The Homeless Cake

I’ve driven the miracle mile before, but never with a twelve pound cake teetering precariously on the front passenger seat. Sunday 9:00am: I pick up the cake in question – not just your run-of-the-mill baked good, but my daughter’s confirmation cake at the bakers. Then I slowly make my way from the bakers, driving at the breakneck speed of 10mph careful not to come to any abrupt stops. I was supposed to drop off the cake and other assorted sweets off at the reception hall where the function was to take place later that day. But its doors were closed. So there I was lugging it around town – instigating a cortege of vehicles wherever I went; trying to placate all the irate drivers that I met on my odyssey with a shrug of the shoulders. Meeting with the well-wishes of their middle fingers.

In the end it finally reached its destination and my daughter was confirmed later that day – a holy sacrament where all good Catholics reaffirm their faith. It’s sort of like a religious booster shot. Most other cultures and their respective religions - both modern and primitive have incorporated the right of passage to demarcate a change in social status and all that this transformation accords within their cultural frameworks. Catholicism, on the other hand, is heavy on indoctrination. Amen to that brothers and sisters … amen!