I was raised catholic by a religious mother and accepting (poor guy) father. Now my mother, in turn, had a zealous, borderline crazy (she spent her time on the couch...) mother.
This woman was nuts about (literally and figuratively) the catholic saint, Saint Theresa of Avila. She had literal shrines in her home, a grotto-like deal in her back yard, bunches of books, pictures, holy cards, the whole 9 yards. I always thought it was sick.
Statues and paintings were everywhere (I swear the eyes were following me! ) and she had what is known as a first-class relic.
A 1st class relic is a big time relic. This one consisted of a pocket snuff can-size silver case that had, under glass, a small fragment of bone. HUMAN BONE! Yes it was creepy holding a container with part of a dead body in it!!!
But this was OK because it was none other than St. Theresa of Avila. Funny but that didn't make me feel any better... What a strange thing to show a small (I guess I was probably under 10) child. "Here son, come look at the dead person's bone fragment." ARGH!
Now this thing was highly valued, both religiously and monetarily. When grandmaw died (I fully expected to see her be carried away by that damn St. Theresa!) some in-family squabbles took place and the ole St. Theresa relic ended up being given to a local church. That solved the problem.
But nothing could guarantee me getting a major rise out of my mother (when I became old enough to outrun her) like saying the great St Theresa relic was probably a pork chop bone-fragment the monks (it had originally come from a monastery somewhere) had picked up after supper one evening and decided to make some $$$ off of. It also made me wonder what else did the monks have to make relics out of.
Man, she could run (My mother, not St. Theresa).