Rev. Richard Antonucci, O. Praem |
“Norbe – who?” I remember asking my friend. We had just entered the then Bishop Neumann High School as young freshmen and were told by Fr. C. Albert Koob, the Principal, that he was a Norbertine and that the Norbertine priests and brothers ran and helped staff the high school. I had never heard of them but that was all to change very quickly.
I was born and raised in South Philadelphia to a family with strong Italian roots. All four of my grandparents were immigrants from Southern Italy and, in fact, my maternal grandmother, Lucia, lived with us all through my childhood and high school years. I had gone to Catholic grade school and made lots of friends. Most of them joined me in transferring to Bishop Neumann High School after eighth grade.
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Rev. Andrew D. Ciferni, O. Praem |
All Good stories are true; some actually happened! Myths are the best stories. They tell us who we are. I was raised hearing at the rituals of festive meals the myth of grandparents who migrated to this land from the Abruzzi region of Italy, that central part of the Italian peninsula held between snowcapped mountains (Easter lamb) and the Adriatic Sea (the seven fishes of Christmas Eve).
I was born on the feast of St. Blase (Feb.3) 1942 -- just two months after Pearl Harbor. My baptismal name is Dominic, the name of my father’s father. Three more sons were born to my parents, Bucky and Millie. My life as a child seemed to center on the St. Edmond Parish Church and School where I was taught by the Sisters Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. From my earliest memories I can identify a fascination with rituals of all kinds: from the five a.m. Sunday Mass that I served as an altarboy to every account I could read of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth. I attended Bishop Neumann High School where I came to know the Norbertines, men who encouraged my intellectual and spiritual development and who impressed me by their common life and prayer.
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Rev. John Zagarella, O. Praem |
Somewhere in the midst of my grade school years at Epiphany of Our Lord in South Philly, I realized that I found something intriguing about the lives of the priests and sisters that educated me there. This intrigue was truly an adventure into the great unknown for me, as I was initially a product of the public school system. That is, until I begged my parents to take me out of public school and into Epiphany, because that was where most of my friends attended school. At least that was the conscious motivation of an 8 year-old boy. Talk about surprised! My parents had educated my older brother and sister in the public school system, so they had every reason to believe that their youngest son would do the same. By Christmas of Third Grade, I was receiving my education about things intellectual and spiritual under the guidance of the Sisters of Saint Joseph. Like all parish schools, the priests of the local diocese had a constant presence among the student body, and because of their fine example, I felt moved to investigate what it might be like to be an altar boy. So, less than a year after my move into Catholic school, I was in training to serve as an altar boy.
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