The last time I went to confession wasn’t planned. George was getting his First Communion and all the parents were asked to set an example.
So I went to confession.
I had the choice of three priests to confess my sins to. A young guy who looked like he smoked a joint beforehand. Some kind of Asian priest who spoke broken English and an old school Irish father who looked bored.
I picked the older priest because he reminded me of Father Coogan. Father Coogan taught me how to fly a kite in the church parking lot when I was seven.
I was the second guy in Father Old School’s line. The other two lines were packed. Packed with the parents with blank expressions on their faces hoping a pothead priest or a foreign priest will clear them from the sins of suburbia.
I was in the line with the guys that don’t fuck around. The guys that were Altar Boys, class clowns, troublemakers and street smart.
It was my turn….
“Bless me Father for I have sinned. My last confession was sometime during the first part of the Clinton administration.”
Father replied, “that’s been sometime son, we don’t have all night.”
So I hit him with the big one.
“Father, I have hatred in my heart for Muslims. I think they are evil and I don’t like them.”
Being a Padre from the old school I thought I was damning myself as the confession left my mouth. This guy is going to have me saying “Our Fathers” until I die.
He was floored with my honesty. I’m sure he wasn’t prepared to hear such a demanding confession on a First Communion preparation night.
Father told me to get my shit together if I wanted eternal life with God the Father and everyone else I’ve grown to love.
…..and sin no more!
So that long story gets us to Friday evening, March Third.
I’m selling a recliner on Facebook Marketplace for a hundred bucks. I get a message on Thursday from a guy named Abdul.
“Hi, I have an interest in this chair. I will pay you $300 cash and pickup tomorrow at your convenient time. I really need this chair and serious buyer. That’s a reason I’m offering you fair price of this chair.
Thanks. Abdul”
What the Fuck is this? A scam?
I asked a couple guys at work what they thought. All negative responses.
Well Abdul showed up on time. Small older gentleman who pulled up in a mid size hatchback. I walked the chair to the curb for him.
“This chair is perfect. I will be needing it for my wife who had surgery. She must need this. It fits all of my needs.”
Abdul explained everything in our five minute encounter.
When he handed me the money he thanked me. It was three hundred bucks.
“Abdul, I only asked for one hundred dollars.”
“But this is how much it is worth to me. This will help with the healing of my wife. Money is nothing to me.”
I shook his hand and told him that his wife will be in my prayers at bedtime. He was so thankful as he grabbed my hand again.
…..and you know his wife was involved in my nightly prayers. Hell, I gave her another shout out this morning when I said hello to heaven.
As Abdul pulled away I walked to my front stoop with this weird feeling.
Did I just receive a lesson in life just now?
Maybe I need to pray for the wife of Abdul if I want to see my mom and dad someday.
That’s today’s life lesson on the continuing adventures of a divorced dad farting around in the western part of Chicagoland.
Speaking of Chicagoland….
Happy birthday to the home of Sears Tower, Lake Shore Drive, Comiskey Park, the Hancock, pizza puffs, gospel music, Second City, house music, mustard on hotdogs and Chicagonese.
Nice job on the storm prediction yesterday. They said John Holmes was coming to town and it ended up being Patrick O’Noonan and Patty didn’t even appear!
Happy Saturday Chalkheads… maybe I’ll see you later!
