POWER PLAY: LIFE, DEATH, HUMOR AND MOSTACCIOLI

For some unknown reason, mostaccioli is the food of choice for large Catholic gatherings.

There must be some sort of religious connection. Maybe it was a side dish at the Last Supper.

Bread and wine are the only victuals mentioned in the Gospels as being served at the Last Supper, but perhaps like many other items in the New Testament, perhaps the complete menu was omitted or altered during the various translations from the original Greek into Latin and the vernacular languages.

Like many pasta, meat and red sauce dishes, mostaccioli is cheap and easy to make and therefore an economical way to feed a bunch of people. But why is this particular dish favored over, say, spaghetti? As the term "mostaccioli" is derivative of the Italian word "mostaccio" -- which means "mustache" -- spaghetti, which in Italian means "string," sounds a bit less disgusting.

Considering the long history of political intrigue within the church, perhaps when the sweeping reforms of Vatican II were being assembled, mostaccioli manufacturers exerted pressure to get their product named the Official Food of Large Catholic Gatherings. (Vatican II, you will note, took place before the practice of official sponsorships was common.)

Most likely, though, as with many other aspects of this venerable faith, the serving of mostaccioli is just tradition.

Whatever the reason, if you are Catholic you are brought into the world with mostaccioli and taken out of the world with mostaccioli. And at every important event in your life -- baptism, confirmation, marriage, birthdays, early parole -- your friends and family are happily munching mostaccioli.

When I was about 11, I developed an aversion for the dish after I got extremely sick and splattered half-digested, tube-shaped pasta all over my room. Not a pleasant sight, unless you really dig abstract art.

For several years after that, I couldn't even look at the stuff without becoming nauseous. Unfortunately, that made me a bit of a pariah. Non-mostaccioli eating Catholics are viewed with suspicion by the faithful.

Luckily, I eventually overcame my fears and can again consume the stuff with few ill effects, though I would still prefer spaghetti.

My latest mostaccioli-eating occasion was early this week following the funeral of a close friend's father.

The death of a loved one is never an easy time, and people deal with it in different ways. Some become emotional wrecks; others become obsessive with drink, food, work or anything that takes their minds off their loss.

For my friend and his family it was humor. That may seem an inappropriate way to grieve, but you do what works.

The deceased was heavily involved in the church and the Catholic schools through which he put four children. He was so respected that three priests officiated at his funeral Mass instead of the standard one.

However, during life he could never sit through an entire Mass. At some point he would invariably pop out to stretch his legs and take a smoke.

During the Mass, one relative noted that this was the first time the deceased -- stuck in the casket as he was -- ever made it through an entire service. Sick and twisted, yes, but it certainly lightened up a heavy occasion.

Similar comments were tossed about with such frequency as people reflected on my friend's father and his life and foibles that it seemed more like we were at a roast than a wake. That's probably how he would have liked it; the man enjoyed a lively party.

Being able to share grief, in whatever form it takes, is why these gatherings are so important. They provide one final chance for people to collectively reflect on the good things about a person and really drive home how good the rest of us have it.

And no food is more comforting in such situations than mostaccioli.

Marc Powers is a member of the Southeast Missourian news staff.