Author: Dorothy McLean
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The Cobbler’s Daughter
While I was in Lourdes, I read something very funny online by some folks who confuse transitory pastoral advice with immutable doctrine and are opposed to social dancing. Their post beautifully illustrates the necessity of examining social and historical contexts before citing religious authorities. In this case, not only did one authority (an early Archbishop…
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Lourdes & Macarena
Mr McLean and I returned from Lourdes yesterday, tired from the journey but grateful for the graces received. Some of these—like the heart-stopping beauty of the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Lourdes set against the green foothills of the Pyrenees—were apparent. Others have not yet unfolded. We watch and pray. We were the guests of…
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Mrs McLean is Called a Name
As an oldster, I am supremely fortunate in the youngsters who form part of my social set. They are kind, intelligent, affable, modest, devout, polite, well-dressed and generally calm. A few of the youngest are greatly addicted to cookies, of course, but as they age they learn to hide their inordinate desire for sugar and…
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Or am I Herräng?
Herräng Dance Camp is legendary among swing-dancers. It takes place in a small village in Sweden every summer. Sometimes when I forget I am not in my twenties, I think about how cool it would be to go there and immerse myself in lessons for the low, low price of 6,500 Swedish krona. How this…
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The Jesuits’ Ceilidh
“I hate being a wallflower, so I’ll only put up with it for an hour,” I told Mr McLean before departing for the ceilidh at the Jesuits’ hall on Lauriston Place. I was too pessimistic, however. Soon after I arrived, I saw six young Catholic men of our acquaintance. And, to my surprise, another young…
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The Third Annual Eastertide Dance
The phone call came when I was punching holes in dance cards. “There is heavy traffic, and we’re going to be late,” said Krzysztof. I relaxed for the first time all day. Everything for the dance was washed or baked or bought, bagged and packed. I was coiffured, dressed and painted. All that was left…
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Culture and costume
Lent being over, I went to a Lindy Hop social this week. There I joined a friend, saw many regulars and met a young lady visiting from Switzerland. She had come to Edinburgh with some friends, but they had gone home and, having a night to herself she decided to go to the local swing-dance…
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The Lion on Dancing
We had a wonderful time at the Third Annual Eastertide Dance in Edinburgh last night. As always we began with the Prayer to Saint Michael and ended by singing Regina Caeli. There were eight ceilidh dances interspersed with six waltzes, and there was an opportunity for swing-dancing during the intermission. The Wisps o’ the Tay…
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A Village Dance
“I don’t have a problem with Catholic Match being an option,” said a fellow Easter Sunday lunch guest. “I have a problem with Catholic Match being the ONLY option.” I agreed with this enthusiastically, for I am utterly opposed to the tyranny of social media in social life. It bothers me that young women seem…
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Whatever happened to Britain?
“Sin has its own built-in punishment,” said Sister Mary Wilfreda O’Flaherty, IBVM, 40 years ago, and sad experience shows me that this is absolutely true. Tragically, it isn’t true just on a personal level but on a societal level, too. Today X is full of video and outrage over rampaging youthful mobs in London, and…