I tore the ligaments in my right foot some years ago and was walking on crutches. We went into a small restaurant, and at least three people made a joke about my husband hitting me, including the waitress. I was appalled.
I had two favorite stories from my mother; one was about the Hurricane of ‘38 and the other was about Pearl Harbor. The family had gone to Mass and she and her mother were walking to a friend’s house when someone threw open an upstairs window and called the news down to them. Later in the afternoon, they all got together and went to church—not for a service, just to pray. I can almost see it; the older church, the dark wood pews, the scent of hot wax and incense, the flickering candles, people softly crying…
Everyone knows that one, Red: PILGRIMS!