A Type of Communion

I was among a crowd of mostly women, the people who bear the country’s weight of education—it was the seasonal meeting of the Levittown Retired Teachers.  I was at a table opposite two young grade school teachers from the Abbey Lane School, fourth and third grade respectively, and I knew I was looking at the face of God’s angels.  Of course by “young” I meant younger than I.

            They were attentive to my contributions to the conversation, and I found out one came from Middle Island and the other from Niagara Falls.  They were discreet.  When we discussed politics they merely acknowledged Donald Trump made some courtesy errors, and when I mentioned my Catholic education, they quickly admitted they’d been educated in Catholic schools.  One was Polish, and before the meeting was over we agreed the Poles had effected the end of Western Civilization’s bout with Communism.

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