96 The following short stories relate to Faith in my lifetime: In my tender years, in my native village of Bellantone, I was involved with almost every activity at Church and at home. Together with my two sisters, I set up a table as an altar. I put a towel over my shoulder, lit up a lantern, using olive oil as candle, and placed a Holy picture in front of it to brighten it up. I would then act as if I was a Priest, and my two sisters were the congregation. I then started a Mass and, for Communion, I used a lupin. Unfortunately, one day, the Holy picture fell on top of the flame and caught fire. The three of us panicked and, from then on, we put the Holy picture on the outside. On one Holy Day, during a procession in the streets of the town, it was a custom to throw poppy leaves in front of the Priest, but I did not have any. I grabbed a handful from a girl to throw, not knowing that my big brother had seen me do it. As I turned around, he gave me one of the biggest smacks I had ever had during my life, in front of hundreds of people. The Parish Priest of my native village was a Professor. When I found out that he was sponsoring education for one boy of a big family, and since I was longing for a good education, I did everything under the sun to attract his attention. I was hoping that he would sponsor me as well. He knew that we had lost contact with my father because of the war, and my mother was having financial difficulties, but he did not take any notice of me. However, I still liked him so much that, when I left to emigrate to Australia, I went to his home to say goodbye for life, but he was having his afternoon siesta, and his housekeeper refused to wake him up. When I arrived in Melbourne, I saw so many Churches, and I asked ‘why’. I was told that they belonged to many different denominations, but I was happy when I was told that all Christians believe there is one God. When I started my first fruit shop in West Preston, the man who was in charge of the Church Collection was one of my customers. As I entered the Church every Sunday, I tried to dodge him, but there was only one entrance. I had no chance to refuse the collection plate, so every Sunday my heart was beating so fast I was afraid that, one day, I would have a heart attack.