Two Iconic And Still Standing Images From My Childhood!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                  The weekend is over, girls, and yes, I did go to the reunion.  More on that another time.  This was on Sunday, the morning after, when David and I attended mass at St. Paul's Church in Highland Park. I was baptized there.  There I am standing in front of the church.  And here I am beside the glass window, depicting the conversion of St. Paul.  It was in the pew adjacent to this my father, and I sat in all our years of attending St. Paul's.  This was my first time in there in at least forty years, and I was amazed at the sameness of this. It really transported me in time.

                                     However, not all at St. Paul's remains the same.  The sign outside still designates itself as "St. Paul The Apostle Church," but its actual name is "Transfiguration Of The Lord Parish."  While Highland Park's Catholic population was always low, it has gotten lower, so that this parish has had to emerge with Guardian Angels, on Plainfield Avenue, in Edison, NJ.  And years ago, St. Paul's School was torn down, and, according to what I was told, if you are Catholic in Highland Park, and want to go to parochial school, one is bused to St. Matthew's on Prospect Avenue, in Edison.  My cousins, growing up there, went to that school, until they moved to Florida in 1968.

                                       The altar and baptismal font have been moved around, there is less statuary, and I am not sure if the confessionals are closed or enabled to have open faced reconciliations.  But most of all, the congregation was so welcoming.  Before the mass, the priest, seeing we are newcomers, talked with us, and welcomed David and I.  He got my history of growing up in the town, and this being my parish.  He was touched, and during the sermon--it was Trinity Sunday--introduced David and I, mentioned our being from Brooklyn, and got applause when we waved our hands and looked around, greeting the congregation.  Several people spoke to us kindly, after the service, and on older man, when I mentioned our family name, and my father's connection to Fordham, said it was a familiar name to him.

                                        The whole weekend was rather healing, but this especially, and I have to thank my beloved David for pushing me to go.  Incidentally, when I went to St. Paul's back in the day, there was a Saturday evening mass at 5PM, which my father and I always attended.  Before that, Sunday masses were at 6:30, 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12o'clock.  Now, the only mass one can go to at this church is at 9:30AM on Sunday. And so we did.

                                           Remember the "Twilight Zone" episode "Walking Distance?"  That is what the whole weekend felt like.

                                             But, in the confines of this church, with David, I felt just a little bit redeemed.