Song Of Bernadette

Photo Coverage: Bernadette Peters at the Bronx Zoo

Song of Bernadette: An Irish-Catholic Mother's Tale : Ms Magazine Blog

The 20th century Ireland of my mother’s childhood was marked with class distinction, the stigma attached to poorness inescapable. The Catholic Church influenced everything. Irish children attended Catholic schools where nuns, priests and brothers often stifled potential and crushed dreams. 

There was much these children had to overcome. My mother was born a lefty, but in Catholic school in Ireland writing with your left hand was sinful, so the nuns beat her left knuckles raw. Soon she was permanently righteous.  Her sister Angela mispronounced a word while reading out loud in class. The nun, so frustrated with the nine-year-old’s incompetence, shoved the book hard into Angela’s face. The glasses she wore shattered and cut into her cheeks and eyelids. Angela never volunteered to read in class again.

My mother’s other sister, Rose, was late to school one wet Irish morning. The nun told her not to come to her class late and slammed the door in her face. Eight hours later, when school was dismissed for the day, Rose was still outside in the rain. The nun had forgotten about her. Rose developed a cold that turned into pneumonia. She suffered hair loss from the stress. Hair grows back, but self-esteem doesn’t regenerate so easily. Seamus, the only boy in the family, rarely mentions his school days.

Years later, in their early 20s, my mother and Angela hitchhiked across Europe. They stayed in Madrid for a while and got jobs in a bar. One night, an airman in the U.S. Air Force,walked in and ordered a gin from the cute Irish bartender. My mom and dad were soon married and moved to the United States; they celebrated their 38 wedding anniversary in March. 

I grew up visiting Ireland every year and hearing my mother, her four sisters and one brother reminisce all night with stories from their Irish Catholic childhoods.  “You can sleep when you’re dead,” my Uncle Seamus would tell his sisters, urging them to stay awake. “Have another drink.” They chatted into the morning, telling hilarious stories with renowned Irish wit. But behind their deep-set eyes I could see sadness. It was clear that emotional scars remained.

When I ask my mother why she left Ireland, she hesitates and then says, “It took me years to understand why I left. I suppose I wanted to live life on my own terms. I’d always be stifled as Bernie McGovern in Ireland. When I landed on American soil, I was Bernadette San Pietro. I redefined myself.

The Song of Bernadette

Song of Bernadette, A Mother's Memoir of a Daughter

The song of Bernadette

The song of Bernadette

The song of Bernadette