Unlike yesterday’s brief greeting by an old Filipina golfer with the wooden teeth and her husband who asked of me: “How’s’ work”, this morning’s mass went without incident.
Sometimes and whenever there is little to no crowd or whenever the three of us are NOT in a hurry, I would shake the hand of the priest, who normally stands outdoors and just beyond the lobby.
This morning I shook the hand of Father Michael and instead of responding to my “Good morning”, he offered a slight nod of his head for the first time. I then mumbled: “Merci”. Perhaps, the cat’s got his tongue or he’s got a gerbil in this throat. Who knows?
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