My Dad’s Confession

My Dad moved to St. Emydius parish in San Francisco when he was 8 years old and he lived with his sister and parents there on Westwood Drive until he and Mom married in 1936. Dad was very friendly with the priests of St. Emydius during the 30s, especially Father (later Monsignor) Leo Powleson, and the two shared a great interest in college football and professional baseball. In those days Catholics used to go to confession every week or so and Dad would often try to disguise his voice so the priest wouldn’t recognize him. One Saturday afternoon Dad felt pretty smug with his fake voice as he exited the confessional and began to kneel at a nearby pew to say his three Hail Marys when he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Father Powleson! “Hey Don,” he whispered, “What’s the score of the Notre Dame game?”