I decided to go to church this Sunday. I wasn’t tired and I hadn’t been there in a long time, so I went. I can hardly stand going to church anymore, I’m usually tired from Saturday night, but I go once in a while to make an appearance and to look at the pretty girls. Those girls, I think, go to show off in the shortest and prettiest dresses I’ve ever seen. I wonder if they know that they keep poor bastards like me from falling asleep. The older people are so pomp and pious, keeping track of how much we put in the collection box. They stare at you if you wear jeans or if you leave during communion. There are a couple of reasons why I don’t like church anymore. It’s not because I’m tired, because I’m tired most of the time. I went every school day from fourth to eighth grade with nuns watching and making sure you went in. I swear I knew every word and move the priest made up there.

Also, when I go to church, I don’t feel like this is my mass. Now, it is as a social event, people dressing up in their best clothes, making grand appearances, and after church, chattering about absurdity, frivolity. I wonder what these people are thinking. A baby is hungry and doesn’t know what’s going on. He knows only of the meal that awaits him at service’s end. Billy sees Johnny and thinks to catch him after church to see if he wants to play football. Ted fantasizes about Doris in that red miniskirt, he just has to talk to her after church, make small talk. Mom is wondering if she should cook breakfast. Dad is thinking about afternoon football.

I think grandpa and grandma are sincere. They’ve seen this before, know of their mortality, and know better. So if it stays the same, I will probably be sincere when I’m their age too. But I don’t think these few Masses will make up for everything, and maybe I won’t live until 60, and then what will I do?

Hope I helped.