18 I came a bit late to the first confirmation class. Frank and Jonny were already there. Some other boys from our class stood talking to pupils from B and C classes. They were all waiting under the archway leading to the side entrance to Frogner Church. A tall fellow with long, pale red hair and a full beard emerged from a doorway, beckoning us down into a basement. His hair and gentle expression gave him a Jesus like appearance. Frank and I helped Jonny down the steps, and pushed him into a room full of folding chairs. A little orange loose leaf file, sporting a cross on its cover, lay on each chair. The file was really cool. As we sat down, the chap with the beard positioned himself at the end of the room. His hands fumbled nervously in front of an enormous wool sweater. He introduced himself as Gerald. A sudden feeling of anxiety struck me as he went through the program leading up to the confirmation in May of the following year. I sensed that Gerald could see that I had no business there, an unclean in the house of God. I held my breath as his eyes swept over us. Thankfully, he didn’t look at me particularly. After making notes of the most important dates on a piece of paper, we were given a short sightseeing of the 170
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