Free Flower of Heaven by Julien Ayotte Page B

week’s activities that depicted life as a seminarian, both he and Ed McNeil would have to agree to continue as roommates; compatibility was essential because of the rigorous schedule of classes and training involved. It was not uncommon, Father Gleason related as they treaded across the lawn to the dormitory, that roommates who eventually both became ordained into the priesthood continued their friendship for the rest of their lives.
    August, 1945, was warm in Baltimore and as the two made their way through the dorm entrance and up the stairs to the third floor, Father Gleason could not help but curse how uncomfortable and hot it was wearing his cassock during this kind of weather. A priest in his mid-fifties, he was definitely the typical picture of a priest who had to always look and dress like one, Roman collar and all, even if it meant undue perspiration and discomfort.
    “Ah, three-one-one, here we are. I told Ed you’d be arriving this morning, so he should be in.”
    “Ya, come on in, the McNeil palace awaits you,” the voice sounded at the end of Father Gleason’s knock. There stood a towering blond man, wearing a baseball cap, a tee shirt full of holes, a pair of khaki Bermuda shorts and sandals. Clothes were strewn across chairs, the beds, and even the dressers. The room looked like it had been ransacked and ready for the demolition team to finish the job.
    “Ed, say hello to Dick Merrill, the fellow I said would be rooming with you this week to see if priesthood training is something he really wants to consider or something that’s been on his mind for a while and just needs to be dealt with.”
    “Dick, nice to meet you. I don’t know why Father Gleason is hooking you up with me; I don’t have a good track record with roommates. There are those here who even think I’m the cause of new guys changing their minds about becoming a priest. I’m even starting to believe that myself, although I can’t imagine why. The Lord sure didn’t know what he was getting into when he allowed them to let me in here two years ago, I guess.”
    Dick had never seen such a messy room. The floor was piled with boxes and the wall had baseball players’ pictures all over, and the crucifix, in the midst of these posters, was almost unnoticeable. Ed McNeil could sense the look of concern in Dick’s expression as he discreetly noticed his eyes scanning the room he would be calling “home,” at least for the next week.
    “Sorry about the mess; really, I’m not that bad. I just got back from summer vacation at home and I sort of just threw things around to empty my suitcases and get them out of the way. I’ll have this place looking like McNeil’s palace in no time. Sit down. Where you from, Dick?”
    Father Gleason excused himself as he informed Dick that Ed would take care of settling him in and acquainting him with the schedule for the week. “Thanks, Father,” yelled Ed, “I’ll take good care of him.”
    “That’s what I’m afraid of,” sighed Father Gleason as he shut the door on his way out.
    The two seemed to hit it off immediately and Dick was quite comfortable carrying on a conversation with Ed McNeil. McNeil was from Rochester, New York and the son of a film company executive who wasn’t too keen on his son’s announcement to leave LeMoyne University for the seminary.

    In September of that year, Dick Merrill enrolled as a new seminarian at St. Ignatius and decided to room with Ed McNeil, who, as it turned out, really wasn’t the sloppy guy that Dick had first thought he was.
    Eddie McNeil and Dick Merrill really got to know each other in Dick’s first year at the seminary. It seems, as Dick found out, that Eddie’s father wasn’t just a big executive for a film company, but its president and a very wealthy man.
    Ed McNeil was ordained in June, 1948, and was assigned to a parish in Wisconsin. On that day, Ed was surprised and pleased to see his father attending the ceremony and, while he still