We made it to our selected pew near the front and were organized with EMS occupying the first 3 rows, then the police, and finally the fire personnel. The first thing I noticed right off the bat was that our pews were cushioned, both knee rest and the pew itself, built right in. I didn't think comfort and Catholicism went together. These pews were even more comfortable than they looked, and for my wife it was a relief to be lost in the loaded pews. The altar was open and expansive with this giant hand coming down reaching for a dove hanging down from the ceiling, the whole thing made with what looked to be brass and wire. The altar was post and lentil granite with a gold leafed tabernacle behind it. Quite a bit bigger than my old country church which I attended growing up as a teenager - St Joseph's, Pearlington, MS. For a town the size of Picayune this was pretty impressive. This church looked like it served a city with about 50,000 more people than it actually does, and the fact the county is predominantly Baptist is equally queer. Additionally, what stuck out for a church in the deep South, not only the deep South but in the state of Mississippi, was the races depicted in the dozen statues adorning the back wall rising up to the ceiling where two angels were decorated in 3D billowing tunics. Two of them were black, 1 oriental, 1 native American, and the rest Caucasian. When I was growing up pretty much every Catholic church I'd ever been to represented only white European statuary so this was a legitimate improvement. A small Madonna statue was near the front pew with a rosary hanging from its left hand and its base surrounded by small rocks. The retinue of clergy, altar boys, and prominent parishioners marched to the stage to put on their show.
There was a main priest, and older man in his 50's leading the group, an assistant priest maybe in his early 40's, and a Vietnamese priest newly ordained in his 20's. Three priests, 2 altar boys who wore white gloves which I have never seen altar boys around here wear, and half a dozen hyper-religious folk from the town carrying the implements of the upcoming mass. The familiar introductions and obligatory up, down, kneel rote ritual brought back all the memories of why I stop going to church a long time ago. I felt adversely steamy under the gaze of the crucified Christ hanging behind the altar. Some of the music and hymns gave me chills, others had me longing for that promised after mass dinner. Since hardly anyone within our EMS group were Catholic, except for one, there was hardly anyone singing or repeating the Catholic prayers. Course we all said the "the Lords prayer" when it was time to do so. All Christians know this. A few of us were atheist but even they recited the prayer. I pray because I might be wrong in my agnostic views, and if I'm right, that there is no divine being looking out for us then what did it hurt to pray in the first place? All of this filtered through my brain conditioned from childhood to believe in God and morality, or maybe it was psychic vibrations of the collective that I was picking up. The priest came to the part in the mass where he talks about whatever he's going to take about, and in this case the mass was for us - EMS, fire, and police - so it was not surprising that was the topic for the night. He talked about showing appreciation for us, how we tirelessly give of ourselves for the community, and how much we are needed for the common good and dignity of all of us. A lot of his focused seemed to be on the police more than EMS and fire since much of it pertained to justice and the law. Some of what he said resonated with me, mainly the common good and dignity stuff, but then he lead us into some kind of pseudo worship of the system that I abhor. How he did this was superbly and masterfully done that I almost didn't notice. "You crafty trickster," I thought. He did say that cops are much maligned and hated by many, though he did not say specifically what might cause that, but went on to all the reasons why we need them to keep law and order. We do, I agree, but why do we? To ask this question brings up the nature of the system, a system that restricts our freedom to be productive units for the wealth and power of a few. He then had to bring drugs up, and how they were destroying our community, and how cops were doing their best to stop it. Drugs? Like Zoloft, Klonipin, Lithium, etc?? Oh, you mean weed, a natural substance that mellows people out and has led to some of best music ever. Forget about all those who killed themselves because of an antidepressant, or a system that traps and incarcerates people with addictions, while the worse addiction of all - greed - is honored with lofty titles of success. No, no, no, the law is rooting out the evils, and the churches job is to lubricate our minds to the painful and bloody process of dominionist justice. Right father? I so wanted to stand up and rebuke this man but the consequences would be unlivable.
Waiting for the mass to end was like watching a pot boil, and I could tell the Baptist in the group were uncomfortable but quietly polite. We all were. The Catholic among us, a EMT that cusses all the time and loves porn, went up for communion. He's a damn funny Frenchman who smokes all the time and refuses to believe it causes cancer. His grandmother is 94 and smokes too. You know the story - every smoker has a old family member that smoked all their life doing just fine. Never mind that she is hooked to oxygen and calls the ambulance once a week to get emergency CPAP and steroids. Ah well, that's an old argument. It's hard to win an argument with someone that doesn't understand statistics. The countless smokers we run emergencies on doesn't make an impression either. It's funny how we're all floating around in these little belief bubbles trying to pop each other into a wet mess of acrimony.
Finally, the mass was over - "go in peace" - we shuttled out to the rec hall for a good old fashion Catholic supper. Spaghetti of course, anything Catholic; food wise, is spaghetti. Rec hall tables filled with styrofoam bowls (salad), cakes, and big hot crock pots with various other home cooked viddles. It wasn't just spaghetti. There was lasagna, pot roast, stuffing, gumbo, baked macaroni, and everything else good under the grace of being Southern. I was hungry too, so my plate quickly became filled with a sampling of just about everything. I like it when the food all blends together into interesting and new tastes. Ever tried lasagna mixed a little with roast beef gravy and stuffing? It was culinary madness and heresy. Ice tea to wash it all down. It seemed odd to be dinning at a table with cops wearing their utility belts and uniforms. Their yellow tazers stood out the most. The extension batons stuck in between their 9mm and the tazer. It's easy to see why people would want to be cops, get to carry guns around openly and weld torture devices that can be used with impunity. Who wouldn't power trip a little? I haven't seen any of the deputies I work with use their tazers to their credit, or really in anyway treat people without some semblance of dignity and respect. Though sometimes I suspect things go on behind public eye, or my eyes, that does not get justice. One would expect this with so many testosterone driven lone rangers packing the tools of dominance. Carl, a black cop sitting across from me, sporting a bald head so shiny it could be used as a signaling mirror ate his roast beef and cornbread in quiet repose. Carl was the one that had raced ahead in the hurricane driven rain that night the tow trucker was killed to stop us from going any further down the street where the tree had fallen. He lead us to the man that was dying. I remember him blocking off the street where a 2 year old had drowned which allowed us to get in and out quickly with the baby. He was chatting up a humorous conversation with Vincent, a cop that last week let a man go that had a 100,000 dollar bond out on his arrest because he was having chest pain. I remember him saying it would be too risky for the guy to be cuffed and brought to jail given his extensive and morbid cardiac problems. The man said it was for a DUI in which he hadn't shown up to court for. I don't believe they put out 100k bonds out for that, but what do I know? The guy really was faking his chest pain as he went AMA a few minutes after we arrived at the ER. There's no way a cop in New Orleans would've let him go, but things like that go on in this rural county I live in. I'm glad to see it too. It's not all good though. Nearly fifty men and women are sitting in the jail across town, mostly for drug possession and other petty crimes. There's a lot of thieves and drunks too. Unemployment is high in this community if you have no college level education, and the crime seems to be increasing because of it. Medicaid, welfare, unemployment - all of it is increasingly harder to get. People are depressed and become addicted to all kinds of stuff, sometimes even become suicidal.
While all this was running through my head the knights, a leading member of their order, was up on stage at the mic calling out ticket numbers. We had each grabbed a ticket when we were ushered in for a prize drawing. Local merchants, like the body detail shop, or some local restaurant were giving away gift certificates. The good food was enough for me so I pretty much ignored the bingo type atmosphere.
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