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Jeny briefly had two tickets to Pope-a-palooza. Just her and 25,000 of her closest friends on the west lawn of the capital building. She had been smart enough to put in for tickets through our representative's office. However, she had made plans to go camping that day with our daughter, and in my daughter's world, a special camping trip to the beach beats the Pope. So, no Papacy in the household.

Papists. That's a veiled racist term for Italians and Poles around the turn of the century (not that they veiled their racism back then).

Meanwhile, I fed the cat and went to work. I had no desire to wedge myself down onto the capital, only to see the Pontiff on a big screen.