That’s the title of this fine piece by Pat Gohn that looks at how she came to appreciate the rosary — and the woman behind it: My white-haired grandmother, Henrietta, owned a beautiful rosary with tiny delicate pearlescent beads. She kept it on her bedroom bureau in a small metal. Whenever I’d visit her apartment, I’d wander in and play with those beads. I had no real concept about prayer or its value at the time. But I dearly remember... Read more