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What do you get when you combine 1 grandmother + 1 Instamatic camera + 1 nine-year-old in a new sweater? This:

In the mail today, I got a membership card for this. I’m going to go lie down.

My mother used to love to tell this story: It was New Year’s Eve, 1948. The snow was falling, the wind was howling. And the man who would be my father showed up at her doorstep with a huge box in his arms, wrapped in colorful Christmas paper. What was this? A present? A week…

Your Humble Blogger, with Fr. Frank Passenant and my pastor, Msgr. Joe Funaro, just before Midnight mass.
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