I grew up within a mixed marriage, Catholic Mom and a Dad who stood silently on the side, letting Mom call the shots about us kid’s spiritual upbringing. He put on his suit for Sunday mass only twice a year, Easter and Christmas. Other than those two days my father let my Mom go it alone.

Every Sunday, every Holy Day of Obligation, Mom loaded us into our station wagon, a proper brood of shining, bathed children, four boys with crew…