Pilgrims at the Automat

...And so, buoyed by the lightness of our cleansed souls, we'd soar back on the shuttle to Grand Central But instead of marching straight back to our locker, we'd detour for adventure We found it at the Automat Savonng our new punty, we'd float in the front door, gape at the glass cages of food, and count the change in our pockets...

...Often we'd be the only penitents for the four-thirty confession Always we'd be the youngest We'd confess in whispers, blessedly anonymous to the solemn profile across the heavy screen After confessing we'd say our penance at the altar rail Such wondrous relief Hellfire held at bay...

...Now go nght home," he winked "Don't stop at the Automat'" It was a kindly joke, but it startled us for a second Then we bounced and rattled home on the subway...

...We'd pool our nickels and splurge on a dish of spaghetti or nee pudding There is nothing quite like feeding the body after the soul has been purified Our most memorable pilgnmage took place the day we spent our last nickel...

...What a wonderful idea' More than the taste of the pie (the best I've ever had, before or since) I remember the thrill of reckless abandon, as I watched our two last nickels disappear into the slot There we were, repentant sinners, splurging on a voluptuous slice of cream pie with no thought of the future...

...She said she was tired of always leading the way We passed a couple of cops before I got up the nerve...

...If we "consented" to it, did not chase it immediately away, we were guilty of a "mortal" sin And that meant eternal punishment, unless we were rescued by confession I was a worrier Parish priests heard confessions only on Saturdays If I had a bad thought on a Monday and lost the battle against "consent," my soul would be stained for five days I was healthy, but, there was always the possibility of an untimely death— and damnable consequences Dunng this daily examination of conscience, we were supposed to keep our eyes closed But one morning while Sister was outlining the sins of the Sixth Commandment and my heart was pounding, my eyes sprang open and clicked instantly with another pair of eyes two rows away Bndget Mahoney and I exchanged a glance of mutual terror An eternal fnendship was born "I know a place where we can go to confession today1" Bndget whispered as we filed out of homeroom "I'll meet you outside at three o'clock sharp'" The resourceful Bridget knew that downtown, near Macy' s, there were two churches where priests heard confessions all day, every day, every hour on the half hour Oh, the spintual wonders of New York City' Our pilgrimages began "I have to go today Can you come with me9" I'd whisper to Bndget on a typical morning as we walked from religion class to biology lab Bndget always said yes Tomorrow she might need my company on the same journey "I gotta stay for cheerleading," she might say, "but I can be ready by three-thirty " Three-thirty would find us racing to the subway platform, nickels in our fists, arms balancing textbooks and loose-leaf binders We behaved angelically Our uniforms advertised us as Catholics and it was important not to give scandal Besides, we might get reported to the pnncipal...

...I white-lied and told him we had dropped our nickels "somewhere," which indeed we had He dug into his pockets and gave us each another...

...Between us we had just enough change to split a sandwich and a cup of hot cocoa (Cocoa was always a favonte It streamed from a silver faucet) But a luscious piece of coconut cream pie tempted us through the glass Two nickels We counted our change Two nickels between us, needed for the subway fare home...

...And, for the time being, redeemed...

...We'd arnve at Grand Central in twentyfive minutes and deposit our books in lockers Bridget knew her way around better than I, so she always led our trail, first to the shuttle, then one express stop to 34th Street Our pilgnmage always ended at either Saint Francis Church on 32nd Street or Saint John's on 31 st (We' d take turns at each) In memory, they are one church, softly lit, profoundly hushed The heavy doors would close behind us, sealing off the noise of Manhattan...

...Now if a truck ran us down or a mystenous illness suddenly struck, we'd be heaven-bound, with maybe just a short stay in purgatory...

...The Automat A child's paradise Food on china plates in little glass boxes Shove a couple nickels in a slot and turn a handle The food was yours Blink an eye and there was another china plate, ready for the next customer It was a miracle As a child, I had a few wonderful treats at the Automat But it was during my adolescence that the Automat became my sacred refuge Those were serious years Years of wrestling with sin and redemption Hellfire and heaven Big stuff I had won a scholarship to a Catholic high school in the Bronx One that required ugly uniforms and brown oxford shoes No lipstick...

...It must have been Bndget's idea—she was the adventurous one "So let's get it anyway We can ask a cop for the carfare home...

...One that began every day with a studious examination of conscience Sister would take us through the Ten Commandments, slowly and thoroughly We always seemed to linger on Number Six So many possibilities there A "bad thought," for instance...

...Anne Crawford Storz writes from Hamden, Connecticut...

...Free Pure souls Risk takers...

...It was the most daring event of our lives, an exhilarating nsk It wasn't even a sin...

...31...

...Finding a policeman was easy, but asking him for the nickels was harder than I thought it would be Bndget made me ask...