It's my fault really. "Martin" as he calls himself here - was never breast fed. It's what the doctors of the time were telling all of us mothers. How was I to know he would turn out this way ?

Now his therapist suggests that he can still reconnect with humanity if we regress to that time in his life and start over. So "Martin" - if you come over Sunday night after I get home from Bingo at the K of C Hall we can get started. And I promise to breast feed you like I should have so many years ago. And we'll keep at it as long as it takes to get you better. And yes - I saw your Father on visiting day and he approves also. He blames himself too. But in a few more years we can all be a family again.

My dear sweet child. I wish you could all see how cute he looked in the photo I took after his First Holy Communion over at St Peters on Madison. That's when the trouble started. I told his father he was spending too much time with the parish priest but he wouldn't listen. It was shortly after that when "Martin" started claming he was Jewish in order to distence himself from what happened in the choir loft every Wednesday night. I wondered why a tone deaf little boy wanted to be in the choir so badly. It turns out he wanted to be in the choir director - Father Dominic.

But sweetie - I'm happy to see you have some outside interests now. I'm so glad you are starting to make friends finally. But really dear - you need to start treating them better. Play nice.

And folks - please try to cut "Martin" some slack. He's not quite right you know. But you've seen that already.