wading nuns: story prompt
This photograph was taken by Toni Frissell:
Toni Frissell (1907-1988) began her career as a photojournalist and fashion photographer about the time Frances Benjamin Johnston's was winding down. She demonstrated a versatility equal to Johnston's in her work as a staff photographer for Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, and Sports Illustrated and in her publication of several photographically illustrated books, ranging from A Child's Garden of Verses (1944) to The King Ranch, 1939-1944 (1975).The Library of Congress holds a huge collection of Frissell's work. The stuff I like best are the candid shots like this one of the nuns wading. I'm not sure what they've been collecting in their buckets, but they look like they're having fun on this early morning adventure.
I had some wonderful nuns as teachers when I was a kid. Women who were strong without being overbearing, clever, innovative, and sometimes, distinctly odd. Some of them were really funny and fun; others were a little scarier because they demanded a lot. I can't think of one nun who was cruel. I remember a nun I didn't have as a teacher who used to shout when she got aggravated: you kids are going to drive me to drink!
There were so many good and comfortable things about the convent attached to my grade and high school. It radiated calm certainty and cooperation and dedication. It smelled of lemon wax and starched linen and lavender. It was immensely appealing to a kid like me, because if my mother was at home, she was most likely drunk, and if she was just drunk enough but not too drunk, she zeroed in on what a good idea it would be to tell me what a disappointment I was and would always be. If she was very drunk there would be other complications. Screaming was a certainty. Often there were messes of such magnitude these days might call for a hazardous biological waste clean up. Sometimes trips to the emergency room. On a few memorable occasions, all three.
Nuns did have moods. They got mad or impatient at times, but generally they were supportive of me and encouraging. I can hardly remember any of them ever talking about religion. The priests came in to teach cathecism, the nuns stood off to the side and looked like they were thinking of something else. Except in fourth grade, when obviously something else was going on because one of the nuns left the convent to marry one of the priests who taught cathecism, so you know, points for that bit of devilry.
So it's probably no big surprise that I have relentlessly good memories of these women, idealized to some extent. I will always have positive memories about convents, too. If only you didn't have to believe in God -- in one very specific God -- to enter a convent, I might have done that at one point in my life.
I look at this photograph and I'm reminded of the School Sisters of Saint Francis, who taught at my school, because they wore habits that were very similar. Stiff white linen around their faces and in a wide bib that covered shoulders and upper chest. These two look like they like to do things together, and they're not afraid to get muddy when they find something interesting to look at. My guess is that one of them is an art teacher. She tells her students not to be afraid of the paint, that art isn't greedy or narrow. Art embraces life! The other one is probably the housekeeper in the convent. She oversees the novitiates as they do the housework and does most of the cooking. She experiments with spices, which once in a while gets her in hot water. The two of them go to protest rallies together and take students along for the experience.
They've got stories to tell.