Sunday Schooled

Sunday Schooled

I’ve shared my thoughts about raising Detective Munch with religion before. I’ve even discussed why he was circumcised (COME AT ME, BRO!).

But as a Catholic so lapsed the term just plain doesn’t apply anymore, I’m a little conflicted. I definitely think some of the more universal values Christianity teaches (kindness, discipline, humility) do a kid good, and despite the problematic trappings, it’s a decent delivery system for them. And yet, he’s never been to church. Until yesterday.

Growing up, I went to Church every weekend, and my parents still do. And although I’m not sure how well years of catechism and church-going and Catholic high school did me, we are currently living with my parents. And “when in Rome,” right?

So went along to Easter mass. And my son took it about as seriously as I do. Consider Sunday schooled.

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Forget the Titans

Forget the Titans

The first Super Bowl I remember seeing was the Redskins/Raiders in 1983. My parents sent me to bed before the game was over but I snuck onto the stairs and listened as best I could from around the corner. I didn’t miss much. The Raiders won 38-9.

That Raiders blowout was sandwiched between a Dolphins loss I don’t remember (the year before, to the Redskins) and a Dolphins loss I do remember (the following year, to the 49ers). Man, it’s been a long time since they’ve been in that game. Like Marino himself, I expected a lot more than just that one.

Hopefully my son will get luckier than me.

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