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I just had a rather startling revelation about how weird my childhood was. At my parents' house when I was a kid, we had - have, probably, it's probably still on the shelf in the hall closet with the stray mittens and the half-roll of wallpaper - this board game from God-knows-where. It was sort of Catholic Trivial Pursuit, full of little cards with variously-categorized questions about Catholic doctrine, decorated with illumination-style capitals and flourishes. It was called Catechic.
And we played it. Voluntarily. And checked disputed answers against the copy of the Catholic catechism in the downstairs bathroom, the four-translations-in-one parallel bible, the concordance before Mom loaned it my brother's Protestant girlfriend and never saw it again or, failing all else, my mother herself.
God, it's no wonder I turned out like this.
And we played it. Voluntarily. And checked disputed answers against the copy of the Catholic catechism in the downstairs bathroom, the four-translations-in-one parallel bible, the concordance before Mom loaned it my brother's Protestant girlfriend and never saw it again or, failing all else, my mother herself.
God, it's no wonder I turned out like this.