Daddy's Little Girl

Playtime. Tickling us until we couldn’t breathe. Pushing us on the swings. Pretending to be a train so we could ride on his back around the house. Wrestling with us and letting us win. Racing us across the backyard. Teaching us badminton, tennis, and golf.

My daddy. After he came home from a long day (smelling like chocolate—yum!—one of the benefits of being an engineer for Godiva and R.M. Palmer), he would still make time for us. Every child needs a parent who will be silly and forget the world of grown-ups even if only for a few minutes each day. Our moments with dad held us over as we got older and his job got more intense, requiring long hours and weekends when we no longer had time with him at all.

As the years go by, I cherish my childhood memories, especially as I think of what’s important to my own children. My dad worked hard and taught us to do the same. Having struggled through his own childhood and working three jobs to put himself through college while learning English at the same time, he showed us that every challenge is an opportunity to grow and achieve our dreams.

Despite the lack of time he had for us as we got older and the endless arguments and stress we caused him when we were teens, we knew that he loved us because he laid the foundation for a solid relationship with each of us when we were little.

It doesn’t matter how old I get, I know I’ll always be daddy’s little girl. He still wants what’s best for me and he’s not afraid to give me his honest opinion every chance he gets. And for that, I’m extremely grateful. Being a parent isn’t about being a buddy; it’s about making difficult choices and guiding your children especially when you see their decisions are leading them down a path that might not be best for them.

To my daddy: Boldog Apák Napját kivánok, Apu! Thank you for being the best. (Szeretlek most és mindig!!!!)

To all dads, grandpas, uncles, and men who play a positive role in the lives of children—Happy Father’s Day! Always remember, if you touch the life of a child even if just for a moment, you have made a significant impact.

Saying Goodbye

In a few short months silence will echo permanently in its three floors of winding hallways. The once bustling corridors of students pushing their way to class—some begrudgingly, others enthusiastically—will be mere memories haunting the emptiness. A history we thought would live on for our children and our children’s children will come to an end.

Reading Central Catholic High School (CCHS) in Reading, PA isn’t just any school. Most are built for the specific purpose of educating students. As such, certain elements and conveniences are built in and modernized for the faculty and pupils. But half of CCHS is a historic landmark. It had a history long before any student ever set foot onto its property. (But that’s a story for another day.)

After years of dwindling enrollment, this private school succumbed to the recession and its inevitable fate was sealed by the Allentown Diocese. While I understand the decision to merge CCHS with (its arch-rival) Holy Name (HN) from a business perspective, there has been a vehemently vocal push from some members of the HN community (and less vocal but staunch CCHSers) to reject becoming a unified school under the Berks Catholic title and remain “Holy Name.” True, this is a generic union of two schools with long, fascinating histories. However, what these “good” Catholics are forgetting is that the CCHS institution is losing everything—its building, its traditions, its memories, and more—by moving into the HN building. It’s a necessary move in order to keep secondary Catholic education alive in Berks County, but it’s one that I’m sure current CCHS students, parents and alumni are finding a difficult one to accept.

The closure of CCHS feels like a death in the family. You see, CCHS is so much more than just another school. It’s our school. It represents everyone who wandered its halls. Awkward teen-dom was survived there. The most impressionable and important years of our lives leading to adulthood were spent in its halls and classrooms. It defined who we were then and who we are today. Though with each passing year its memories are fading, CCHS will forever live on in our hearts.

Closing the school is a necessary “evil” in this economic climate and makes financial sense, but CCHS is more than a business. It’s filled with thousands of individual stories. I met my husband in Freshman Homeroom #2. I made friends and lost friends in its halls. Fates were decided. Dreams came true and some were dashed. Hearts were broken, but lifelong friendships were made. Limits were pushed; detentions served (and in some cases using a toothbrush to scrub the sacred marble staircase—more on that in another blog). Academic, athletic, and personal challenges were faced head on; we won some and lost a lot. In these four vital years, we entered as children and left as adults.

Central lives on through each of us. We may not have a spectacular one-of-a-kind building to call our home anymore or CCHS homecomings at the football field on St. Lawrence Avenue, but we carry the school’s spirit, its lessons, and its memories in our unforgettable tales and our lasting friendships.

I can’t believe I’m saying this to Catholics who are supposed to support each other and their communities. It’s time to put aside differences and understand that CCHS and HN will live on as Berks Catholic.
• Centralites: The decision has been made. The school is closing. Remember the past, but look to the future.
• Holy Namers: It’s a merger, not an acquisition. Both schools need to blend. Get used to it.

New traditions will be forged. New opportunities will come to pass. And as long as both schools’ alumni live, the wonderful memories and traditions of CCHS and HN will live on through our stories, our actions, and our efforts to preserve both identities while peacefully compromising to create a better, richer community for the future Berks Catholic students, who ultimately are our future in Reading and beyond.

We are adults. Our children learn from our actions in what we do and say. More importantly, the leaders of tomorrow learn from their parents first. Shouldn’t we set an example for our children by teaching them that compromise is a necessary way of life? In a situation like this feelings on all sides are going to get hurt and no one at the moment is going to be 100% happy with the decisions and choices that are made. But twenty years from now Berks Catholic alumni will be grateful that private, college prep education was available in their backyard and, more importantly, provided a solid, moral foundation for their lives.

The situation could be worse. Both schools could close in this economy and Catholic education—along with both CCHS and HN’s rich pasts—would be nothing more than a forgotten page in Reading’s quickly vanishing history.

Image:
The title page of our 1996 yearbook foreshadows the state of the school today.