Bowtie & Bangs: How to be a Catholic Cutie on your Baptism Day!
I was baptized in Kindergarten at St. Gabriel’s church on West Vernor Highway in Detroit. I remember how cool I felt with my hair slicked back with Brylcreem, standing tall in my ironed white shirt, tucked deep into my single-pleated black slacks — and Sunday socks, too. To complete the look, a white-stripe bowtie was gently clipped into my collar as I slipped my feet into my highly buffed, Sunday best shoes. Mom made sure I didn’t muss my hair as I carefully placed my arms in a new, beige trench coat. Damn, I looked good! So fine! I’m not sure the 1967 Detroit fashion scene was quite ready for this.
My brothers and I lined up at the baptismal font as Father Anthony Bologna smiled and welcomed me, Roy, Valentino, Mom, Dad and our Godparents Chicho and Esther. I wish I could tell you what it felt like the moment Father Bologna splashed my forehead with holy water; I’d be lying if I told you I remember the words spoken. Instead, I remember the quiet walk home. I couldn’t stop looking at the tops of my black, shiny shoes as we stepped off the curb and crossed the street to the block-long walk-ups where we lived. Our bolted door squeaked open and all three of us boys ran up the stairs. Grandpa Joe was at the top of the stairs patting his belly and laughing. (He was always patting his belly, it seemed.) We pushed past Grandpa and headed…
