Sister Ricardus Tuskey

I told Sister Ricardus I'd put her on my blog this morning. She seemed pleased, even though she doesn't do much with computers. Anyone who attended Immaculate Heart of Mary Academy in Coeur d'Alene or St. Joseph's Sister School in Sandpoint back in the 1950s probably has vivid memories of Sr. Ricardus. I know my brother Kevin and my old friend Sean Garvey do.

Much to their dismay and to Sr. Ricardus's glee, I immortalized the three of them in my first book Pocket Girdles, in the first chapter no less. Sr. Ricardus was one of the two nuns sent up to Sandpoint to spend two weeks, six hours a day in the middle of June teaching us St. Joseph's kids about our religion.

Not all kids among us were devotees to learning about our religion. Some didn't know what to do about it, while others, like Kevin and Sean, took action. They ditched----for an entire day. Then, after Sister School ended that day, they were still ditching but nobody knew where. Eventually, however, the cops found 'em down at the old sale yard on Oak and Division.

The next day Sr. Ricardus read Sean and Kevin the riot act about their irresponsibility. She even punctuated her sermon, delivered in front of the masses of little Catholic kids all gathered in the front pews, with a chastising punch line that was gonna lead to punches on me at home.

"How dare you leave your poor little sister here all by herself?" she said, looking Kevin right in the eye. As a first grader, I was impressed with the attention, but Kevin wasn't. His little sister's welfare was the least of his worries the day he left the church grounds with Sean. It was the hole in the seat of his pants that drove him to sin that day. Little sister or not, he didn't want his peers, other than Sean, to see those pants.

Sr. Ricardus didn't know until at least 40 years later that Kevin and Sean weren't the only little darlings with sins on their souls and run-ins with the cops, especially after she worked so hard at getting us to cleanse ourselves of all black marks by teaching us about the Sacrament of Penance. The gist of the story is that Kevin's little sister didn't tell all in her first confession. I waited 40 years to announce my sin of coveting and stealing my neighbors' mail.

By that time, I'd grown up and Sr. Ricardus had long moved on from IHM Academy. The academy had also closed down. All these years, Sr. Ricardus has been living on the East Coast. The last time I heard from her, she lived in Binghamton, NY. I visited with her there by telephone about five years ago, and sent her the book about Kevin, Sean, and the faulty confession. I kept sending her Christmas cards after that, but heard nothing---until yesterday.

The letter from Sr. Ricardus Tuskey, penned by one of her friends, told of her move to Scranton, Penn., into a new retirement home for nuns. She also said her health is better than it's been in five years, now that she's on dialysis. "It gave my life back," she said in the letter. Her poor vision has kept her from staying in touch the past few years.

Of course, after reading her card and letter, I had to get right on the phone and call her but not before I rubbed it in to my friend Ann who attended IHM Academy and had Sr. Ricardus for her second-grade teacher. Ann couldn't believe it, but once convinced that I was, indeed, telling the truth, Ann wondered, "Is Sr. Phillip still alive . . . Sr. Alfonso . . . , etc. ?

While talking to Sr. Ricardus, I learned that all of Ann's nuns were alive and doing well. We were so young at the time that we thought they must be ancient. Instead, most were in their 20s when they taught us, but little kids, let alone adults, would have a hard time gaging age of any nun in her habit. Sr. Ricardus gasped when I told her I'd be 60 next year. She was also happy to hear about Kevin and Sean and the successes they've both made of their lives.

Sr. Ricardus definitely left an indelible mark in the memories of her students at St. Joseph's and at IHM. It's so nice 50-plus years later to be able to tell her so. And, it's even nicer to hear in her voice how genuinely pleased she is to reconnect with one of those many Catholic urchins, even though some of us were potential jail bait at the time she taught us.