The Sisterhood Is Powerful

I am not one of those folks who have a warmly sentimental (and largely patronizing) feeling towards nuns. No maudlin Bells of St. Mary’s BS for me. No “isn’t Sister Bertrille cute?” No gutsy Mother Superior holding the carburetor – or whatever that was – the kept the Nazis from hopping into their staff car and going after the Von Trapp family. Not even – as much as I liked the movie – Whoopie Goldberg in Sister Act.

Too much time logged up close and personal with those nuns from the era of Church Triumphant, when I was in school in the 1950’s and 1960’s.

Not that they were all psychotics and sadists, completely ill-suited to be around children.

For every crackpot who told a bunch of six year olds who’d put their arms across the aisle to block a boy’s passage back from the blackboard that they were going to reform school, there was one who was kind and pleasant, and maybe even a decent teacher. And I’ve met many, many nuns over the years who were just fabulous people: good, smart, kind, honest, funny, and absolutely driven to do good work.

But back to that first grade teacher – who was by no means an aberration - as if reform school weren’t bad enough on its own, if those bad boys brought lunch, that would be their last meal ever. If not, breakfast was going to be it. So, as if reform school weren’t bad enough on its own, you were going to starve to death. But wait, there’s more! Sister Marie Leo’s capper: “And I hope you kissed your mother goodbye, because you’re never going to see her again.”

So, no, I don’t sentimentalize or hero worship at the altar of the sisterhood.

That said, I will acknowledge that there are plenty of them who actually are on a mission from God. One that doesn’t involve torturing kids, but is about social justice.

Think Nuns on the Bus. Think Sister Helen Prejean of Dead Man Walking. Think Peggy C. from my class in high school, who went “in” and stayed, and has had a long career working with poor refugees.

And now I can also think Sister Tesa Fitzgerald, who was profiled recently in a WSJ blog for her work with women coming out of prison.

What caught The Journal’s interest was Sister Fitzgerald’s business acumen, and how she funds her organization, Hour Children. Sister Fitzgerald is in the thrift store business:

The three thrift stores that Sister Fitzgerald currently operates are filled wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling with inventory. Everything from a white baby grand piano to a sheared beaver cape to an armoire believed to be from Brittany is waiting to find a new home.

She’s now in the process of consolidating her stores into a mega-store she’s developing in an abandoned nightclub in the Queens that had been in business for 15 years, making lots of noise and getting into lots of trouble for servicing underage kids. Lots of puking, lots of horns blasting, lots of pissing between parked cars and in doorways.

At one point, my sister Trish lived next door to a bar in Brooklyn, one that catered to bridge and tunnel folks, not yuppies. (Not that yuppies would have been any better, but there was a particular flavor to this crowd.) When the folks spilled out on weekends at closing time, you could always hear some girl sobbing, “Sean, when we gonna get married?. Sean? When?” And some guy screaming, “Mario, I’m gonna eat your fuckin’ heart out.”

So I have a pretty good idea just what this Queens nightclub was like.

“We needed to get rid of four bars, a dance floor and a lot of questionable rooms in the basement,” Sister Fitzgerald said. “I don’t want to know what they did down there.”

And you don’t want to know, Sister. It was most assuredly the devil’s work, lit by strobe lights.

Her stores take care of the furniture and clothing needs of women who’ve just left the prison system, and are now living, reunited with their children, in one of the five transitional houses that Sister Fitzgerald runs.

“The women are released from prison without any clothes. We have anything they want. We have sweaters and suits and coats. At any given time we have 20 strollers. And we have bling,” she says in a conspiratorial whisper. “Everyone wants some bling.”

A few years back, someone spoke to the St. Francis House board about a program SFH was running for recently released prisoners. He told us that when folks are released from the county houses of correction, they’re often released wearing the clothing they were arrested in. So, if they went to jail in July and they’re out in January, they may be left off at the nearest mall wearing shorts and a tee-shirt. St. Francis House sees a lot of ex-cons. And, like Sister Fitzgerald, gives out a lot of clothing. (We take so much for granted: which of my 20 winter sweaters will I wear today, which pair of boots.)

But Sister Fitzgerald has made a business out of her thrift shops, grossing $400K last year, and hoping to double it in 2013 with their new combined digs.

Good for her! A more-than-capable business woman who’s also fighting the good fight.

Sometimes the sisterhood is powerful.

Here’s a link to Hour Children. Donations welcome, I’m quite sure.