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DANIEL JOSEPH YEATS (D.J., 20) is the eldest child of JOY HOPE (Joy, 43, petite) and DOUGLAS JAMES YEATS (Doug, 46, burly six-footer).  D.J.’s two siblings are MARGARET ANN (Peggy, 17, nubile) and ANGUS BARTHOLOMEW (Angus, 10, runt).

Growing up in a stalwart Catholic family in a large city in the South, D.J. faithfully attended Mass every Sunday and the Perpetual Help Novena every Tuesday night.  He prayed the rosary several times a week and has taken Communion on the requisite nine-in-a-row First Fridays to guarantee he does not go to hell when he dies.  As a backup assurance against damnation, however, he wears a miniature Carmelite scapular around his neck, even in the shower.  However, because of a phobia of Confession and the confessional, he goes to Confession only when required to avoid committing a mortal sin, or when hounded by his mother.

Becoming an altar boy at 10, D.J. became fascinated by the trappings of the liturgy: shiny vessels and vestments, the smell of votive candles and incense, and the ringing of church bells and the singing of hymns.  D.J. could be counted on to show up without fail to serve the 6:00 AM masses at St. Phillip Parish.  His dad, Doug, was always up early in the morning, getting ready to go to work at Goldman's Mill Supply, and so waking up D.J. to serve mass did not strain the morning routine.  Angus, sleeping soundly in the top bunk, never stirred.  When he was 12, D.J. took his camera to church and shot an amateurish but ambitious photo essay on the ritual objects and vestments of the mass.  This project astonished his teachers and the parish priests.

When D.J. was in the eighth grade at St. Phillip Parochial School, he was a favorite of the nuns of the Order of Mother Mary the Obedient (OMMO).  A conscientious student who consistently ranked first in his class academically, D.J. was the favorite of his teacher, Sr. Mary Benjamin, OMMO.  She often talked to D.J. about his "vocation," as if his “calling” were something everyone one knew about and could plainly see – all except D.J.  D.J. didn't know God was calling him to the priesthood until Sr. Benjamin told him so.  And told him, and told him.

Occasionally, Msgr. Howard Hopper, the pastor of St. Phillip, would visit Sr. Benjamin's classroom.  D.J. noticed that the two would always have a few words in private as the nun told the priest something about the students.  The monsignor would then speak to the eighth graders about the religious life and vocations to the priesthood.  After the priest's talk on how God speaks to young Catholics about their callings, he always took D.J. and D.J.'s altar boy pal Milton Maestri out of class.

Msgr. Hopper usually took the boys to a drive-in where he bought them hamburgers, French fries, and chocolate malts.  The pastor drove a huge black Buick with a radio he always played loudly.  He drove fast and liked to brake suddenly at stoplights.  D.J. and Milton were glad to get out of school and liked the attention.  The monsignor told them how wonderful the life of a priest was.  He told them it meant sacrifices (unspecified), but also many joys in knowing they were doing God's will.  He told them they would be rewarded mightily in the coming Kingdom.  D.J. and Milton weren't so sure what that meant, but the chocolate malts were tasty, so who cared.

The pastor never failed to ask the boys if they had yet decided to enter the seminary.  He told them it would be a grave sin not to listen to God's call to them to become priests.  One Friday afternoon on the front seat of the Buick, D.J. blurted out a "yes" to the priest's ritual inquiry about entering the seminary.  It surprised D.J. that he said yes, since he had only recently gotten up enough nerve to kiss his "girlfriend" Diana at a CYO dance.  The monsignor said he would speak to D.J.’s parents that evening and tell them the wonderful news.  He said he would also bring over the paperwork and explain the procedures for entering St. Mark Seminary in the fall.

Milton kept eating the hamburgers and French fries and drinking the malts, but he never said “yes” to God and God's insistent talent scout, Msgr. Howard Hopper.  Milton went on to high school and later started working for his dad, a plumbing contractor.  Milton told D.J., “You will never ever make it to being a priest.”  D.J. insisted that he would, because it was God’s will.  Priests do God’s work on earth, and what could be more important than that.

Despite his blossoming interest in the redheaded Diana, and the brown-haired Margaret, and the blond Ingrid, and not at all sure about a life with no girlfriends (just when it was getting interesting), D.J. answered God's calling.  His happy mother, Joy, helped him get together all the things he needed, buying him new clothes, underwear, and shoes.  She gladly sewed laundry tags with his name and laundry number in all of his clothing.  Joy packed his trunk and stuffed it with surprises and treats that he would find when he unpacked at St. Mark’s.

In the fall of 1962 D.J. entered St. Mark Seminary blindly, but trusting that through prayer and meditation he would come to understand his vocation, and celibacy.  He reassured himself by reading the story of how St. Thomas Aquinas grabbed a hot poker from his fireplace to chase off a buxom seductress dispatched by his family to lure the Divine Doctor out of the priesthood.  D.J. had also been drawn to the heroic qualities of other valiant saints, especially St. John Marie Vianney, the Curé d'Ars.  Msgr. Hopper gave D.J. a large silver medal of St. John Vianney, an icon that he wore faithfully around his neck along with his miniature Carmelite scapular.  D.J. prays to the Curé that he will become a priest as holy and devout as the late French parish priest.

D.J. has brown eyes and hair, is lean but not skinny, and is semi-athletic.  A six-footer as an adult, he grows more handsome as he gets older.  He is insightful and sociable, but reserved.  He is insatiably curious and driven, and thrives as a risk taker.  A sensitive stomach makes him prone to upchucking when stressed.  He is a photographer, an avid reader, and a daydreamer.