Laughing in the Dark

Despite all the awful things that were happening, there were good times as well.  Going out to Baskin and Robbins for ice cream could actually be filled with lots of fun.  Treats were less common than in real life so something this simple was cause for a mini-celebration.    There was the time when Formation hiked Eagle Creek in the Columbia River Gorge.  We came back exhausted but really pleased by our outdoorsy accomplishment.


We would sometimes enjoy the use of the convent beach house.  This large, wonderful house sat on the edge of the beach on the Oregon coast.  Once there, we'd change into civilian clothes and enjoy an almost normal life.  On one of these trips, we discovered that we would be sharing the house with one of the diocesan priests.  There was a room on the first floor that had an adjoining bathroom.  This bathroom had a door from the room and from the enclosed porch.  Father had this room.  As we were busy cleaning up the house before leaving to head back to the valley, Sister David opened the bathroom door from the enclosed porch thinking it was a broom closet.  Instead, she opened the door on Father who was using the bathroom at the time.  In a panic, Sister David ran to tell us what had happened.  Sister Philip and I laughed so hard, we cried. 

Father, who was less embarrassed than Sister David  (He'd grown up with sisters for siblings.)  attempted to find Sister David to tell her that it was just an accident and not to worry.  She was so embarrassed she tried to elude just such a meeting and scurried around the large beach house with Father closely behind.  At this point, I was almost on the floor with laughter.  Of all of us, Sister David was the most squeamish.  She didn't even like anyone to touch her wet laundry and her "things" which was code for underwear.  We used to tease her about her "things" just to get her going.

Sister David, Philip and I were soon a tight knit group, one that the powers that be would often try to break up saying we were a bad influence on each other.  They accused me of being the ring leader and the most negative of influences.  It didn't stop us from getting together every chance we could.  We helped each other cope largely through laughter.  We lived in a rather insane world with the inept in charge.  Our world was rich fodder for the wickedly amusing.  We had nicknames and code words for so many things we'd almost developed our own language.  In the face of much sadness and trauma, we found room to laugh.

One summer evening, the young Sisters joined one of the bishops that lived on the convent grounds for a trip to Rose's for dessert.  As the day gave way to evening, we drove up the tree-lined lane on the convent grounds toward the bishops house, when Sister David spotted what she thought was a wounded bird in the road ahead.  She insisted the bishop stop the car.  She got out to survey the bird and soon slunk back into the car seat, colored a deep shade of red.  Within seconds, Sister Philip and I figured out what had happened.  The bishop asked Sister David how the bird was and she struggled to formulate an answer.  In the back seat we laughed even harder.  It wasn't a wounded bird in the road.  It was two birds mating.  Noticing Sister David's discomfort, the bishop looked at the birds again and suddenly realized what was really happening.  He started to blush and stutter.  Sister Philip and I laughed so hard I almost wet myself.

The day Sister David found the crotchless underwear on the older Sisters clothesline, she had to come get us.  We stood under an outdoor clothesline laughing like crazy people.    Exactly what was so funny, I don't remember but I do remember the tears of laughter and how this discovery, made us smile for days.  Sister David was a natural comedienne.  Tall, double-jointed, she had a physical presence that lent it self to physical humor.  She was and still is laughter waiting to happen.  Of all the young people in Formation, Sister David always struck me as the most "nun-like" the most naturally suited to a religious life.  She left the convent shortly after I did and had years of interesting adventures, even teaching in Saudi Arabia during the first Gulf War.  Later, in life she entered a Franciscan order which seems like the perfect match.  We helped celebrate her final vows with the Franciscans.  It seems that she was finally able to find a home, a place where she belongs and has much to offer.

The laughter that we shared bound us together.  We had a common enemy and a common goal.  Once I left the closeness of our friendship began to unravel.  We remain in contact with each other but our connection isn't the same.  Each of us left for our own reasons.  While we were together in the convent, we desperately needed each other.  We enjoyed one of the closest friendships I've ever had.  Part of me will always miss them and the laughter we shared.  We were laughing in the dark.  It's not such a bad way to enter the lion's den.  Each of us would have to face our lion alone.