Mea Culpa
My wife and I were married in Rome, in the Catholic Church. I'm not Roman Catholic, but it was a lot easier to do than had Carla and I been married in the U.S. where the rules are far more draconian. It involved nothing more than my meeting with our local parish priest and answering a bunch of questions. I'd only been in Italy a few months at the time, and my Italian was spotty at best, but the priest was a jolly sort who wouldn't be deterred. As he asked each question, such as the one about making Catholic teachings available to any eventual offspring, he nodded vigorously or shook his head, cueing me as to the expected answer. I have no idea what all I may have agreed to, but there's a good chance that after 38 years I've broken my promises to him, the pope, and God more than once. I confess.
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posted by John M Crowther @ 8:05 AM
1 Comments:
My suspicion is that while that kindly priest fed you the right answers and you nodded in agreement without knowing precisely what it was you were agreeing to, you undoubtedly committed to burning in Hell for all eternity should you not keep your promises. That’s the bad news. The good news is that given the right dispensation you can get an air-conditioned room in either the writers or artists building.
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