Altars Are Just Like Stages…

St. Alice Church - one of my first "gigs"

Another stage I liked was the altar at St. Alice church. Once you reached 5th grade, the nuns and priests would let students read aloud at mass. I have to be honest, I don’t’ know what I was reading, if it was passages from the Bible, or Psalms or what. I don’t even know the difference. I guess the Bible?  The point is that I didn’t care what I was reading, I just liked being on stage. The nun would ask the class  who wanted to read in church and my hand was up first every time.  That was the only reason I liked church. If I wasn’t reading, I HATED going to church. Catholic Church is so long and boring, and all of that ridiculous kneeling and standing and kneeling and sitting and kneeling….Jesus Christ!  Is that shit really necessary? What’s the point of being bored and uncomfortable?

I used to love to look up during the reading and see all of those crazy church goers paying attention to me. I think some of my love of performing came out of a need for attention. I’m not sure about that, but it’s my theory. Everyone in the house competed for attention. It was so hectic because of the business, and even though we were my parents’ priority (kind of), we were always competing with the business. Let’s face it, the funerals were paying the bills, the kids weren’t. And when you have a problem as a kid that you think is big, it’s quickly put into perspective by a family whose loved one died. THAT takes precedence over your problem every time….so a  few extra toys would’ve been nice.

I also got attention by wearing weird clothes, although that wasn’t intentional. I just liked to wear stuff that made no sense, like my mother’s swimming cap. I looked like a mental patient and apparently that was fine with my mom because she let me dress myself, unless I was going to a function and had to look normal. I remember going on a field trip in first grade to some dairy farm. She made me wear a plaid dress that had been worn by both my sisters. Being the third girl sucked because a lot of the clothes I was forced to wear were hand-me-downs, but I managed to put my own style on that ugly shit.

Guess which one I am?

I used to like wearing one of my shirts and then would put one of my brother’s shirts that was way too small for me, over that. I wore rosary beads around my neck on a regular basis, which, by the way, was long before Madonna ever did it. I also had a shirt in 5th grade that said “Praise the Lord,” that was clearly from some weird religious function my parents went to. But I didn’t care, I liked the colors and didn’t give a shit that I probably looked like some weird little Bible thumping creep.

I don’t like leftovers either. Leftovers are the hand-me-downs of food. I like fresh clothes and fresh food. A lot of people like to shop in “vintage” stores, and I just see them as other people’s old clothes that probably stink.

We had a lot of leftovers growing up because my mom didn’t want to cook every night. I understand that, but maybe that’s why I hate them. Three nights in a row of spaghetti? Oh yeah, it happened. And then there was cube steak! This was my most hated meal. Mom would cook the meat with peppers and onions and the flavor was good, but the meat was this chewy, low-grade bullshit. She’d make it on Monday and we’d still be chewing it on Wednesday. It was so gross and I’d often gag from it. Luckily, as the business started growing, the meat got less chewy. By that I mean that as my dad made more money, my mom’s meals got better. She’s a great cook and everything, but if you’re gonna buy meat, you should only have to chew it for one meal…don’t you think?

Chew on this for a while....or a couple of days




About Death To Hollywood

My name is Celeste Donohue and I am a writer/comedian who started this blog to tell stories about my life growing up in a funeral home and my adult life which I have spent in Hollywood, California – hence the name, “Death To Hollywood”. Hopefully, you like to read those kinds of stories. If not, go read something serious and boring.....
This entry was posted in catholic church, death, family, funeral home, funerals and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to Altars Are Just Like Stages…

  1. Josephine says:

    My mom hated to cook too. One time she set up this 7-10 rotating schedule or something, I forget. I know it was supposed to be longer than a week but somehow we ended up having steak every Tuesday for weeks. Maybe she shortened it to make it even simpler when no one noticed but then we did. She was pissed!

    I think it was soon after that she had me start doing the cooking, but I have to admit, I am getting tired of it too. 🙂

    I think you look cute in the bathing cap!

  2. Sorry about the cube steak…my mom made it too. However we thought you guys were the rich ones so thought you were eating better than us…LOL! My favorite food was at the Jawers house. Mrs. J always bought really unusual stuff. Loving the old pictures…really brings back memories AND makes me feel way old!

  3. Kris says:

    Oh my God, Cee…. This is sooo funny! Low grade bullshit is perfect! I hated and still hate cube steak…..Gross! Love the pictures…. You definitely had/have a style all your own!!!!!

  4. "the elder sisiter" says:

    Oh yes, cube steak, it’s the best meal for a person on death row. Who needs a pardon from the govener when you could still be chewing your last meal for weeks!

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