight hallway, I noticed a large double door labeled, CHAPEL, on the left. I decided to open the door and to peek inside.

The large chapel had about one-hundred-plus chairs with fold-up kneelers, rather than the traditional pews that one sees in a church. A simple altar was at the front of the chapel—nothing fancy. All that was missing was what I was accustomed to seeing on a church altar: a large cross with Christ hanging on it. I was taken aback because I did not even see a plain cross on or near the altar. After all, this was the nuns’ chapel.

On the left wall of the chapel adjacent to the altar was a large glass wall, that reached to the top of the twelve-foot-high ceiling. Through it, I could see the surrounding woods outside and a large hill that was covered with grass and wildflowers. I could see a sidewalk about ten feet from the chapel, which appeared to circle the building.

To the far right of the altar, thirty kneeler chairs faced a smaller altar. Unlike the main altar, which had no statues, this one had a statue of St. Joseph and the Blessed Mother placed in its center. Hanging on the wall to the right of the altar and spaced twelve inches apart were fourteen tall metal plaques depicting the stations of the cross.

A separate door in the back of the chapel was visible and accessible from the outside hallway. This chapel most likely served the nuns for daytime, personal prayers and meditation. Two women were in the chapel. One was dressed in a layperson’s clothes while the other was in what appeared to be a modified nun’s outfit. Each was holding a rosary. Time to leave, I thought and headed out the chapel door.

Following Sister Alexander’s instructions, I walked farther down the right hallway. I passed a room on my left that had large floor-to-ceiling, curved glass windows. The windows provided a great view of the woods that surrounded the convent. This room was packed with all kinds of plants. Some were on the floor, others were on shelves, and some were hanging on the wall. The room was a huge terrarium. Most likely, it was a playroom for the horticulturists that lived there.

As I continued my walk, I spotted another large double door to my right. A sign above the door was labeled, Dining Area. I pushed open the door and peeked inside. The room looked like a traditional cafeteria found in any school. There was a long counter, which had a glass shield that covered the food. Two women, who were dressed in street clothes and were wearing hairnets and gloves, were working behind the counter. They were preparing the dinner that was to be served shortly to the nuns.

To the far left of the counter, there were dozens of tables. Each had four chairs. Two women in laypersons’ clothes were sitting at a table and were talking to each other. Each had a cup of something on the table in front of them. One of the women who faced my direction waved to me. I waved back.

The back area of the cafeteria was lined with wall-to-wall bay windows. It provided a picturesque view of the area out front: the woods and the parking lot. Also visible through these windows was a view of the concrete walkway that encircled the convent.

Enough gawking, I thought. I had to move on. The open house had ended at 5:00 p.m., and it was now 5:15 p.m. Soon, someone would ask me to leave. I would just smile and say okay but continue on my way. Nothing was going to stop me from finding Sister Marie Therese. I had to stop my nosey peeking at everything along the way. I couldn’t seem to help myself. I wanted to see what was here. It was all very different from a normal open house.

I exited the cafeteria and headed north. Fifteen steps away and on the left was a room with a sign over it labeled, exercise room. As I opened the door to the room, I could see exercise bikes and treadmills.

Continuing, I came across another room, which was also on my left. It had a sign over it marked, Pool. The doors to this room were locked. Most likely, it was because of a safety issue with the open house. I could see through the windows that were in the door. I saw what appeared to be an Olympic-sized swimming pool. Wow, I said out loud, after viewing the pool.

Okay, let’s keep going north, I whispered to myself. After walking another fifteen feet, I found a small open area on the right. It was a petite library. Books lined the shelves on all three sides of the room. A circular table with two wooden chairs was in the center of the room. It was a combination library and reading room.

As I continued my walk, I saw a life-sized white porcelain sculpture of the Blessed Mother’s face. She was holding and looking at the baby Jesus.

I had to start moving along. It was getting late. Another room appeared on my right. It did not have a door. A chair was in the middle of this room. It looked like a barber’s chair. Obviously, it was. This was their in-house salon. Two shelves were visible. They held different colored bottles. A sink basin was located behind the barber’s chair. A large hair dryer was hanging on the wall above the sink. This had to be a busy room during the week. The facility housed eighty nuns who wore laypersons’ clothes.

Just ahead of this room, I spotted the large nursing station that Sister Alexander had mentioned. It was located down the center aisle where four hallways converged: the one I was walking down from the convent’s entrance, a hallway leading to the left, another leading to the right, and yet another leading north. At this station, nurses took care of the senior nuns who lived in the rooms along the hallways. Two women in their mid-thirties and in laypersons’ street clothes worked behind the nursing station.

Before walking up to the nursing station to ask which hallway to take so that I could find Sister Marie Theresa’s room, a large life-sized, colored painting of Jesus Christ in a long white robe grabbed my attention. The painting depicted Christ extending his hand to open the door of the house he was standing in front of. What caught my attention was that the door had no doorknob. I just gazed at it for thirty seconds, wondering why anyone would paint a beautiful picture of Christ reaching to open a door that had no doorknob.

How can we help you? asked one of the two women at the nursing station.

I’m looking for my second-grade teacher’s room, Sister Marie Therese, I said. Sister Alexander at the front lobby desk said she lived in this wing of the convent.

Yes, this is our senior residents’ living section. Sister Marie Theresa’s room is down that hallway. She pointed to the left of the nursing station. Follow it all the way down the hall, and you will run into a small alcove. Her room is on the left. Her name is on the wall next to the door.

Great, I said and headed down the hallway toward the sister’s room. As I walked down the hallway, I noticed that the nuns’ living quarters were only on the left side of the hallway. The right side was tagged as a janitor’s closet and storage room, a linen supply room, and an electrical supplies room. I began to read the names on the doors aloud. Sister Mary Grace. Sister Jean Louise. Sister Rose Marie. There was no name on the last door.

Later I was told that the room with no name was reserved for any nun’s family member who might visit from out of town. These family members were offered a free room for up to three days, including breakfast, lunch, and dinner, which was served in the cafeteria.

As I approached the end of the hallway that led into an alcove area, I could see two doors directly in front of me. I walked toward them. Before getting a chance to read the names on the wall next to the doors, I was distracted by a woman who was dressed in a layperson’s clothes and was ironing. She was standing behind an ironing board, which was located in front of a room on the right side of the alcove. She was ironing what looked like pillowcases. What caught my attention was her face. I thought I recognized her.

Hi, I said. Looks like a fun job.

It is if someone else is doing it, she replied.

Excuse me, I said. Can I ask your name?

My name is Sister Rose Marie.

Did you ever teach at Sacred Heart Grade School in Erie, Pennsylvania?

Yes, I taught seventh grade.

Heavens to Betsy, I said. I went to Sacred Heart in the late forties and early fifties and remember you teaching me in that grade.

What’s your name?

Anthony LaRiccia.

Doesn’t ring a bell, but that was a long time ago, Anthony.

What I do remember, Sister, is that all the guys thought you were the best-looking nun at Sacred Heart. They fought to stay after school and bang your erasers outside to get them clean.

I remember students doing that. There was always plenty of help available.

I was one of those helpers, Sister.

Anthony, are you looking for someone?

Yes, they told me at the nursing station that Sister Marie Therese’s room was in this alcove. I was looking for her room.

Anthony, Sister Marie Therese is right there. She pointed to a