There’s Something About Mary

My friend Mary likes Montclair, and drove over for a visit today. She arrived to pick me up at 9:30 a.m. and dropped me back off about 2:30, just after Punch had returned from her visit to Mimi’s (in time for 3:30 soccer practice).

We had so much fun. It felt like we went to another city, that we had traveled somewhere on a trip.

Mary and I met at Dumont High School. We were in the same homeroom. I often think of her and some close conversations we had back then. And I think of her father, because he taught us high schoolers a prayer on a Catholic weekend retreat called Search for Christian Maturity. It was a very emotional weekend.

Mr. Florio, now about 90, told us then that every day when he woke up, he said this prayer:

Good morning, sweet Jesus, my Savior,

Good morning, sweet Mary, my mother.

I give you my heart, my soul and my life

And you keep me from sin forever this day. Amen. (I may have the last few words wrong.)

That prayer still pops into my mind a lot when I wake up. I’m grateful.

Today we strolled on Church Street.--sipped cappuccinos and had breakfast outdoors at Raymond’s. We browsed a long time in the Montclair Antique Center--everything from pop art to Lucite, jewelry, compacts, cigarette cases, even a 1948 bicycle in mint condition. Wow.

Our day involved prosciutto, gelato, hurrying back to the parking meter twice to add more money and visiting Anthropologie. It felt good to be out in the sun with an old friend--someone who knew me as a teenager. I was touched that Mary remembered my mother’s funeral Mass--it was a blur of grief in a crowded church and I didn’t register everyone there.

Good night, Mary--and Mr. Florio.