Church of my Childhood

Yesterday the church of my childhood, Immaculate Conception in Jenkintown, PA., began its sesquicentennial jubilee celebration.   As I had been in the Church recently for a funeral, the pastor, Msgr. David Diamond, found out about my connection and invited me to the opening Mass of the jubilee year.   At that altar (in the old configuration) I learned the Latin responses of the altar server and I remember early Christmas day Mass kneeling with other kids at that altar rail.   Yesterday, of course, the servers were both boys and girls and all was in English.  

The windows along the nave are all of this pattern.  Lighting in this church as in many is much improved and even the stain glass windows looked more brilliant than they were seventy years ago.

I thought someone in the crowded congregation might come up to me and remember my parents or our name.   Nobody did but some recent acquaintances of mine from the Prep.   I, of course, remembered my parents and siblings always there on Sunday.    After Mass we bought the breakfast cinnamon buns at the bakery across the street (now something else).   And I remembered names of our classmates: Hentz and Fox and Bailey and so forth.