A Palm Sunday memory
Back in the old days, when our kids were too young to resist parental guidance and before Sharon and I soured on the Catholic Church and the sins wrought by its corrupt hierarchy, we had a Palm Sunday tradition.
We’d gather, at 9 a.m., with other members of St. John Student Parish, at Beaumont Tower on the MSU campus. Then, carrying palm fronds and singing a hymn, we’d make the short march - procession style - to the church, for 9:15 mass.
In a family text exchange yesterday, the kids cracked the usual gentle Palm Sunday jokes about the ritual.
In an unrelated incident, which ultimately became related, Sharon and I decided to take our glass, metal, etc. to the MSU recycling center yesterday. We knew there was a decent chance we would find it closed because of the pandemic, and it was.
But since we were already there, we decided to park our car and take a walk through the campus. Somehow, we ended up at Beaumont Tower and decided to retrace the steps of our former life.
Although we carried no palm fronds and couldn’t remember all the words to the hymn, we nonetheless shared some rich reminiscences on a sunny spring day.













