Early last week a high school chum posted a black and white photo of a Catholic youth retreat dozens of us endured in order to escape Grade 13 religious studies. I fought the guilt-stuffed Care Bear vibe throughout the entire weekend, but still went away with that euphoria usually reserved for mega churches and Branch Davidians. Luckily this Eloi-like stupor vanished in a day or two as people resumed their rightful spots in the Darwinian Petrie dish that was Ste-Anne’s. My brain cleared. I packed up my folk guitar, chucked the Sing-along Godspell and got the hell out of Dodge.Image: Roy Schulze.
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