I share my story with the humble intention that someone reading this, who may be in a state of despair or a parent who is worried about their wayward child, will find hope…

Born in 1967 into a lineage of faithful Catholics from German, English, Italian, and Czech decent, I was and remain a cradle Catholic mutt.

Growing up in a port town on Lake Erie, our little city was segregated by European ethnicities, almost all of whom were Catholic.

If you were Irish, you attended St. Patrick.

Of Slavic descent, you attended St. Stans.

Italian, you had a pew at St. Pauls.

Then, there were families who lived in farm country, not far from the city limits. These families attended St. George Church. This was the church of my mother’s upbringing; it would be the church where she and my father would join in Holy Matrimony.

After the wedding they settled in the first floor flat of a house in town. Mom and Dad changed parishes to St. Joseph Church which was within walking distance; it also had it’s own school. This was where I would receive the sacraments of First Reconciliation and First Holy Communion.

We lived in a neighborhood filled with kids who all went to the same school. We were a mixed bag of ethnicities but shared the same faith – which, I would later realize was taken for granted.

Falling into the category of lower-middle class, we couldn’t afford Catholic school once I entered 9th grade.

This is where I found out how unintentionally sheltered we were. I assumed, based on my bubble, that everyone was Catholic. In grade school we learned about the Old Testament Jews and Christians who rejected the Catholic faith – the Protestants.

To my surprise, I found out they actually existed! They went to public school.

I didn’t know if I should be afraid of them or befriend these textbook teens. They were a bit of a novelty for this sheltered child.

One of almost 700 students in my cohort, I graduated with the class of ’85. It was, by far, the biggest school in the area.

A large school had its pros and cons. One could get lost in such an environment. And, one could get lost in such an environment.

Joking aside, there was a clique for everyone. Jocks, preppies, geeks, popular kids, stoners, band kids… there was a group for everyone. Even those who didn’t fit a mold gravitated toward each other. Usually there was no overlap. You stayed in your lane. I was an exception (as were others, I’m sure). I never felt as if I really fit in anywhere.

That was, until I met a group of kids from another school… on the other side of the tracks – literally.

Stay tuned for the next part of my story where things take a change… and chaos kicks in.

In the meantime, please pray for me as I pray for you.