THE VILLAGE NON-PRIEST PRIEST

He was short and round with a fringe of hair around his

ball-shaped head.  He wore a clerical collar with his black suit. 

As I passed his diminutive store to get Mother a loaf of day-old

bread at the bakery or to get another book from the library, he

would usually be sitting out front of his store in a cane-bottomed

chair, shaded by an extended tin roof. Other times, he would on the

porch of his house which was connected to the store.  Here, sitting

at a card table with students, he would be teaching courses that

were not taught in the local public school, such as German or

French. 

I'd visit Father Griffin almost every day.  I'd stop by on the

way home after running an errand or go down the hill from our house

to sit and talk with him.  If I had money, I'd go into the store,

where there were two candy counters with shelves behind them and a

Coco-Cola box at the end.  With a penny, I'd choose a banana

caramel, bubble gum or a peanut butter log.  If I were fortunate

enough to have a nickel, I'd gamble and take a punch on the

punch board and hope to win a Val-o-milk.  Sometimes I'd buy a

Grapette from the Coco-Cola box.

I loved Father Griffin.  He always made me feel important

because he would listen to me and talk to me as though I was a

grown-up.

One time I asked Father Griffin why he did not go to church.

He said that he had been excommunicated.  I tried to talk to Mother

about that  but she just put on her frowning look.  I also

asked her about Mrs. Henderson who was his housekeeper and had a

room in his house.  Again, Mother only frowned and did not respond.

I never knew what happened to Father Griffin.  Just one day he

was gone and his store was closed.  Some said that he was doing

prison ministry.  Others later said  that he was in a nursing home.  

I'm sorry I do not know.  Father Griffin was important to me.