Winter Waxing Wild Moon (a wonderful thin crescent turned upward toward Venus, the bright evening star)
Went into Mary Broderick’s retirement party this afternoon. A fine affair with the obligatory good noises and a gracious speech by Mary.
It seemed, though, a bit formulaic, a ritual with parts: the buffet with an assortment of snack-like food, people milling around wondering how that one there knows our Mary, tables set out with small candles (though in this case they were small lights made to look like flickering table candles), a receiving line. It was clear Mary moved these folks to good ends.
The flavor of the whole had a heavy dose of institutional Catholic. The decor while updated (by Mary) had a non-ostentatious feel, but a studied one. Mary mentioned the several Catholic organizations with whom she worked, thanking them. I wondered how someone of her vitality and intelligence could thrive within the often sclerotic bureaucracy of Catholicism.
It all had a Northeast flavor, the old Northeast, a Catholic immigrant neighborhood where caring for each other was the norm. A mix of good will, old ways and downhome charm.