David Campbell:  

Dave Campbell - The Early Years On December 8, 1952, I was born - David Anthony Campbell - the middle child of eleven to a devout Catholic mother and an affectionate, but extremely impious father. I have many fond memories of my mother, a typical Catholic mom of her day - that is: she smoked, drank, and cussed moderately, and was always pregnant - but still never failed to go to church on Sunday. There were many times I can remember her getting up in the middle of the week to go to 6:30 Mass. Coming home afterward, she made pancakes for us while preparing lunches for everybody to take to school or work. It may seem odd to think it, but she really was a Proverbs 31 woman in every sense because she always provided for us: shopping and filling four or five baskets of groceries weekly to make breakfast, lunches, and dinners. Not only that, but she also did all our laundry for us - that was in the days when you actually had to iron all your clothes - and to top if off she started a successful real estate business. I am very grateful for my "Catholic" education (down at St. Bernadettes and on to Bishop Ireton). I do remember my catechism, and I did learn to speak proper English. I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide both decimals, and fractions. Being Catholic, though, I was very confused about heaven and hell; venial sins and mortal sins, Catholic schools and public schools; baptisms, etc. My limited powers of deduction lead me to conclude that Catholics went to Catholic school and Publics went to Public school. One time at the dinner table I asked my mom why "Publics" couldn't go to heaven. That was a great opportunity for all of my siblings to abuse me and let me know how stupid I was, but it was okay because I always knew that my mother still loved me. When I reached 1st grade the nuns or "Sisters" who taught us weren't much help either. I can remember going to class and Sister Maria Teresa drew a large circle on the blackboard and colored it in, saying, "This is 'mortal sin.' It kills the soul and sends it to hell." Then she took the chalk and made lots of dots all over the blackboard and said, "These are 'venial sins', for these you must go to purgatory." We were told that you could only go to heaven if you were baptized and that anybody could baptize anybody, which I thought was cool because if you needed to get somebody to heaven in a pinch, you could just get a glass of water and get it done. The greatest fear I ever had in 1st grade class was that I would not be able to make it through without a potty break, and we were forbidden to ask for one. I will never forget fateful morning when my fear became a reality. It wasn't until the Sister walked by my desk and noticed something odd under her shoes that she glared at me and in a rage and humiliated me in front of the whole class by calling me a Bad Bunny Rabbit!!!" Let's fast forward to age nine, when my older brother, Timmy, got a guitar for his birthday. I think he would've preferred a baseball bat or glove. Nobody could play that thing but me, and I played it to death. I learned every folk song I could and started learning the words to all the popular songs so that I could sing and entertain all my siblings and their friends. I thrived off of the selfish ambition of entertainment and the acceptance and praise I got from success in music. Little did I know that one day God would rescue me and use my gifts to glorify him in the dearest place on earth. When I was about 12 I fell in with the "wrong" crowd (or maybe they fell in with me). We were little thieves who loved the thrills of shoplifting. Trench coats were all the rage back then, so inside pockets made it easy to steal candy, records, cigarettes, and even skateboards. I thank God though for the day I got caught. Getting away with sin is never a blessing because you can't escape the guilt that is still there. Getting caught is always an evidence of God's grace. I'll never forget the one time I got caught stealing a box of safety matches from the local "Bon Food" store. We used to have match fights by striking the match on our pants leg or any other rough surface and then trowing it at the enemy to try and set their hair on fire (we were stupid). Anyhow, the manager of the store grabbed me as I walked out and gave me the business. He was very gracious and didn't report me to the police, but he didn't need to because I was cured of my desire to shoplift and never had enough nerve to do it again. My best buddy at the time was Billy Shalag. He and I did everything together (especially everything wrong). We were both 12, and his sister Teresa was 16. One night after Teresa got her license, Billy and I and two other friends piled in to her VW bug and she drove us to the carnival near the "Landmark" shopping center. In those days, kids racing to any car would always yell, "Shotgun!" to claim the prime real estate of the front passenger seat. I'm not sure who called shotgun on the way there but I'm sure I called it for the ride home. However, Billy, not being a generous kind of guy, and since it was his sister's car, got the privilege and sat in the front passenger seat. I ended up in the front between Billy and Teresa, straddling the bucket seats and the gear shift of their brand new "Beetle" while our buddies, Richard and Robbie MacCormack, sat in the back. Once in the car, instead of going straight home we decided t...Expand for more