Remembering the Good Sisters
It’s easy to remember the really big days of childhood, the big learning days, those days when
the mystery and wonder of very big things were unveiled. I remember walking single file, quietly
and reverently, with my second-grade classmates to our first-ever Friday afternoon at the Fall
Bazaar.
Being held in the church basement made it reverent. It felt spiritual and mysterious as we
walked to the church, but I had no idea there were names for those feelings. I also knew it was
special because of the dollar bill in my pocket, a donation from my parents.
We’d been well schooled about acceptable bazaar conduct. All the small fry, especially us first
timers, spent lots of time and money at the fish pond. Bait was only 10 cents and the clothespin
hooks always brought up some little toy, sometimes edible rubbery fish. I learned the prizes
came quicker and better at the far end of the pond where my friend’s mother was working.
But fishing dollars dwindled, and, with only time to spend, we investigated the many other
exciting activities at the Fall Bazaar. There were game booths with tests of strength, speed and
agility for the older kids with lines to skip, hoops to jump and holes to hop. There was throwing
contests galore: rings onto pegs, sand bags into frogmouths and more. Everyone won little
prizes and even a little bit bigger prizes.
The food and candy were heavenly and mostly homemade. It was a sugar free-for-all and we
had special Bazaar dispensations. I learned to identify flavors by their color that day. The cupcakes were so light that the paper cups flew away like angel wings and the cakes
floated like holy spirits up to our mouths. I also learned to cross my eyes ogling those cakes all the way to my mouth. The
sugar was running freely and so were we.
Suddenly, our little starry eyes beheld for the first time ever the “Big Wheel". It was anchored and spinning front and center on the church basement's main stage.
It was steeple tall and amazingly confusing
with numbers, letters and special prize names placed near it's outer edge. It was brightly
multi-colored with sparkles that shone like stars under the intense, hellishly hot lights. When the
operator gave it an almighty spin it produced a terrific buzzing sound like a thousand playing
cards clothespinned onto bicycle tires. A single full turn of the Big Wheel took forever and tension and excitement grew as it continued it's spinning and buzzing. It was spinning almost out of
control under those bright lights while miraculously creating another holy winner.
The Big Wheel’s workers were focused, selling tickets and hustling amongst the seated adults. The prizes were lifetime quality. Big cash amounts, of course, but the best prizes were the
beautiful handmade quilts, materials and tailoring donated by the quilt ladies who had a
special knowhow about working your way into heaven. We soon learned that the Big Wheel
was the real deal. We could only observe, being just second graders, and the ticket cost was big
also. We knew you had to know what you were doing when you purchased a ticket and from
which worker you got it
Now that us second graders are 60 plus years older, we’ve learned
that life isn’t much different than that first Fall Bazaar. The games go on and the food is still tasty,
even if doctors limit any special dispensations.
The Big Wheel keeps on turnin’ — but the prizes have changed a bit. The best prize could be “five or ten more years of good health” or “good things for our loved
ones”.
I remember the Good Sisters telling us that the bazaar would be fun, that the money was going to
good works and not to be afraid. It’s still true.
A good life should be fun and enjoyed, some of your time, talents and treasures should go to
good works, and don’t be afraid.