The Poke is Back
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Sure enough. Big Bird was AWOL and in his place was the papal motorcade in downtown Chicago. The car band.
My challenge: To explain to an unchurched almost-3-year-old who was so important that he could require a car band, and usurp everyone's favorite feathered friend. I tried:
"Well, there's this man who has come to this country from far, far away. And he is a very, very important man. A powerful and important man." At that point, a picture of His Holiness, looking quite a bit like a Storm Trooper in his white robes and amazing headress came across the screen. I'm a gal who, you'll remember, grew up Near Philadelphia, and am quite familiar with men in outrageous outfits and funny hats -- we have the Mummers Parade each New Year's Day. But Tom had only one reference point, and this would become obvious in a minute or two. "He is why Sesame Street isn't on."
Blank stare in return. So I tried again.
"He's called the Pope."
"The Poke?" Close enough.
"A very important man."
"Like Darth Vader?" Tom inquired.
"Yes," I told him. "But a good Darth Vader." And at this point, the man in white was surrounded by a flotilla of black-garbed priests, and Tom knew he was right.
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