I just got back from Dallas.

Husband and I just returned from his buddy’s wedding. It was a beautiful wedding, and it overflowed with Catholicity. If various popes were there, they would have thoroughly approved. It quoted Humanae Vitae in the program. It featured a schola. It took place in a church with an altar rail. THAT WAS USED.

So it was a very nice wedding!

This was the first shindig of the wedding season (and our first as a married pair). Two more this year and likely a third, depending on timing.

Dallas was an interesting city, large and hot. To my dismay I only heard one genuine Southern accent during the entire weekend. There was much Southern hospitality available, however.

We stayed in a wealthy, suburban part of the town. We walked around for lunch and observed placards advertising elegant gray townhomes (starting in the $700,000s the signs said). They looked like French estates, with tall black gates barring access to manicured stone courtyards and humming fountains. Impressive and not too incongruous, because they were surrounded by hipster eateries and expensive shops. At one point we drove by a luxury dentistry called Mint. Clever!

Of course on the other side of town there was the ghetto and empty lots full of McDonald’s refuse. Evidently people liked to go to the lot, stand there, eat their Big Mac, and then leave the wrapper for the rats. I have heard that people are either very rich or very poor in Dallas and that seems to be the case.

There was no parking to be had, anywhere. We hoofed it around town for the most part. This was good because it helped me burn off part of the delicious food which I began inhaling from the moment our plane touched down.

We hoofed our way around downtown Dallas until we reached the Grassy Knoll. There was an X in the street marking the spot where the fatal bullet struck President Kennedy. Teenagers (and adults too) were running into the street and having their pictures taken pointing at the X with wide grins on their faces. It didn’t seem right at a murder scene where the blood is still relatively fresh, violence that is still in living memory. His daughter is still alive.

There were men walking up and down the street enthusiastically selling reproduction newspapers bearing the tidings of woe. We dodged them.

We paid $27 to go up to the 6th floor in the Texas School Book Depository. We took an audio tour and stared out the windows onto the street. The trees were wearing a heavy cape of leaves that obscured most of the pavement. Were the branches naked in November?

It made me reflective and somber, and though I liked Texas well enough I was glad to come home to Ohio. We have never killed a president here. Plenty of regular people, but never a president. As of this date, in the year of Our Lord 2012.


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