Fiction | February 07, 2017

“Pilarski, Pietrzyk, Szymanski . . .” The names roll on. These third graders about to receive their First Communion, where will they be twenty years from now? The boys will be good honest factory workers for the most part, and the girls will be mothers of children, St. Conrad’s parish of the next generation. Of course there will be priests and nuns among them, but the monsignor hopes that some will be doctors, too, and lawyers—could one even be a mayor of the city of Detroit? Nineteen sixty-seven: the date has a futuristic sound; he himself will be close to retirement then.

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