Many of my happy and silly memories are tied up with Roman Catholicism. I'm not Catholic, but I went to Catholic schools for several years and I grew up in San Francisco's Sunset District at a time when it was populated mainly by Irish Catholics. They had huge families, so we went to weddings all the time. It seemed as though all of our friends had a sister, brother, or cousin getting married every weekend. Those weddings were one of the highlights of my childhood. The adults were too busy socializing to keep an eye on us, so we were free to get tipsy on champagne and to gorge ourselves on Jordan almonds.
One of the silly memories of that time is the inevitable crush we pre-teen girls would have on the young parish priests. We probably knew instinctively that they were safe objects of our affection.
Other silly memories of that time: saving our white Necco wafers for games of Holy Communion, and tying the ends of our long hair under our chins when we had to enter a church and didn't have scarves, veils, or hats handy.
Many a night I slept in the sponge rollers though 
