As the year dies, it is only natural that our thoughts turn to musings on our own mortality. For Catholics, Halloween is not only about pumpkins and trick-or-treating; it is the eve of the Feast of All Saints, followed immediately by the Feast of All Souls, days set aside for us to remember and pray for the dead.
As we get older it becomes harder to ignore the fact that every second that passes brings us that much closer to our own deaths. Children, for whom time seems almost to stand still so that the time between Christmases feels infinite, usually don’t think about the inevitability of death as we do.
But children will encounter death, some sooner than others, and how we prepare them for this and help them deal with it when it comes is important.
There doesn’t have to be some big moment where you sit your kids down and explain death to them. Better for it to be introduced early, before they can really comprehend it, as a natural process. You can start with what your kids encounter as they play–dead insects. If they’ve heard you talking about the fact that an insect is dead from infancy, they’ll always have at least a vague concept of what death is, which you can flesh out later when they have questions. Tell them that the insect got tired and old and its body couldn’t work anymore, so it was time for it to die.
When they ask questions about their own eventual deaths or yours, it’s best to reassure them by saying that they–and you–are still very young and it will be a long time before you die. There’s no need to muddy the waters at this point with discussions of death by accident or illness. Sadly, there will no doubt come a time when you will have to answer those kinds of questions.
My children had their first close encounter with death when my grandmother died. They were 16, 13, 12, six, and three at the time. They knew Mima well so they were definitely affected by her death and I felt they should be a part of it. We told the little ones that, like the insects, Mima was old and her body had worn out, but we also added that she had gone to Heaven to be with God as we all hope to one day. (I personally don’t think that it’s particularly necessary or useful to bring up the concept of Purgatory with little kids right when they are grieving the loss of a loved one.)
We took all the kids with us to the funeral home. The open casket was at the far end of the room and we let the kids decide whether to approach. Lorelei and her cousin Ella, who were three and five at the time, were interested and spent time looking at Mima. William, who was six, did not want to look at her and stayed at the other end of the room. The children also attended the funeral Mass and the graveside service.
It’s very important not to impose your own–or other people’s–expectations or interpretations on the grieving of children. They may not look as upset as you think they should look, but don’t make assumptions. When my dog was hit by a car when I was four, I was very upset, too upset to even talk about it. I will never forget an adult making the comment that it didn’t seem like I cared very much. So keep in mind that your children may need space to grieve, or they may need for you to draw them out so that they can express their feelings or ask questions. I was very impressed by a friend whose husband died when their son was about ten years old. He wanted to go sit with his friends at the funeral. Some people might have insisted that he sit up front with the family but she gave him the space he needed and allowed him to find comfort with his friends.
Many children’s first experience with death is the loss of a pet. My children experienced this for the first time a couple of years ago, when we had to put our elderly dog to sleep. Lorelei and William accompanied me to the veterinarian and we all supported each other. I was proud of how brave they were and how they comforted our dog through the process, constantly petting him and reassuring him with loving words. When kids lose a pet they will almost certainly ask you if the pet will go to Heaven. The best answer I’ve heard to that question is that when you go to Heaven and want your pet, he will be there.
Like everything else, children will learn more from your actions around death than your words. Do you talk about how you miss those who have died, or do your avoid discussing uncomfortable feelings? Do you pray for those who have died and encourage your children to join in? (That’s when you can explain about Purgatory!) Do you lead by example by attending funerals of those you know whenever possible and encouraging your children to come when appropriate?
My grandfather died when I was 13, and his was the first funeral I ever attended. For years I was uncomfortable with the whole idea of “viewing” the body, and dreaded going to funerals. But forcing myself to attend many out of a sense of duty and obligation over the past several years changed my attitude. In one tragic week several summers ago, a high school friend’s son committed suicide, the father of one of Teddy’s football teammates died in an accident, and the father of one of his classmates committed suicide. I took Teddy to the funeral of one father, and he accompanied me to take food to the family of the other one. Set an example for your children with your actions when death touches you, and encourage their participation, and they will internalize the value of these rituals and will not fear them.
This post is part of the Catholic Women Bloggers Network Bloghop. For more writing on this topic, click below.
“Blood is thicker than water,” was one of my maternal grandmother’s favorite sayings. Family was everything to her. She was extremely proud of her Southern and Irish roots, and often shared tales—possibly apocryphal—of the family history. We are blessed to have many heirlooms and photographs that breathed life into her tales of those long-ago family members. I never knew my great-grandmother, but I was brought up on stories about her beauty and grace. I loved to admire her portrait, and to play under the intricately carved table that had come down to my grandmother through her, part of a set that’s been in the family longer than anyone can remember.
I internalized the stories and the reverence for the past and felt its influence on the present. And when I grew up I became interested in my father’s side of the family as well, and conducted lazy internet genealogy research to learn more. I’ve built a family tree that goes back many generations on both sides, and have learned that my roots are not only Irish but English, Dutch, and German as well.
Family heritage encompasses many things. Families pass down language–my Alabama roots are four generations back now but in my family we still use some expressions that are not native to East Tennessee. Families pass down heirlooms like the table and chairs I mentioned, the prie-dieu on which my great-grandparents knelt to be married, the silver coffee and tea service. Families pass down genetic material, as I think you can see in the comparison pictures of my youngest child and her great-great-great-great grandmother below. And families pass down religion.
Read the rest at Everyday Ediths.
I sat at my desk, head down, long hair hiding my face. On the blue folder in front of me, in Catholic-school cursive, I wrote the word miserable over and over again, covering the folder in a graphite cri de couer, addressed to no one in particular.
I was in the 8th grade, and my best friend had—as I saw it–abandoned me. The visceral memory of those friendless days still hurts, decades later. Being friendless in grade school meant being picked last in gym class, going partnerless for class room activities, sitting alone at lunch.
I’d enjoyed the company of a succession of what they now call BFFs from the time I started Montessori school at three until that point. I’d counted on having that one person who liked me best. After that heartbreaking half year (until high school began and I landed in a close circle of friends), I never wanted to feel loneliness like that again.
Read the rest at Everyday Ediths!
A couple of years ago I started creating quotation images of the Blessed Mother to share on my blog’s Facebook page during the month of May. I’ve been meaning to gather them into one post, and this month’s CWBN blog hop, with a theme of Mary, My Mother, is the perfect occasion for that.
All the photographs are mine, taken with my iPhone.
This was taken at the grotto at Spring Hill College in Mobile, Alabama. My oldest child, Emily, graduated in 2013.
This comes from the grotto at the University of Notre Dame. Our middle son, Teddy, graduated in May 2017. Some day I hope I can return to Lourdes to take some pictures of the original grotto. The ones I took with my little Kodak camera in 1984 aren’t up to my current standards. 😉
This statue is in the flowerbed in front of our house. For some reason, my younger kids think that Mary likes to be decorated with lots and lots of handmade rosaries.
We are not parishioners at All Saints, which is the closest church to our home, but we do enjoy walking there. This statue is in their Marian garden right along the walking trail.
Another shot of our statue, which was originally a housewarming gift when we moved into our second home in December 2001.
The picture in this photograph hangs in the art museum on the Notre Dame campus.
Emily gave me this icon for Christmas a couple of years ago. I can’t even describe how much I love it.
We don’t have that sweet little kitten anymore, but the statue was one of the few things that survived our house fire in 2001. It was far enough away from the house not to suffer any damage.
This hangs on a wall in the student center at Notre Dame.
I took this one in the garden of a downtown Dallas church when I was visiting my sister there.
This picture of Lorelei and William was taken in our church basement many years ago when they were participating in a play during the annual Advent Workshop.
Late summer in my garden.
This statue is also located in the art museum at Notre Dame.
The statue of the Blessed Mother at my own parish, Immaculate Conception, relocated from her usual spot for the annual May Crowning.
A detail from another picture from Notre Dame’s museum.
This is another view of the statue in the Marian garden at All Saints.
I love this picture because of the icicles and snow, which I don’t often get a chance to photograph.
Another shot of Notre Dame’s grotto. Don’t miss it if you ever visit the campus.
And finally, one last look at Our Lady of Spring Hill.
I will update this post as I create new images. Do you have any special quotations about Mary that you would suggest?
This post is part of the CWBN Siena Sisters Blog Hop. Please click the image below for more posts about Mary, My Mother.
And if you’ve scrolled down this far, here’s a video version!
When I was a little girl, I hated going to Mass.
My father wasn’t Catholic, and we all know how hard it is to take little kids to Mass. So for the first six years of my life, I mostly stayed home on Sundays with Daddy. Sometimes we’d drop my mother off and then go out for waffles at Krystal, or drive around the cones in the parking lot, or visit the Torchbearer statue. Other times we’d stay home and watch Rocky and Bullwinkle. Either option was way more fun than church, in my opinion, and I was resentful when it came time to prepare for First Communion when I was told I’d have to attend regularly from then on while my sister got to be the one to stay home and have fun.
So the very first thing I resolved upon having children is that they would attend Mass every Sunday from babyhood on up. That way, I reasoned, they would be used to it and accept it as just what you do on a Sunday.
We followed through with this, starting about two weeks after each one was born and dressing them in a special “first day at church” outfit that was my husband’s when he was a baby.
But we didn’t want to be the folks who just showed up for one hour on Sunday. We wanted our kids to feel like a part of the community. I joined–and later ran–the weekly Moms’ Group, which we attended weekly from the time I was expecting Jake until Teddy started kindergarten. So my kids had friends to visit with at church on Sunday, just like I did. We attended every parish social event. John became very involved in the Knights of Columbus and our kids came along to Masses and picnics and even conventions.
When it was time for school we enrolled them in the same parochial school I attended. With an occasional break for homeschooling, my first three kids were in Catholic school from kindergarten through high school, receiving an excellent religious education, making mostly Catholic friends, and benefiting from the intertwining of Catholic values into every aspect of the school day.
But we didn’t leave religion for school and Sundays! I minored in Theology at Georgetown and our family thrives on continued education, conversation, and debate. So we discussed the faith, explained it, answered questions. We owned and used a Catechism. We talked frequently about the importance of faith in daily life, and how our values should impact the way we live in the world. I chaired the Deanery Respect Life Committee and wrote for the Catholic press. John rose in the KOC ranks. Both of us served long terms on our parish council. And our kids heard about it all.
We said morning prayers and prayers before meals. We had an Advent wreath and a Jesse Tree. Our house was Catholic in appearance, with religious pictures and statues in almost every room, complete with a kitchen Madonna on the window sill and a picture of Mary hanging laundry next to the washing machine.
In short, we took the job of raising Catholic kids very seriously indeed. I grew up hearing about “fallen away” Catholics. I knew big Catholic families where one of the kids had stopped going to Mass. I often wondered what had gone wrong with those kids, since personally I could no more imagine leaving Catholicism intentionally than I could imagine willfully ceasing to breathe.
So there you have my tips for raising Catholic kids. I suppose I could have done more, but most of my child rearing happened before I discovered the Catholic blogosphere. I thought rigorously celebrating Advent was pretty hard core. I didn’t know anyone who had in-home rituals for celebrating every liturgical feast. If I’d known about those celebrations, I would probably have incorporated some of that into our family’s life as well.
Honestly, I’ve written this post in my head for months, ever since I knew this topic was on the CWBN agenda, and I’ve been dreading it. Because today I have five kids, aged 12, 16, 22, 23, and 26. From my own experience and that of others I know that young adults are not always regular in their practice of the faith of their youth, for whatever reasons. Typically this resolves itself after marriage and children if not before. But without going into great detail because at this age their stories are not mine to tell, there is a real possibility that despite all this Catholic upbringing at least one of my kids will be in that “fallen away” camp, and I won’t pretend that doesn’t break my heart.
Whatever happens, I’m confident that many Catholic values are imprinted on the hearts of my children and that they possess a Catholic worldview whether they realize it or not.
Click below for more personal stories on keeping kids Catholic from the other ladies of the Catholic Women’s Blogging Network.
Growing up, one of my most prized possessions was my Webster’s Third New International Dictionary. One of those massive volumes you see (or used to) at the library, it was very expensive, and my grandmother bought it for me so that I could look up pronunciations for the words in my Spelling Bee book. Before that my father had to go to the library and spend an entire day using their copy!
I lost my dictionary when my house burned down, but it had been years since I’d needed it, the Internet having taken its place as the ultimate reference tool. But I still have that impulse to look up words, especially when I’m seeking inspiration in my writing.
As I sat down to write my piece on Mission, with many ideas already swirling in my head, I looked up the meaning and history of the term, to confirm what I thought I knew: that mission comes from a Latin word meaning “to send.” Why do I know this? Because many priests have mentioned it in the context of explaining that the final words of the Latin Mass: “Ite, missa est,” should be interpreted as a charge to the assembly, that we are being sent forth to do God’s work in the world.
You can read the rest here: Everyday Ediths
Leaps of faith are a fact of life in our family. Our family life has been built on radical acts of trusting that everything would work out one way or the other.
John and I had been married eleven months and had a baby on the way when we abandoned good jobs in Washington, D.C. and moved back to my hometown, where we had family but no prospects at all. Oh, we tried to find jobs before moving, but our failure didn’t put a damper on our plans in the least. In the year it took for John to gain resident status so he would be eligible for in-state tuition at the University of Tennessee College of Law, he worked at the UT Traffic Office by day and sold shoes by night. I got a secretarial job just weeks before I could no longer conceal my pregnancy, which would have severely limited my ability to find a good job.
We had one kid by the time John started law school and the third was on the way by the time he passed the bar exam. There were hard and scary times, uncertain times, and often it was only looking back at what we’d been through that we could see how our prayers were always answered. Not necessarily in the way that we thought we wanted them to be, not always immediately, but always, in God’s time.
Read the rest at Everyday Ediths!
As I do every month, I’m linking up today with the Siena Sisters Catholic Women’s Blogging Network Hop. You can see from the title of my post what I am supposed to be writing about. And wouldn’t you think I’d have been brimming over with things to say? Yet I’ve found myself struggling and wondering why.
I’ve written before about why I remain a Catholic, and reiterated many of those sentiments in a later post where I explained how intrinsic my faith is to my very identity. And maybe that’s why this is hard. Maybe it’s because being Catholic isn’t something I ever consciously chose. Maybe it’s because it’s too much a part for me to see it clearly. It’s like being asked why I love my mother or father. I could tell you things I like or love ABOUT them, but that’s not WHY I love them.
It’s entirely possible I am overthinking this, but I’m going to change focus just a bit and write about some things I love ABOUT my Catholic faith. Even that is hard, since there is nothing about it that I don’t love! But I’ll try to focus in on a few things, in no particular order.
- The Church is not a cult of personality. My feelings about a particular priest or even a particular Pope don’t affect my allegiance to the teachings and truth of the Church. The Church has survived all forms of corruption and we have Jesus’s own assurances that the Church shall prevail: “And I say to you: That you are Peter; and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” (Matthew 16:18)
- The Church is a repository of incredible wisdom. Just the other day, my husband I were discussing something we’d heard or read (I can’t remember what it was) and he said he wished that the Church had explained whatever it was. And I just laughed at him and said, “You haven’t looked it up, have you?” Because I knew that of course the Church has written about and explained it somewhere because the Church has explanations for everything! I take comfort in the fact that great minds have been exploring the mysteries of the universe and explicating the faith for centuries. The Church doesn’t rest on one person’s interpretation.
- Related to the above is that the Church has very clear rules, principles, and precepts, and they don’t change. The Church rises to the challenge of the modern world with nuanced explanations or interpretations or the application of old rules to new issues. It isn’t always easy to live up to the demands of the faith, but there is plenty of guidance available for those of us who want to try.
- All of the above sounds dry and intellectual, but I also find great solace in the fact that the Catholic faith has endured for so long and that it is practiced by so many around the globe. It is strengthening to know that I am united to so many other believers, past and present, especially the Saints, whose examples we as Catholics are blessed to be able to follow.
- Finally, I love the Church’s engagement with the world. I love that we are to be salt and light (Matthew 5:13-16) and that the Church provides us with clear directions on how to do that through the instructions of our Bishops. I love the Church’s commitment to social justice and its defense of life and human dignity from conception to natural death.
I’d love to hear from you! If you are Catholic, tell me in the comments why YOU love the faith, or what you love ABOUT it! If you aren’t tell me what you love about YOUR church! And if you’d like to read more reflections like this one, click the picture below.
Last night I told my daughter I felt like I had lived at least a month in the past week or so. Have you ever felt that way?
Because of all that I and my family have been through in the last twelve days, I find myself starting at my computer screen this morning praying for inspiration for the blog post I should have had ready to go last night at the very latest–last night when I was completing a 550 mile drive back from an unexpected funeral.
Wait a minute . . . inspiration is coming . . .
Read the rest at Everyday Ediths!
We’ve just returned from an epic weekend of graduation festivities as Teddy’s Notre Dame adventure has come to a close. Four years flew by, as they are wont to do when you have kids, and it won’t be long before I’ll be writing a melancholy post about having a child leave the nest for good to start adult life very far away.
But I won’t go there today! This weekend was fun and I didn’t feel melancholy, or too stressed, or anxious, or any other way I expected to feel. And I took lots of pictures!
We (and by “we” I mean me, John, Emily, William, and Lorelei) left Knoxville Thursday night and drove about halfway, stopping in Florence, Kentucky just outside Cincinnati. This enabled us to get a (relatively) early start the next morning and make it to Notre Dame by around three, because Teddy had plans for John and me.
We left the “little people” (which is surely a ridiculous thing to call them at this point) with Emily, who took them out to eat at a conveniently located (actually in the parking lot of the hotel!) Asian restaurant and then to the hotel pool, and headed for campus, where one of Teddy’s favorite political science professors had invited him and other students to attend a Mass and reception. This event was really for kids who were in a program that Teddy was not a part of, but it was lovely to start off the weekend with Mass in one of Notre Dame’s many beautiful residence hall chapels and then to meet some of his professors.
We didn’t get to stay long, though, because we had another event to attend. This one was a party hosted by Scott Malpass, Notre Dame’s CIO, for students in a program he sponsors at the university. These students were allowed to invite some of their friends, which was how we ended up at this utterly amazing party held downtown at Cafe Navarre.
Alcohol of all kinds flowed freely, along with canapes, caviar, a raw bar, a full buffet dinner . . . y’all, it was insane. Many people were having a VERY good time, and I enjoyed the people-watching and the music as well as the food.
Predictably, John and I tired of this before Teddy did, so we left him there and went back to the hotel, to get some sleep before the next full day of activities.
The next morning we were all invited to brunch at someone’s lake house, but I bowed out of that and Teddy took John, Jake, and Jessica (that’s Jake’s girlfriend–they had arrived late the night before and were crashing with Teddy at the house where he lived off campus with several friends). The rest of us drove over to campus because Lorelei and William had never seen the place and I wanted to show them a couple of things.
We started at the Grotto, then walked up to the Basilica, made sure we saw the Golden Dome, and stopped by Teddy’s residence hall, Saint Edward’s (called Steds by the boys, and the oldest one on campus). Then we took a short walk by one of the lakes. Notre Dame’s campus is huge, so if you are ever up that way and have limited time to spend, those are the sights I recommend you see. Of course, I took some pictures:
Then it was back to the hotel to change clothes and meet up with the rest of our people and time for the serious stuff to begin.
First up was the Political Science Senior Recognition Ceremony. Teddy is a Business School grad, but he double-majored in Finance and Poli Sci. We enjoyed this relatively short and low-key ceremony, where we were encouraged to clap and walk down as close as we could get to take pictures.
From here we walked straight across the parking lot to the Joyce Center, where so many of the events that have made up our Notre Dame experiences have taken place. We were attending the Baccalaureate Mass in the Purcell Pavilion, and we wanted to get there early enough to find a seat and avoid being placed in the overflow room.
We sat very high in the arena and had an hour to wait for Mass to begin. (There was a LOT of sitting and a LOT of waiting over this weekend, y’all!) There was music to make it more bearable–throughout the weekend the musicians were amazing and added so much to the experience.
There’s something special about attending Mass with thousands of other people. And, as always, we ended by singing the Alma Mater. I’ve said this before, but anyone you’ve ever heard complaining about Notre Dame’s lack of Catholic identity can’t have ever been there.
Next we attended a much-anticipated event: a catered dinner in the vacant lot across from the row of house where Teddy and 15 of his friends spent their Senior year. This event was planned by one of the mothers and many other families pitched in to help with the arrangements. I’ve met some of the mothers before, and it was great to get to see them again.
All the family joined us for this celebration, as well as my friend Mary Jo, who was in town visiting family. It was certainly a highlight of the weekend to catch up with her, and she came back to the hotel with us when the kids grew weary and wanted to leave (we left John and Jake and Jessica there with Teddy and they continued to have a great time!).
The threat of bad weather hung over the entire weekend, and it was raining pretty hard when we left the party (thankfully we had sprung for tents!). The administration decided to delay the start time of the commencement ceremony the next morning, for which we were very grateful!
Because of tight security, we needed to arrive around 8 a.m. and wait in a VERY long line (it moved pretty quickly, though). There were many items we were not allowed to bring inside, including umbrellas–but rain ponchos were provided! (It sprinkled at one point for maybe five minutes.) Once inside and seated we had a long wait ahead but it wasn’t so bad as there was music and several screens with pictures of the graduates lining up outside the stadium.
As is customary, the ceremony began with the academic procession, which took awhile as there were 2,081 graduates plus the faculty who had to get to their seats. Here is a picture showing the Business School candidates starting to come in.
The ceremony followed the usual predictable format for such events. If you’ve ever been to one you don’t need a description. I came expecting to be bored, to be honest. But I was wrong–very wrong–and this turned out to be a highlight of the weekend for all of us.
It started with the introduction of Vice-President Pence, who was the Commencement speaker. Around 100 kids stood up and quietly left the stadium as part of a previously planned protest. This wasn’t a surprise to many people, including the administration, who had already indicated there would be no repercussions for those who chose to participate, but it was a surprise to me!
Before you ask, no, Teddy did not walk out. And while I don’t have any issue with peaceful protests, I have a feeling Mr. Pence (who graciously took no notice of the protest and gave a largely unobjectionable, if unremarkable, speech) was more impacted by the other two speeches we heard than by the walkout.
The valedictory address was amazing. What kind of bravery must it take for a 22-year-old to stand on the same stage with the man who may well be President one day and say, “Our generation must stand against the scapegoating of Muslims. Our concern for freedom of religion must mean freedom for all religions, not just our own, otherwise none of us is free. . . . If we are going to build walls between American students and international students, then I am skewered on the fence . . . Our mission calls us to act on behalf of justice. It is precisely in response to the suffering of Syrian refugees, fleeing war, that the arms of Jesus outstretched on God Quad call for a courageous response.”
And then there were the words of Laetare medal winner Father Greg Boyle (who is a Jesuit so I already had a soft spot in my heart for him): “You go from here to dismantle the barriers that exclude. And there’s only one way to do that: and that is to go where the joy is, which is at the margins, for if you stand at the margins, that’s the only way they’ll get erased, and you stand with the poor, and the powerless and the voiceless. You stand with those whose dignity has been denied, and you stand with those whose burdens are more than they can bear, and you will go from here and have this exquisite privilege once in a while to be able to stand with the easily despised and the readily left out, with the demonized so that the demonizing will stop, and with the disposable, so the day will come when we stop throwing people away.”
We all felt blessed to have had the opportunity to hear such wisdom, and that’s what I am still thinking about days later.
One unfortunate consequence of the rain delay is that there was no time for lunch before the next and thankfully last event: the Mendoza College of Business Diploma Ceremony, otherwise known as the ceremony that wouldn’t end.
Y’all, this is the one where they call out the names. I don’t know how many names there were but it was a lot. We were there for an hour waiting for it to begin on extremely uncomfortable bleachers, and then I think it was at least 2.5 hours before Teddy’s name was called and there were about an hour’s worth left to go.
I felt rude but I couldn’t stand it. I took Lorelei and William out and went to the student center and got them snacks and drinks. Then I went back inside to watch Teddy walk out and then thank God in Heaven it was over and time to take pictures!
Teddy (and I) would have appreciated a more scenic background but we were pressed for time and there were members of our party for whom walking long distances is an issue. Jake was like, “Here’s a nice tree. Stand in front of it,” and we got the whole thing done in maybe five minutes.
And now, AT LAST, it was dinner time!
Y’all have heard of Studebakers, right? My Uncle Charlie had one MANY years ago, as I recall. Well, they were once manufactured in South Bend, and the guy who founded the company lived in this 40 room mansion.
Only now it’s a restaurant–Tippecanoe Place–and I hope y’all will indulge me because I just couldn’t stop taking pictures:
I didn’t get any interior pictures except for the group shot below because it just seemed kind of awkward but it was as beautiful as you might imagine–grand staircases, marble fireplaces, fancy woodwork everywhere. And the food largely lived up to the surroundings, as did the service. It was the perfect special spot to end our celebration.
Teddy (who I should tell you goes by Theo everywhere other than with family and old friends) graduated summa cum laude. He received the Raymond P. Kent award for outstanding work in Finance courses. He’s had a job lined up for months and will be heading to San Francisco in July to start work as an investment banking analyst. As this chapter closes, a new adventure is just beginning for him.