In the 1970s I attended a small Catholic elementary school.  One day at recess, a "hyperactive" first grader named James sat in the school's front yard furiously digging a hole with one of the tablespoons we usually used in our sandbox.  His digging was clearly motivated by anger and he was muttering something about Satan.  A few of us stood around watching James' work and laughing at his odd behavior.  By the time the hole was at least a foot and a half (approx. 46 cm...sorry) deep, Sister Ann, our stern principal, got wind of what was happening and confronted James.
  "James, what are you doing?" she shouted.
  "I'm digging a hole to Hell so that I can kill Satan!" he insisted, returning to his task.
  After a brief struggle she carried him under one thick, solid arm, back into the school.
  He kicked and protested in vain about how he had to kill Satan.  His shouts were soon muffled as the school's front door closed behind them.  James' parents were called.
  By the next morning, the hole had been filled.
  Though she might not have realized it, the zeal exhibited by James was the direct result of Sister Ann's own fervent piety.  (She once told a few of us 2nd graders that the name of the rock band KISS was actually an acronym for "Kids In Service of Satan"--a warning that backfired, leading me to question, first, her own honesty and authority, followed by a slippery slope of a doubt in the "Miracle of Transubstantiation", the Virgin Birth, and eventually leading to my embrace of agnosticism.  OK, more of a settling for than an embrace).
  Anyway, it seemed that Sister Ann, on that day at least, cared more for the lawn than for battling the forces of Evil.
  My point is that when you uncover a feature, you may never really know.  It could've been an entrance to Hell.  
  Dermot Murphy
   
   

       
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