Santa and me
When we last met, B.A. Santamaria and I were brothers in the war against communism. I can't say we were comrades, as that wouldn't be apt. Since B.A. only recruited menfolk to his secret armies, the sisters never really got a look in. So it was always boys against bolshevism for B.A. and preferably sons of the Church at that.
We were scheduled to gather as a body each week for discussions in a secret location in inner city Melbourne. When it came my turn to address the gathering on the topic of Why we are in Vietnam (it being 1967 at the time), B.A. unexpectedly arrived and sat next to me.
I don't know about you, but with the country's number one anticommunist up close and personable, all I could think about was making a good impression — as one would hope to do during an exam or job interview. I delivered my message straight down the line like my church's catechism: We are in Vietnam because ...
During discussion B.A.'s praise of my presentation was fulsome. I'd been given the nod by our army's commanding officer and, no doubt, the whole Catholic Church would appreciate my efforts. Maybe Santa could put in a good word and I'd get a Christmas card from the pope, or be granted a special discount on next month's penance.
But there was one catch: I never went back.
In fact, I don't think I'd be here today doing what I do if I had not once upon a time addressed the topic of Why we are in Vietnam in front of such an audience.
For this I must thank Bartholomew Augustine Santamaria, who in harnessing my political potential cured me of the anti communism I suffered from. In trying to answer the question of why we are in Vietnam I came to the exact opposite conclusions to B.A.
Within 18 months I fused with Santa's nemesis and formally signed on as a card-carrying communist.
So the joke's on you, B.A. Santamaria. I've been wallowing in moral decline since last we met. I crossed over to the other side and thoroughly recommend it.
Now you get the state funeral not because you did right by the Bible or humankind. You get the state funeral because you were a lackey who worked his butt off so that those who suffered under this social system continued to do so.
Or am I being rude and inconsiderate?
Poor dead Santa, the man who convinced a generation of Catholic working people to forgo their best interests for the sake of some heavenly reward.
Saints preserve us! May we never see his like again.
Dave Riley