I wasn't always a nun, you know. I'm quite aware of humanness. No, I try not judge people. I try to accept them just as they are and hope they'll accept me as I am." And how's that?" I asked, curious. This was no ordinary nun, I thought and then smiled. I didn't know any nuns at all. How would I know ordinary?"Most days I'd like to think that I'm a daughter of God, that I've given my life over to his care, but the fact is, quite often my ego gets in the way. And my humanness."Laughing, I said, "I know about ego, but what do you mean about humanness?" Goodness, how'd I get into this?" You don't have to talk about anything that's uncomfortable." Yes, I know, but strange as it sounds, I think I'd like to. I need to be honest. Perhaps I need to be honest with myself... honest outside the confessional. Somehow that doesn't seem to count, the confessional I mean. The anonymity serves to protect me from the bare truth." You on the lamb or somthin', MJ? You know, church collections or. The tax expert kept the deception simple. The biggest expense for the rehearsal space became rent. He minimized the actual rent; a favor for three years of sponsoring my mother in the middle of the depression. The tax expert was ugly, unable to attract companionship without paying for it. She liked him despite his gaunt and pock marked face. I did too. Except for keeping money from the government that they could probably have used, he was a good man. Careful with his money, he negotiated keenly with mom and kept his sponsorship to a minimum. We lived comfortably, but he felt guilty about his spendthrift nature. Mother used the guilt along with his fondness for her to gain favors. His sponsorship ended happily. He found a woman who loved him. She carried substantial fat on her body but had a beautiful face and a kind soul. Their children turned out attractive. One had a filled out version of his features, the boy. The girl grew up as pretty as her mom but without the fat. The whole.
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