He name was Sr. Victorine Kean, a Sister of Mercy for 61 years, and I met her on my first day of school. That day was filled with fear for me. Having no older siblings to pave the way, my mother accompanied me to the opening mass before the students made their way to the school. I became so agitated I was physically ill. Mom tried to reassure me that everything would be OK. It was the end of mass and the first graders were to line up with their teacher…and there she was. To this first grader, Sr. Victorine was tall, swathed in black except for the white starched whimple and a smile that was glowing and comforting. I left my fretful mother to accompany this nun to class, where all fears melted away and learning began. I returned home for lucnch with my anxious mother, and her fears were also assuaged.

Sr. Victorine passed away a few years back. I owe a great debt to her because, at a time that was pre-Sesame Street and pre Electric Company, Sr. Victorine taught me to read, and I will forever be thankful to God and her for so great a gift. I located her grave recently at the catholic cemetery in town and gave her a big “Thank You”. And somewhere deep within me…I know I saw her smile.