![]() Like any good geek, I escaped into books, managing culture shock through full immersion in the literature of the South, perhaps hoping to find translation of a dialect that I struggled to interpret at times. So, for the first time in my young life, both in fashion and in faith, I was an exile, a middle school outcast. Because my dad found no Catholic schools that met his standards for academics and faith-training, I was required to become a “public,” figuring out for the first time what to wear in place of a plaid jumper and white blouse. ![]() ![]() I knew a few “publics” who were neighbors, but most of the kids I associated with said grace before dinner made first communions and could kneel, stand, and respond in Mass without much thought.īut then my parents, younger sister, and I moved to the Bible Belt from Ohio. ![]() I went to a parochial school and was surrounded by a big Irish family at almost every waking moment. Before turning 13, being Catholic was easy for me. ![]()
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