After about four years I finally did it. I got “hate mail” for a column… my friends are surprised it took me this long to irritate people since I’ve been irritating them for years.

I guess “hate mail” may be a bit strong maybe “dismayed mail” or “disappointed mail” would be more accurate. Either way I was informed in a very polite manner that my brand of humor, or attempt at humor, is not welcomed at the altar.

In hindsight maybe it should have been left in the sacristy where Father John told me to leave it when my brother and I were altar boys. Father John always had a few jokes for us while he was getting into the vestments prior to mass and then right before we stepped out onto the altar he would put his serious face on and encourage us to attempt to do the same.

My brother, Jarvis and I could usually hold it together for a while until Grandpa Ardell caught our eye. Grandpa, whose birthday we would have celebrated today on St. Patrick’s Day, is now our patron saint of mischief.

I guess I should have known better than using my conversations with a high school history and shop teacher turned priest as the basis for a column. Leonard Savelkoul taught pretty much everyone in my family during his lengthy tenure at Burke Central High School. Some of us he liked…some of us he didn’t, playing favorites was a weakness of his. He liked me and I enjoyed his unique way of conveying history to a bunch of teenagers who generally could care less about what the Potsdam Conference was all about. After retiring from teaching, he entered the priesthood; and shortly after Father Savelkoul was ordained, I asked if he would marry my wife and me. He agreed and after it was all said and done the people of the parish in Webster, SD didn’t want him to leave. His unique way of conveying history carried over into his new vocation where he knew how to relate religious teachings to a person so they would understand them best.

He and I were both baseball fans, him rooting for the Orioles and me, the hated Yankees. So, when I had a question about the order of things in the Catholic Church he related it to me in terms of baseball.

We were sitting at the clock in the Dakota Square Mall in Minot, a place you were almost always sure to run into him, and I asked him if he had to give up the Orioles for the Cardinals now that he was a priest. He laughed, and said, “Na..I don’t look good in red…black suits me better.”

Then I asked him if when he became Pope if I could be an elder altar boy in the Vatican. He figured Rome would be better off without a German North Dakotan at the helm.

Then we got to talking about the path from being a priest to becoming the Pope and like a good teacher he related it to me in a way he knew I would understand it. Obviously it worked because I still remember and I also remember that Joseph Stalin, Clement Attlee and Harry Truman were the big cheeses involved in the Potsdam Conference.

When I questioned Father Savelkoul about confession and asked if he and other priests compare notes he simply said, “In one ear and out the other…just like my history lessons.” He explained if he dwelled on everything his flock told him during confession he would end up in the loony bin preaching to the “fruit loops.”

Father Savelkoul passed away a few years back and I miss visiting with him and hearing his unique view of religion and the world in general.

So, to make a short story long, I apologize for offending anyone as that was not my intent. I’m sure Father Savelkoul would have got a kick out of the guff it brought me… he always liked to make people squirm a little.

So back away from the torches and pitchforks and I’ll leave the religious commentary in the Tribune to Ron Nelson while I handle less inflammatory subjects like lobbying to get March 17th changed to St. Mischief Day.

May your frown always be upside down and your laughter be heard throughout the town.