Episode transcript - “Putting the You in Rules”

[SFX: The confessional door opens. Wade enters, sitting across from Ben.]

FR. BEN: Good morning. How long has it been since your last confession?

WADE: Morning, Father! Two months, three weeks, and four days.

FR. BEN: Wow. That’s specific. Also—four days? That doesn’t seem mathematically—?

WADE: Oh! I attended a little pickup confession at St. Helena’s over in Chatanosinqua. They have weekday confessionals they call confes-specials. (rhyming with confessionals)

FR. BEN: Confes-specials. A mouthful, but clever. Also—Chat…chata…?

WADE: Chatanosinqua? It’s about…ohh, an hour fifteen northwest. Right by a nice camping site, and Lake Chatanosinqua? Perfect for tubing if you’re into that kind of thing. I’m more of an ice fisherman myself. Nothing peaceful like drilling into a perfect circle of frozen H20 to drop a line and catch what the lord doth provide! Ahhh. Quiet little town. The people there are a *little* hoity toity, if you ask me, but friendly enough. I do recommend you get out to the lake sometime. Right at sunset, it feels darn near close to seeing the face of the Almighty himself! Might help if you need a place of inspiration for you to write some of your…stirring homilies.

FR. BEN: Well, thanks for the tip. I’ll take it under advisement, Wade!

WADE: Wade? Oh! Uhhh. Are we being that familiar in here?

FR. BEN: I’m …sorry?

WADE: I’m just…surprised, that’s all. That you’re…acknowledging me?

FR. BEN: Well. Yes. I recognized your voice for one thing. For another, you nodded at me before I entered the confessional. You’re not using the private booth. You’re…you’re staring right at me. And finally… you’re one of our ushers. We work together.

WADE: Oh, of course, I know that. But is this not supposed to be an anonymous environment all the same? At least in spirit?

FR. BEN: Well? The private booth allows for some of that if needed… (flustered but resigned) But I suppose you’re right. We’re such a small community, most people don’t even question that aspect of confession, but—but if you’d like to maintain an…air…of anonymity, I can try to oblige. Even if the details of that request are, uhh, difficult.

WADE: (sighs) Thank you, Father. It’ll just be an imaginary secret between me and the ears of the Almighty.

FR. BEN: We’ll roll with it the best we can. Now. Down to business.

WADE: (desperate) Thank you. I really need your help. I can’t sleep!

FR. BEN: I’m sorry to hear that. Is something weighing on your conscience? Is that why you’re here?

WADE: I was hoping you could tell me that.

FR. BEN: Well. The whole point of confession is that you…confess.

WADE: But that’s the thing. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what I did wrong. I follow the rules to the T. To the T. And you know what’s strange? There’s no T in rules. That seems like it should be against the rules. Where’s that T come from, you know? But it’s the expression, and the expression dictates there’s a T. So I follow the rulest! Because that’s what’s right. Maybe it’s just my generation, but I was raised to believe that if you follow the right path, you’ll be doing God’s math. That was a little expression my mother taught us. She was an elementary math teacher. I mean before she homeschooled us, that is. Then she was an everything teacher! 

FR. BEN: I’m happy to hear you strive so hard to make the right decisions, but there must be something troubling you if you can’t sleep. Unless this is a medical thing? In which case, you don’t need a priest. Maybe just a glass of warm milk and some valerian root?

WADE: Mmm, I don’t mean to question your expertise, Father, but this feels uniquely spiritual in a way I don’t understand. I’ve never experienced this before. Where do most of your sinners go astray? Maybe we could start there. Like that woman before me. Tanja Soto? I bet she has a whole boatload of sins. 

FR. BEN: I don’t really think it’s appropriate for me to talk about other parishioners, especially given that we started this confession under the veil of anonymity. Let’s try another tactic. When did you first have difficulty sleeping?

WADE: I suppose it’s been about two weeks now, give or take a day. (chuckles). As if a day could just be given away.

FR. BEN: That sounds like around the time the Armada burned down. Are you a member there?

WADE: Me? (Chuckles) Heavens, no. Oh, I’ve expressed minor interest from time to time. In fact, about a month ago when my supervisor walked into the showroom I said:

[SFX: Wade is mopping up the floor—a large CV starts in the distance]

WADE: Top of the morning to you, Supreme Admiral. Here for your morning inspection?

ROGER: Mmm. Yes. Hi, Wade. 

WADE: Speaking of shipshape, if you ever needed a little extra help swabbing the poop deck at the Armada, why, I know a seaman who would be happy—

ROGER: Wade, best keep the sailor language among us, uhh, friends. There are customers filing in. 

FR. BEN (in present): Wait, you work for Roger Alito?

WADE (in present): Alito’s Conversion Vans, yessiree—God!

FR. BEN (in present): So you’re a salesman?

WADE (in present): Oh, nothing so grand. I work security. 

FR. BEN (in present): At the dealership? 

WADE (in present): Well, sure! Those vans are driveable goldmines! Someone has to make sure they don’t just “accidentally” drive off the lots for a little illegal, illicit adventure. Someone has to do the tough work of keeping an eye on all the impending illicit activity. 

ROGER: Uh, Wade, I think there’s a spill near the complimentary coffee. 

[SFX: Mopping noise intensities as we flashback to the confessional]

FR. BEN: You and Roger must be pretty close?

WADE: Oh, well, I wouldn’t say that. Ah, Father, we’re somewhat veering away from the whole anonymity issue again in discussing my boss.

FR. BEN: Right. Sorry about that. Uhh. You mentioned working security. Do you have any interest in the Police Department? Have you ever thought about working for them? 

WADE: (chuckles) Oh, no, those boys wouldn’t be interested in an old flatfoot like me. Back in the day I flirted with attending the academy. I was disqualified though, for a rather—uhh. Well? Embarrassing reason.

FR. BEN: We don’t need to—

WADE: (whispers) I had an excessive amount of hemorrhoids for a young man.

FR: BEN: (sighs) I’m sorry to hear that.

WADE: Still! I am friendly with the team over at HQ! Every Saturday I deliver them coffee and donuts, just to brighten up their day. They work hard, you know. Their blue lives matter! And you should see their appreciative faces. They let me walk right into the station like I belong there! Only yesterday I brought them a fresh batch and said, “Evening Fellas!”:

[SFX: Flashback sound. Video game noises, lots of shooting, COD or something similar]

WADE: Evening, fellas! A little refreshment to back the blue!

WILLIAMS: Oh, hey Wade.

HORTFORD: Just leave them on the desk. 

WILLIAMS: Set me up, will ya? One-quarter cup of cream, four Splenda packs, and don’t over fill! 

WADE: (in present) Yes sir, those boys need all the support we can give them. They get such little respect. Did you know they’re *this* close to solving a peeping tom case? 

HORTFORD: Get any Boston Creams?

WADE: They were fresh out, sadly. Any progress with that peeping tom case?

WILLIAMS: Nah. We think it was just a cat.

WADE: A…cat?

HORTFORD: Yeah, you know, someone up in the tree. Victim said they saw a pair of eyes. Cats climb trees, right? Aren’t firefighters always rescuing cats from trees? 

WADE: Well, I wouldn’t know.

HORTFORD: Plus. Peeping tom. Might be that creepy black cat running around town everyone’s talking about. Eats all their food. Evidence is pretty strong.

WILLIAMS: DAMN it! Did you see that lame noob camper creep up on me? What the hell? 

WADE: You boys enjoy! I’m just a phone call away should you need me.

FR. BEN (in present) You seem to be very passionate about your career and security in general. 

WADE: (in present) Oh, it’s more than a career.

WILLIAMS: Yeah, sure, we’ll do that. Bye. 

HORTFORD: Get there early and grab some of the Boston Creams next time! 

[SFX: Flashing back to confessional completely.]

WADE: But with the lack of sleep, it’s making me very tired lately. I mean, I volunteer at the Cineplex. I’m picking up some extra shifts at the credit union. I usher with you. Waking up early on the weekends to guard the playground. It’s just one thing after the next these days and I’m afraid—

FR. BEN: Did—did you just say…playground?

WADE: Sure did! The brand spanking new one over on Foster, connected to the lot next to Noyes Manor? 

FR. BEN: So…you make sure the kids are safe. There’s no punk kids using equipment they’re too old for, that sort of thing?

WADE: Oh heavens, no. I make sure the kids can’t get inside.

FR. BEN: You...make sure…the children…can’t get inside…the playground? 

WADE: Father, the playground is unsafe! 

FR. BEN: The one on Foster. With the pirate ship, warp wall, spongey turf? I thought the town hired an expert to make sure it was especially safe, state-of-the-art, accessible… universally-designed! 

WADE: Oh, they did. They did exactly that! And that’s the problem! All of that extra work requires state certification, and the paperwork hasn’t been returned yet. And until it does the playground can’t be legally opened. That’s why that big tall fence is around it. I heard Roger and members of the council discussing it at the dealership not too long ago, and so naturally I asked about enforcement. Do you think a fence is going to stop children? Oh no, sir, no way, no how! Especially since there’s an opening in the back, where it connects to the elder home. I personally witnessed group after group of families cutting through that way. I just felt it was my responsibility to do something about it. So one Sunday I set up shop and when I saw families start to enter I said:

[SFX: Idling car. Wade sits idling in his car. He rolls down the window.]

WADE: Excuse me? I’m sorry? Excuse me! EXCUSE ME! The playground is closed. That’s why there is a fence. No playing on the playground, please. No, no! Closed! Go to the one on Ransom Ave until this one meets the proper certification! It’s simply not safe!

PARENT: Hey, what’s the big idea? 

WADE: The playground is closed! Hence, the fence. Why would the playground have a fence around it if it were open?

PARENT: Why would some random weird guy waste his time yelling at kids to not play on a playground on a beautiful Sunday morning?

WADE: Exactly! Exactly right, why indeed? Unless it was extremely important!

PARENT: Do you work for the town or something?

WADE: I…represent the town. In a sense. 

FR. BEN: (in present, stunned) Uhh? Are you a representative of the town?

WADE: (present) Well, sure. Just like you represent the Church!

FR. BEN: (present) So…someone ordered you to guard the playground from the children?

WADE: (present) Not exactly.

PARENT: It’s my daughter’s birthday today. We planned to go here. We’ve got balloons. I mean, there was a grand opening a few weeks ago.

WADE: Very unfortunate. That was premature, I’m afraid. All of the necessary paperwork hadn’t been filed. Now please take your group to Ransom Ave Park. That’s a perfectly safe and certified playground there. No fence. Legal. Open. 

PARENT: (under their breath) Frickin’ weirdo. 

WADE: Have a great day. Stay safe! 

[SFX: Distant sound of children crying. Flash forward noise.]

FR. BEN: Umm? St. Pat’s is my assignment. From the Bishop. There was paperwork involved.

WADE: Oh, well in that case, it’s maybe not exactly like you representing the Church after all. But…I view myself as a representative wherever I go. A representative of the town, of the Church, of cleanliness, of safety! And that means trying to maintain order. Trying to follow the rules. Someone needs to do it, Father! These children? I’ve watched them! Their parents? They tell them they can do whatever they want, be whomever they want. And that’s simply unrealistic! If a playground is closed and it’s a matter of their safety, and I’m keeping them safe, that’s not a bad thing. That’s following the rules—for a good purpose!

FR. BEN: I didn’t say it was a bad thing.

WADE: Oh. Well. You know. Yes. Right. Right! You agree!

FR. BEN: I didn’t say that either. Why you? If this is so important, why not the local authorities?

WADE: Oh, those boys have too much on their plates to tackle something like this. They have to handle real criminals, not innocent minors.

FR. BEN: Uh-huh. And about how long ago did you start patrolling the playground? 

WADE: Well? Just shortly before the fire at the Armada, I suppose. I’m there every Saturday and Sunday, 8 am to noon and then usually back later in the afternoon if I can. I can’t stay all day, obviously. Oh, and that’s why I’ve been Ushering Saturday afternoon Mass! It’s honestly relaxing. I listen to some radio programs, clean my CV, bring a snack, make a day of it! 

FR. BEN: Since the Armada fire.

WADE: Yes.

FR. BEN: So about two weeks. About how long you haven’t been able to sleep?

WADE: I’m not catching your meaning.

FR. BEN: Do you think it’s possible you’re having difficulty sleeping because you feel guilty for turning those children away? I mean, how do they react?

WADE: Well, naturally, they’re upset. But there’s another playground just a few blocks away.

FR. BEN: But not a new one. With a pirate ship. And a warp wall.

WADE: What even is a warp wall anyway?

FR. BEN: It’s from Intergalactic Viking Olympics. Real contestants but set in a sci-fi championship setting. People need to run up and scale it in a feat of strength. (pause, said flatly) It kinda rules.

WADE: Rules. Yes. Well. We approach that word from a different context, I suppose. Me, from the point of view of maintaining order and safety. And you from that of a glorified game show full of cretin gladiator contestants sweating and stretching and, and, and—really, Father. I shouldn’t be surprised. The Church is full of rules you willfully ignore left and right. And for what?

FR. BEN: I ignore the rules?

WADE: Of course you do! Can you explain why you switched to guitar during the Eucharistic Sacrament? What happened to the bells?

FR. BEN: Well? Mitchell was talking about learning the guitar not too long ago and I figured it might be a good way to get him more involved with the church.

WADE: It’s meant to be ringing bells, isn’t it? That’s traditional.

FR. BEN: I’d argue it’s supposed to be a musical recognition of something much more important than whatever sound the instrument makes. The sound signifies that Christ is with us, in that moment. What’s causing the sound is less important.

WADE: Mmm, you think so? (under his breath) Less important to you, maybe. If someone does not maintain those rules, maintain those traditions, then where will we be?

FR. BEN: If they have the effect of making people unhappy, I suspect we’ll be lying in bed desperately trying to fall asleep.

WADE: Nonsense. (pause) My father. He used to tell me the reason there’s a U in rules was because you had to believe in them. That if you take yourself out of it all, make yourself exempt, the word just becomes nonsense, gibberish, just like the world. RLES. Try saying that! No, there’s a responsibility in engaging with other people, everywhere, always. And he taught us it was our collective duty to add that U. Capital letter. Italic. Bolded. And if someone slips and forgets, we need to correct their grammar and add it for them. He was a judge. He believed in the law like he was a priest, and it was his higher power. He used a single attaché case his whole life and oiled it weekly. Law oil. It’s a smell I’ll never forget.. One time when I was seven I stole a pack of gum from our local pharmacy. My parents were checking out and it was nearly eye level to me. I didn’t even think about it, didn’t even consider it as something that could be wrong. I just stared right at the pink wrapper, large bright letters. And you know what I thought Father? Not thou shall not steal. Not stealing is wrong. I thought one horrible little word: mine. This is mine. And I slipped it into my jacket pocket without hesitation, without even feeling guilty. Now, why would I do that? Because I was acting on a very human instinct. Greed. It’s so deceptive, a slippery part of us we don’t even notice, like a dormant organ, and we’ve created these rules, follow these rules, established by higher powers, whether they come from our forefathers or our Almighty Father, to combat our insidious nature! And the second we let that slip, the second we set it aside as inconvenience, we all start the quick slide into damnation. Not hell, mind you, no pitchforks and devils, although I believe in that too. Hell on earth! A selfish world full of people who want for themselves and don’t know the patience of denial, know only self-satisfaction. Is that the kind of world you want, Father? 

FR. BEN: No, I—

WADE: It’s not the world I want. And maybe that’s why I can’t sleep. Because I can’t imagine anything else but that world taking over, with not enough people combating it, establishing tradition, putting stock in what matters!

FR. BEN: Okay. Well then. Have a good day.

WADE: Excuse me?

FR. BEN: I assume you’re all set? You’ve maintained from the beginning that you’ve done nothing wrong, committed no sins. You’re simply following the rules. If anything, I should apologize to you. For adding a little guitar to the mass. Right?

WADE: I’m not perfect, Father. I have my transgressions, same as everyone else. 

FR. BEN: Strange how we haven’t discussed them at all though. Right?

WADE: I don’t find your tone helpful. You young priests, all the same. Klem would understand. There’s a man who puts stock in the way things ought to be.

FR. BEN: (bitter laugh) How old do I have to be at this parish before I lose the “young priest who doesn’t know anything” label? Do I have to go gray? How many wrinkles do you think?

WADE: I sense you’re being flippant, and I don’t know the point of that. Is this how you handle confessions? And you wonder why I wanted to maintain a sense of anonymity. Listen to you ridiculing me.

FR. BEN: This isn’t a confession because you haven’t confessed to anything. It’s not your fault. It’s the world! Because I dared question your decision to prevent children from playing, you launched into this diatribe about hell on earth. Now, if I had to guess, that entire speech wasn’t for my benefit, but for yours. Part of you is trying to convince yourself that you shouldn't feel guilty. The part of you who remembers your father’s leather attaché case and the smell of…law oil. But another part of you knows why you’re not sleeping at night. And I think that’s why you’re here. You’re just having a hard time admitting it. 

WADE: (stewing but then resigned). Well! (pause) Well…

FR. BEN: What happened when you were young with the gum? Did your father ever find out? 

WADE: He didn’t. No. I chewed a single piece. Chewed it until it was flavorless. And then it sank in that I never paid for it. The next week I dropped a dollar bill somewhere near the front of that store, hoping the owner would find it. He must have seen me drop it because when I walked out the door he called after me. “Son? Drop something?” He handed it back to me. And his face. His look. It was like he knew something. And I just couldn’t look at him after that. I grabbed the dollar bill and ran home. I buried the rest of the pack in the backyard. I thought it was deep. I mean there was soil. I saw worms. But it must not have been. When my father mowed the lawn the gum got caught in the blades. Somehow it got caught in the machinery enough that the whole thing shorted out. My father had to take it in to get repaired. They said it would be cheaper to buy a new one. He sat my brother and I down and inquired how it got there and I shrugged and looked down at the floor. I crunched the dollar bill from the store in my hand. I didn’t tell him. My mother wanted to push it, but he said—he just looked at my brother and I and he  said…it’s okay. Maybe it was neighborhood kids. Probably just boys being boys.

FR. BEN: Kids. Being kids. 

WADE: I was so afraid of him most of the time. He was so by the book. But in that moment, he just looked at us and let it all go. He forgave us with such grace. My mother looked disappointed, but he just grinned at us. I wonder how he’d feel if I told them the truth. Would there still be room for forgiveness? For grace? I was tempted to confess everything. But I couldn’t. 

FR. BEN: What have the children on that playground done that even needs to be forgiven?

WADE: They’re trespassing, Father. Until the park is safe, they can’t be allowed in.

FR. BEN: Even if they are? They’re not doing it willingly. Is a rule still a rule if children don’t see? All they see is a chance to play. On a really cool-looking playground. They’re not seeing sin there. They’re seeing happiness. 

WADE: But the fence!

FR. BEN: You like tradition. Think about the older version of the Lord’s Prayer. Forgive us our trespasses…

WADE: …as we forgive those…

WADE & FR. BEN: …who trespass against us.

WADE: I never thought that could be taken so…literally. 

FR. BEN: I’m gonna make a suggestion to you. Maybe the town can hold another grand opening for the new playground this weekend. The church could help out. We can have some balloon animals and face painting. And you can be there to ensure the children’s safety, not to prevent them from coming. After all, there’s a holdup with the paperwork, but the safety inspection permit has been approved and appropriately filed, right? That’s my understanding.

WADE: Yes. It should be on the way. There was just a processing delay with the paperwork. 

FR. BEN: It may feel like a small thing sometimes to spread a little happiness. And it can be hard, especially if it feels wrong to you for some reason. But you’re still spreading happiness. And that may feel small at first, but give it time. Open up the gates a little and let that happiness in. Give it space to grow. Making other people happy, Wade? Showing some flexibility and compassion? That is not against the rules. Ever. 

WADE: Very well, Father. I’ll…try. 

FR. BEN: Maybe give yourself a break too. Let yourself into more spaces. Try new things. Let that happiness in.

WADE: I’m not sure what you mean, Father.

FR. BEN: That’s okay. Reflect on it later. After you say your Ten Hail Marys. 

[MUSIC: Credits music]

ADAM RAYMONDA: Forgive Me! is a Rogue Dialogue production. This episode was written and directed by Jeff Van Dreason, Jack Marone, and Bob Raymonda.

Here’s our cast in order of appearance: 

Casey Callaghan Father Ben
Jordan Higgs Wade
Bob Frame Roger
Cornelius Mohr Williams
Jeff Van Dreason Hortford
Johanna Ginsburg Parent

Script editing by Jordan Stillman.

Dialogue Editing by Bob Raymonda.

Sound design by Jeff Van Dreason.

Scoring and mixing by me, Adam Raymonda.

All of the graphic design comes from Sam Twardy.

Find out what we’re up to by following @forgivemeshow on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.

This season we’ve got a 13-episode Patreon-exclusive series called Confessions with Klem! Our Patrons will get a glance into the secrets of the St. Patrick’s community with everyone’s favorite witty nihilistic Priest.

In this week’s episode, we hear a sort of mini-crossover with Greater Boston where we meet the mother of Nichole Fonzerelli and learn why she has no interest in visiting her daughter in Red Line.

ANGELA: I… hate…. Boston. I hated it before a whole section of that dirty water town went completely subterranean. It’s disgusting, the Red Sox are an abomination of a baseball team, and their sewer rats are the size of gargoyles. 

FR. KLEM: Hehehe, go Yankees!

ANGELA: Exactly!

To get access to this Patreon-exclusive series as well as an ad-free version of our feed, become a supporting parishioner over at patreon.com/roguedialogue. That’s patreon.com/roguedialogue.

Are you enjoying the start of our new season? If you did - go follow it on your favorite podcast player. If you REALLY enjoyed it rate and review it on Podchaser or Apple Podcasts. 

That’s it for now! We’re taking the month of July off from our regularly scheduled episodes  . We’ll be showing you some shows we like in the meantime. Episode seven is coming in August! Bye!