Ashes, Ashes, I Fall Down
Issue 123
Dearest friends,
Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, and Ash Wednesday rolled into one. Does it get bigger?
Even with the power of Google, I don’t know the significance of Ash Wednesday. I believe, though, that the ashes are Jesus’ (and the forehead is yours). Valentine’s Day, well, it has something to do with love.
Ash Wednesday holds a special place in my heart as the protagonist in a story of how religiously unaware I was in college—and apparently still am.
I'm in Italian class at Boston University, and my teacher calls on the woman beside me. I look over, and to my dismay, this poor woman has shit all over her face—blissfully unaware of how stupid she looks.
I like my Italian teacher a lot, but I’m disappointed. She’s choosing pride over saving this woman's soul from utter embarrassment. Imagine the worst "broccoli in your teeth" moment, and nobody says a word.
After class, we all file onto Comm Ave., and I notice several, if not dozens, of people with shit on their faces. Something is up—it turns out that Ash Wednesday is up, and I’m the dummy.
Photos of the Week
At 77 I still don’t know what Ash Wednesday is; and decided long ago I didn’t need to. Ashes to ashes anyways. M
“Shit on her face” is sooo good. As a product of 12 years of Catholic education, all I can say is that I felt so holy and “proving I was a sanctimonious person, sure to enter heaven” because the proof was on my forehead. JFC