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I grew up in a Catholic family. A daughter of a Catholic Cop. While we went to church each Sunday, we never discussed the Mass on the ride and never discussed it on the ride home. The ride to Church often included Annie hollering for us to get in the car, and many times the ride included arguing, tension, and fights. I never remember my dad going with us. Well, except for that Easter Sunday when my green outfit with yellow Knee-High Socks got ruined. Typically, just my mother, brother, and sister. We were obedient Catholic kids during Mass. Images were important to Annie. We knew when to sit, stand, and kneel. When I knelt for prayer during Mass, I would always peek out to see if others were also peeking or following form. You could say that the outcome of my childhood memories of Catholic church included a tense ride to mass, mastery of Sit, Stand, Kneel, leaving mass early to beat the exiting drivers, racing home, and never speaking of the service.
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