When I was growing up, there was a woman in our parish who became a staple in our family folklore: Joan Langley (name changed). She became an icon of all things showy and sentimental. We would say, “Don’t be such a Joan Langley,” or call something cloying a “Joan Langley.” When everyone was holding hands during the Our Father at Mass, we thought of it as a Joan Langley. The “COEXIST” bumper…
