“Remember, Jimmy,
NEVER marry a catholic!”
The joy of a Mother always
ready with cryptic advice.
“Great, Mom.” I keep the rest
of my words in my head.
As if I care about marriage. And, let’s be
honest I have no idea what a catholic is.
But I was ten, maybe eleven, and curious.
So, next trip to Fred’s I wander the aisles.
Produce, dairy, cereal and bread.
Honest. I tried, really hard.
No luck, wasted effort. I was
unable to find a “catholic.”
Try as I might I couldn’t figure out
what color they were.
