How I became intoxicated with religion

Sometime in the years before I started school, there was a particular Sunday when something special was going on that afternoon at our home parish of Saint Clement (pope and martyr). Seated at the dinner table, I remember my sister Toni expressing an interest in attending this event. Hearing this I quickly said I too wanted to go. As was often the case, my mother dismissed the idea immediately, but my sister offered that she would be willing to take me and keep an eye on my behavior ( In my family, we were expected to be the soul of good behavior in public-despite what was going on at home, but that is a matter for other posts). Off we went, and I must have been very young because I remember little of the service except communion time. At that time, Catholics approached the altar rail and knelt to receive the sacrament (host only in those day-wine was for the priest alone). So, off we went my sister and I. I knelt beside Toni knowing I was too young to partake of the holy meal. Then, for an instant either as the person to my right or as my sister was given the host on her tongue, the priest whisked by and for a moment I was enveloped in his chasuble (a yoke like vestment). I was captivated! What my young mind and imagination perceived in that moment was pure MYSTERY. I was intoxicated and knew that I wanted more. I was not to be disappointed!