Visiting a Power Plant, Learning From My Father
When my father told me he was taking me to see the power plant, I was very excited; and looked forward to seeing a plant that somehow produced significant amounts of electricity.
As it turned out, the "power plant" was a building near the river.
My main — and only — visual memory of the place is a large room dominated by a massive cylinder: rounded, with its axis parallel to and roughly even with the floor. I'm pretty sure it was painted a light green.
I also remember being disappointed. And trying to not show it. I don't know what my age was at the time: probably around nine or ten, fourth or fifth grade....
More at A Catholic Citizen in America.
(The old power plant is gone, and I remember only a bit of the time my father took me there. But I learned from what my father did, and what the Church says.)
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