After the Paris Bombings
I lent my Daily Missal, which had been published before they dropped the Latin, to Robin. Though she had been raised a Catholic in an Irish-Italian suburb of Boston in the sixties, had even been a “choir boy” until she saw the light, so to speak, it could have been the Koran for all she knew, and I had to agree. I was as reluctant to take it back as she was to keep it, for the relentless litany of martyrdoms and persecutions reminded us a little too much of CNN. And of something Joe Brainard once said on the problem of history: it seems like every day is the anniversary of something awful.