The cards were inconspicuous enough. Several small slips of yellow cardboard piled neatly at the end of our pew, silently asking for information. “What are the respective ages of you and those family members attending this mass?” it read. Behind us, Ms. Pat, our next-door neighbor whispers while the collection baskets circulate among the congregation.
“Better fill this thing out guys. I usually forget this nonsense, but if they don’t meet their quota, they’ll cancel 7:30 mass. You know what that means . . .” Continue reading