My Confirmation Day - Evelyn Jane

Long-time subscriber Patti Lynn, of Busselton, WA, sent us these reminiscences by her friend Evelyn. The two used to attend Mass together at St Peter’s Shoreham, Victoria.

About thirty-five young people were confirmed at St Mary’s Church Hastings a few weeks ago. The event reminded me of the day I was confirmed at that same church just over eighty years ago, when i was only eight years old.

The original little wooden church is still there, but it has been moved further along to the corner of the church grounds and is used as a childcare centre.

So many years ago, yet it all comes back to me so clearly. In those days, the priest rode a horse from Mornington for the monthly Mass at St Peter’s Shoreham. He said I was too young, but Dad persisted. He had been a widower for two years and had eight children aged from thirteen to the baby who was three.

The older ones, Grace, Clarry and Alan, had obviously been confirmed, probably five years earlier, so that left Francie, Ronny and hopefully (for Dad) myself. Because of the distance and lack of transport, it could be another four or five years before the next Confirmation.

Father asked how much of the Catechism did I know, and I can still hear Dad saying, ‘Just between the covers, Father!’ And I did. I had been learning three questions every night forever it seemed, and I could recite them parrot-fashion. Not that I understood it, but it was the routine before prayers and bedtime every night. I had made my first Communion at the previous Mass, in my elder sister’s summer frock—no white dress or veil in those days in country Shoreham.

The great day came. It was a very hot day, and we had to walk down the hill along Higgins Lane to the main road to catch Wally Trounson’s old Tourer car. On the way down I could see Dad’s back covered with flies. Naturally, I shooed them away, and they flew into Dad’s face—and that was a mistake!

Wally’s car was a large three-seater, all wheels, canvas top and celluloid side-curtains, and already he had a couple of passengers. One was a lady from Flinders, who had her two small boys with her, was being confirmed too.

I had a new dress for the occasion; probably my grandmother May made it. It was a shift-like affair, white with tiny pink stripes and ties at the hips.

I can’t remember much about the ceremony, except when it came to kissing the bishop’s ring. I obviously showed my reluctance, but of course one look from Dad and I promptly obeyed unquestioningly.

There were refreshments afterwards, sandwiches, cakes and tea. I’m sure I would have remembered if there had been lemonade or such for the children.

Then the homeward trip, a long walk back up the hill. Thankfully the flies weren’t as bad then. It was a memorable day for an eight-year-old.