Zorro and My Uncle Tony’s Sword

“Out of the night

When the full moon is bright,

Comes a masked man known as “Zorro”.

This bold renegade

Carves a  ‘Z’ with his blade,

A  ‘Z’ that stands for “Zorro”

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.  Again,” I said. 

“What is it this week, Jerry?” he said. It always frustrated me when he responded like that, not only because he always recognized my voice, even when I tried to disguise it, but also because I assumed everyone knew I didn’t like to be called by that nickname, which was the same one that they used for a sweet girl in our class, Geraldine Tomlin.

“Well…I had bad thoughts again, you know, about girls and…” I said. (I never ever used the word “sex” because that was too dirty for an nine year-old like me to use).

“Yes.  Go on?” he said.

“…well, I used my Uncle Tony’s sword, the real one he brought home when he fought in Italy during the war… it was a carabinieri sword…and, well…I used it to cut down Mrs. Perry’s flowers.  She’s a neighbor,” I said.

“…and why did you do that, Jerry?” he sighed.

“Well, it was Halloween last week and I went as Zorro again… like last year. But this year, instead of  having to wear a stupid black cowboy hat, I had a gaucho hat that my mom got for me at Woolworth’s.  The one she got me had little red pong balls all around it like the ones you see sometimes on the windows of those low-rider cars, but I cut them off because Zorro doesn’t have pong balls on his hat.  So this year I was hoping no one would mistake me for a cowboy like they did last year, even when I had on a black cape like the one Zorro wears.  And so, this year, since my costume was almost perfect, I asked my Uncle Tony Scarpello, he’s married to Mag, my Mom’s sister…if I could use his real sword and he said ‘yes’…but only if I promised I wouldn’t take it out of its scabbard.”  

I took a deep breath after providing background and context.  Then I continued.  “But I did take it out…as soon as I got out of our house and my friend Ralphie and I went out trick or treating.  And you know…well…” I said.

“…So, not only did you again entertain dirty thoughts about girls, this last week you disobeyed your uncle…and then also decided to show off and use his sword to cut down your neighbor’s flowers?” he said, neatly summarizing my sins in his thick Irish brogue. “And did you know at the time that this was the wrong thing to do?” he continued.

“Yes,” I said.  “But it was a real sword so…”.   I was perspiring heavily by now as I always did in the confessional when I had to admit the gravity of my thoughts and deeds.

In the long pause that ensued in the darkness of that chamber, like the ones that almost always followed my admissions of guilt, I squirmed with embarrasment.  And it always seemed worse because I knew Father Heffernan knew it was me, even in the dark privacy of the the confessional, likely because I was one of his altar boys.

“Hmmm.  Well then, for your penance, Son, you must say three ‘Hail Mary’s’”

“Oh thank you, Father!”  I blurted out in relief.

“I’m not finished, Jerry.  And then you must go to Mrs. Perry’s house and apologize to her,” he said.

The severity of this penance stunned me.  I started sweating again thinking of what this meant.  Mrs. Perry house was the fourth from the last on my 4:00 AM paper route and I only interacted with her when I went there once a month on my collections.   Forgiveness by God in the absolution administered by Father Heffernan, was usually accomplished by an easily performed, private task commensurate with the severity of my sins.  “Bad thoughts” almost always only required three Hail Marys.   In this instance however, I had to apologize to someone who knew me only as the awkward, quiet paperboy who delivered the morning Post Intelligencer.   To make it worse, although I understood that Mrs. Perry didn’t have to forgive me in order for God to do so, I realized that by apologizing in person she would know my face, my being, my mind and soul in a much different, not so innocent way!  And, I would be exposed…a marked man in the neighborhood! And unlike the behavior of the real Zorro who only did good, robbed the rich and rescued the helpless, the masked Zorro doppelganger I represented that night had used his sword and mask for nefarious purposes.  

I thought again about the context and events leading up to my transgression and realized that the angel who followed Ralphie and me around our neighborhood that rainy Halloween night must have gotten a promotion afterwards.  Ralphie, who again had chosen to be a pirate, and my fat little version of “Zorro” trudged from house to house with other kids in the fading light of October’s last day, hoping to fill our loot bags with enough candy to last us until Thanksgiving.  

Unfortunately, unlike Ralphie who was smart enough to use a pillow case for his cache-bag, I used a big paper grocery sack.  As convincing as my costume was, with black cape, gaucho hat, black mud boots and a real sword that came up to my chest, it was impossible to manage the sack, the unsheathed sword and scabbard while trying to avoid tripping over my cape.  My mask kept slipping down, temporarily blinding me so I couldn’t see that my paper sack had started deteriorating in the rain. 

By the time we reached the home of Mrs. Ward, I was thoroughly disoriented and forgot that the previous year she was the neighbor who had given us toothbrushes instead of candy.  This year, Mrs. Ward, who was a kind, well-meaning but misguided lady, had decided to give us APPLES as our “treat!”  Just as Ralphie and I opened our sacks and said “Trick or Treat”, she dropped a large Macintosh apple from a foot above my open sack.  It plowed right through the soggy bottom, spilling its contents, the spoils of two hours worth of trick-or-treating, all over her porch.   Ralphie ran away laughing hysterically as other trick-or-treating kids scrambled to pick up my lost fortune. To make it all the worse, Mrs. Ward told me what a cute “cowboy” costume I was wearing.

By the time I reached Mrs. Perry’s home I was despondent with nothing to show for all my efforts.  That’s when I cut down the flowers…a few late blooming Dahlias and Chrysanthemums, I recall.  Did I do that it from frustration or pride?  Or was I showing off for Ralphie and the other kids, just as Father Heffernan had surmised?

I’ll never know, but before I returned home that evening, I tried putting the sword in its scabbard and it stuck with eight inches of the blade showing…because I forgot that the sword was curved and I had put it in backwards.  Uncle Tony and my parents were at the house waiting for our return.  God, via his guardian angel, had sent me a message.

As I pushed and pulled the sword to free it, I began sweating and praying. I promised that if God let me get the sword unstuck and unbroken, I would be really really really good for the rest of my life. 

Suddenly, the sword became unstuck and I almost cried in relief.  But now I was stuck with fulfilling a vow provoked by my blind stupidity.

After that confession to Father Heffernan, I returned two days later to apologize to Mrs. Perry.  Ralphie accompanied me because, as a Presbyterian, he wanted to watch how Catholics dealt with small sins like this, which he didn’t really think was a sin in any case.  

How embarrassingly daunting was it for me to fulfill this penance?  Well, I hovered a few houses away for an hour trying to summon the courage to face her.  

She forgave me.

And I never dressed as Zorro on Halloween or unsheathed that sword again….because, as my Grandma Louise subsequently cautioned me “He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword”. In my own unique way, I really understood what she meant.

Happy Halloween!

In Memory for my friend Ralphie (Ralph Wayne Thomas, September 1947-August 2005)…and for all our childhood memories and innocence.