Mistaken for Gary

As I’m leaving church this morning with Little One in tow, a woman accosts me from out of nowhere in the middle of the parking lot. She’s probably around 50, short gray hair, dressed in that weekend / business casual dress that the preponderance of Catholics wear to worship their Creator.

“Excuse me,” she says before I can react, “but you look exactly like my brother!”

What do you say to this?

An awkward smile and, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a sister.”

She doesn’t seem to buy it, strangely enough. “His name is Gary. He lives just outside of El Paso.” She scrutinizes me a bit, as if waiting for a response.

Honestly, I don’t know what to say.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

I tell her.

“Well, okay, nice meeting you. I have to get her – ” I point to my daughter – “over to CCD,” and I nod in the direction of the church school.

And I high-tail it out of there.

What disturbed me most about this little 30-second interaction was that I could not remove my eyes from her chest.

No, it has nothing to do with the first thought that came into your mind.

She was proudly wearing one of those big obnoxious “Yes We Did!” buttons she must have recycled from the 2008 election.

To this day it amazes me, utterly, completely, astonishes me, how anyone professing to be a Catholic could vote for Obama. Had this woman never heard of the HHS mandate that forces religious institutions to provide medical coverage for abortion to their employees? Was she completely ignorant on his pro-abortion stance, such his voting against giving newborns basic Constitutional rights as an Illinois senator? Did she never hear of his “evolving” views on that oxymoron known as homosexual “marriage’?

Truth is, I just had to get out of her presence.

And that’s not something I’m proud of, coming right out of mass.