By Shaun Tumpane
Laguna Woods Globe columnist
Lent. According to the Oxford Dictionary, Lent is the “period preceding Easter that in the Christian Church is devoted to fasting, abstinence and penitence in commemoration of Christ’s fasting in the wilderness.”
Let’s set aside what constitutes the “Christian Church” for the time being.
For God-fearing little Roman Catholic boys and girls, the advent to Lent was always a stressful time. Why? Because every overly devout parent (of which I had two) demands to know what the child is planning to give up for Lent.
The most pious of children take this quite seriously and announce that they have chosen to forego something that means much to them, such as “I’m going to give up riding my bike” or “I’m giving up picking on my little sister.”
Some Christians ascribe the notion that Jesus was an only child and walked everywhere, so the agnostics among us can’t connect the dots between fasting in the wilderness and not riding a bike or pulling Mary Margaret’s pigtails.
Some children who shall remain nameless went the comedic route, i.e., “I’m giving up space travel” or “I’m going to quit drinking alcohol for Lent.” My Shi-ite Roman Catholic parents took a dim view of such shenanigans and were quick to bring down the metaphorical sword of Damocles upon me with a “You’ll be kneeling and saying the rosary every evening of Lent.”
For the uninitiated, that’s nine “Our Fathers,” a couple of “Glory be’s,” and 56 “Hail Marys” daily for 40 days, so roughly 2,200 “Hail Marys” and 360 “Our Fathers.” For a kid, that’s a bunch of prayin’!
Fast forward 65 years or so. Mom and Dad are long gone. Dad’s playing golf at Heavenly Days Country Club, and Mom’s playing bridge with Charles Goren, Charles Darwin and the Unsinkable Molly Brown.
So now when Fat Tuesday rolls around, I’m faced with a dilemma, my childhood memories haunting me: a little devil perched on my left shoulder telling me how Lent is stupid and why bother giving anything up, and a little angel on my right shoulder saying nothing, but with anticipatory disappointment and shame written all over the cherub’s face.
So, over six decades or three score later, I put a smile on the angel’s face by finally turning the 1960 joke of giving up booze for Lent into a 2025 reality. Don’t drink for almost six weeks; easy right?
The shakes eventually subside toward the end of the first week. No Chianti with a bowl of pasta is annoying but doable. Sitting at the 19 with the usual suspects after golf or at Beer30 on non-golfing days for hours, watching my friends tie another one on and NOT joining in – now that takes monumental self-control.
Sobriety can be a wilderness, too.
Shaun Tumpane is a Laguna Woods Village resident.