Maddie: Rest in Peace

Wednesday morning, Diane and I lost our dear Maddie, an absolutely wonderful 15-year-old Bichon Frise. Maddie was born on January 21, 2008 and died on June 7. Diane and I adopted Maddie on March 29, 2014 from the “Brat Pack,” an aptly named Bichon rescue group out of Mt Dora, Florida. Maddie, then, was a part of our family for almost ten years. It really seems as if she had been with us far longer, simply because she joined us so willingly and immediately endeared herself to us. Here’s a photo I took of Maddie on the day she joined our family.

In a conversation with a friend the other day, she suggested that for those our age our relationship with the family dog is more evident, much deeper, perhaps more important. When we're raising children, the family dog is a little less present to the parents than to the children since work, child-rearing, homemaking and all the rest take up so much of our time. We actually spend fewer hours alone with our dogs and when they leave us, we certainly miss them, but our grief is tempered by a home still full of life. But in retirement, the children are grown, raising families of their own, and a dog becomes a far more meaningful member of this smaller, aging family. Diane and I shared in Maddie’s care, and her presence was almost constant, just as Maddie shared her attention with both Diane and me. I suppose from Maddie’s perspective, we became the “pack.” Yes, we were a small pack, just the three of us, but the presence of each was important to the others. It’s remarkable how quickly this little dog became a true part of our family.

Maddie & Hang-out the Window Goggles

This was evident in Maddie’s behavior. When I moved from room to room doing little tasks, she would follow me. If I went into my office to work, she’d join me and plop down and curl up on the little dog bed near my desk. She’d act much the same way with Diane. Maddie especially disliked it when Diane and I happened to be in separate rooms with the door closed between us. This she could not accept. She wanted the pack, the family, together, or at least accessible. Maddie actually taught us quite a bit about relationships, and even about discipleship. Over the years I’ve written a few blog posts about this. Here are links to a couple of them:

• In December 2017: Doggone Discipleship.

• In August 2018: Maddie, My Teacher

The Threesome at the Grand Canyon

Within weeks of Maddie’s arrival we took her with us on a long road trip to California. It was then we discovered that Maddie, unlike all our previous dogs, didn’t especially enjoy riding in the car. Why? I haven’t a clue, but she came to us as a six-year-old with a collection of interesting, but minor, neuroses. Although she adjusted somewhat to car travel, she never fully accepted it, and much preferred to ride along in the golf cart on neighborhood trips. But as we also discovered on that long West Coast trip, she loved being with new people. Other than trying to nibble on the toes of two of our grandsons, she made friends with everyone…well, almost everyone. There was one man in the neighborhood she seemed to dislike. Whenever she saw him, she growled, a response never repeated with another. Who knows why, but I never really trusted him.

Diane and Maddie in Tombstone, AZ

Maddie readily accepted other dogs unless they were aggressive toward her. She wouldn’t put up with those snappy little ankle-biters who seem to regard other canines as potential enemies rather than friends. Usually, she would simply turn and walk away from the aggressive ones. But if another dog actually tried to attack her, Maddie would respond in a way that always sent the other dog running. She wouldn’t pursue, but would then just go about her business of OCS, that is, obsessive, compulsive sniffing. Maddie was often the dominant dog in dog-on-dog relationships.

Possessive Maddie and her Milkbone

Maddie seemed also to accept the presence of wild creatures. She would certainly notice the rabbits, squirrels, armadillos, and our little neighborhood lizards — pretty much any wild four-legged animal — but she never chased them. I think perhaps the predatory instincts had long been suppressed in her breed, or more likely it was just Maddie’s unique personality. Interestingly, the local wild critters rarely saw her as a threat. I’ve seen her stand within a foot of a pair of tall sandhill cranes. She’d just sniff away while they searched for food, each ignoring the others. The same was true when we’d occasionally happen on a flock of 20 or 30 ibis gathered in a neighbor’s front yard. Mutual tolerance was always evident. On our daily pre-dawn walk, we’d often stop by a spot where two frogs (or toads?) hung out, always sitting on the same small concrete slab. Maddie would quietly approach them, bend over, and give them a sniff. Truly amazing, but it happened day after day. If I ever came within five feet of this pair, they would instantly disappear down an access hole in the concrete. 

And here is my all-time favorite photo of the two females who joined forces to rule me for the past ten years. You can see why...

Yes, indeed, Diane and I will miss this wonderful, beautiful little gift from God. For those who love Him, God always provides the perfect gift at the perfect time. I think He did that for us when He gave us our Maddie. Living as we do in our odd version of retirement, aging and in imperfect health of mind and body, we became closer to each other thanks to Maddie. And surprisingly, with her physical departure, I sense that this closeness will only increase. She remains with us in spirit.

Oh, yes, one of my favorite philosopher/theologians is Peter Kreeft, a professor of philosophy at Boston College and a man who has written more books than most folks today have read. One of those books, Every Thing You Ever Wanted To Know About Heaven, is a marvelous read, and I recommend it highly. On page 45 Kreeft offers a wonderful, Scriptural explanation of why our pets will join us in heaven. Buy the book and read it.

In the meantime, Diane and I will still shed some tears and be continually surprised by Maddie's absence. We were good to her, but she was far better to us. And so, we offer her to the Lord, Who made heaven and earth and all creatures great and small. 

 

Blessings and God's Peace...

Flannery O’Connor: Rare Recordings

I came to appreciate the work of Flannery O’Connor over time. In 1962, during my freshman year at Georgetown, I read one of her stories for the first time. A friend handed me a book containing several of her short stories and suggested I read at least one of them. I chose “A Good Man Is Hard to Find” because of its rather pleasant title. Was I surprised! I simply didn’t know what to make of this strange story of the mass murder of what I considered very stupid people by very evil people. It was certainly the most shocking short story I had ever come across. I’ll admit I didn’t fully grasp its meaning or appreciate its characters, probably because it was all so far beyond my own limited experience. In truth, I really didn’t even know how to understand the story, and so I just returned the book to my friend without much comment. I was probably too young, too naive, and simply too stupid to grasp what Flannery O’Connor was trying to tell me. Only years later did I begin to read her works a bit more seriously. And this was thanks to Dear Diane, my wife of 54 years. Diane, the English major, had been a longtime fan of O’Connor‘s work and encouraged me to read this great Southern writer. And a Southerner she certainly was. She was also Catholic, a devout Catholic, at that time not particularly common in rural Georgia. 

I won’t review her life and work here. That’s not my purpose. Flannery O’Connor died in 1964 at the young age of 39 after battling lupus her entire adult life. Perhaps not surprisingly, there are few recordings of her voice, but those we have are absolutely priceless. Whenever I hear her voice, I’m reminded of some of Diane’s Georgia relatives, especially those who were older and are no longer with us. They all had such delightful Southern accents. Anyway, I find it a joy to listen to O'Connor.

I’ve provided links to two audio recordings, both available on YouTube. In the first O’Connor reads that remarkable story I first read so many years ago:

“A Good Man Is Hard to Find”

And here’s a recording of her reading one of her essays:

“Some Aspects of the Grotesque in Southern Fiction”

I hope you enjoy them. And if you have never read Flannery O’Connor’s work, perhaps hearing her voice will encourage you to do so.

Sick and Tired

I’ve been sick, with something that’s made me very tired. I’m really not sure what hammered me about a week ago, but it sure made an impression. It feels like the flu but I won’t hazard a diagnosis except to say that I’ve been out of commission ever since it appeared. The symptoms were pretty standard: aches and pains, upper respiratory congestion and cough, chills, weakness, loss of appetite, and all the rest. To my knowledge I never had a fever, so I guess that’s a good thing. But the best thing has been the loving care provided by Diane who kept me hydrated, medicated, fed, warm and cozy, and let me get the rest I needed. She has been wonderful indeed. Anyway, thanks to Diane, I’m now on the mend, and should be back to normal within a day or two. In the meantime I’ll continue to remain cloistered here at home and just goof off until I feel well enough to rejoin polite society. 

Sadly, today I’ll have to miss the Parish Staff Christmas Luncheon, always an enjoyable event, except perhaps for the irritating Yankee Swap gift exchange. Okay, okay…a lot of folks apparently enjoy it, but it just seems to turn gift-giving into an unnecessarily complicated process that ensures the right gifts too often get to the wrong people. Just seems to me a “secret Santa” approach would be a lot simpler, leave everyone happier, and be more attuned to Christian values. But what do I know? Obviously, not much, because I think I’m alone in my, until now, unvoiced criticism. I’d already bought a gift for the luncheon, one that met the $25 limit. I think I’ll ask Diane to give it to some deserving soul whom she believes will enjoy it,

Diane’s undergoing another of her frequent physical therapy sessions, so while she’s out I’ll ask a compliant Alexa to play a little Vivaldi or Bach while I take a brief restorative nap right here in my easy chair. But first I must extricate my right foot from under Maddie who decided to settle down on top of it. This is something new with Maddie who’s normally not much of a cuddler. Perhaps it’s a symptom of her advancing age — Maddie turns 15 this month — and reflects a long-repressed desire to establish a closer relationship with the pack. Then again, maybe she just decided my slippered foot was a handy pillow. 

In the meantime, get your heart and soul ready for Jesus. He arrives soon. 

Happy Birthdays

Last evening we celebrated two birthdays. Yesterday was our friend Andy Truax’s birthday and today is Diane’s birthday. Andy is married to Jamie, who’s been Diane’s close friend since they first became best pals in grade school in Pensacola. A few years ago she and Andy moved to Central Florida and now live nearby, so Diane and Jamie get together frequently, usually to shop. 

And so, the four of us decided to celebrate over dinner at Coastal Del Mar, a fairly new seafood restaurant here in The Villages. We had a delightful time and enjoyed the food and the stories. The restaurant even surprised us with free birthday desserts, a wonderful key lime pie. A good time was had by all.

Here’s a photo of Jamie and Andy from last night…cute couple.

And here’s a photo of an even cuter couple…yep, that’s us.

When I first met Diane, as I was making my way through flight training in Pensacola, she was entering her senior year at Florida State and was a few months shy of her 21st birthday. That was a while ago, but I’d better be discreet and not mention the year. I will say, however, that Diane seemed to enjoy the fact that Andy is exactly one day older than she.

Lunch at Micanopy

Some of you, at least those who know us well, realize that Diane took a fall about two weeks ago. While trying to break her fall she put her left hand down and instead broke her wrist. Fortunately, she has a wonderful orthopedic surgeon who specializes in hand/wrist injuries and did a wonderful job. Diane is now undergoing post-op therapy and coming along well. Poor Diane has had her share of pain and injury in recent years. Her right shoulder, after two reverse shoulder replacement surgeries, is still only partially useful; and yet she manages to get along almost as well as her far older husband. 

Today we drove 90 minutes north to the Dental Department of the University of Florida in Gainesville, so Diane could undergo another phase of her complex and seemingly endless dental work. While they work on her for three or four hours, I sit in a comfortless chair in the waiting room, which is really a narrow hallway, and try to do some work on my iPad as masked dentists, nurses, technicians, office workers, and patients scramble by and try to avoid kicking my feet. The only redeeming value of these too frequent visits to UF relates to my long walks to the coffee shop at the other end of the building. There I buy coffee and a tasteless but supposedly nutritious muffin from pretty, young coeds (do they still call college girls coeds?), all for an unreasonable price. 

For Sale in Micanopy

Anyway, on the way home, we stopped by the little town of Micanopy, Florida. Micanopy is one of my favorite Central Florida towns, a place with a collection of cafes, gift shops, galleries, and other small businesses that sell the kind of unique objects we find interesting. The little town exudes that “old Florida” ambiance that can still be found if you wander off the beaten track. We ate a nice inexpensive lunch at one of those little cafes and enjoyed sitting out on the covered front porch. Diane decided on the chicken and dumplings — good but not as good as her grandmother’s — while I wolfed down two excellent hot dogs. What was especially surprising was the cost of a can of Diet Coke and an ice cream cone: each cost only $1.00. Out on that porch we were also serenaded by a trio of folk-singing musicians who played their instruments well, sang well, and triggered our musical memories with folk songs from 60s and earlier. Of course, that was expected since all three looked to be about our age. I took the below photo of Diane as we sat awaiting our lunch. I guess she decided to read her book because of the quality of the conversation.

We had a good time.

Bible Study Redux

Alleluia! 

After 16 months of, well, nothing much, our parish's Bible Study sessions will recommence on Monday, July 26. Back in March of last year, as COVID began to infect the world, we had to stop meeting together. At that time we had approximately 100 parishioners coming together weekly to strengthen and enliven their faith by studying and coming to a greater understanding of Sacred Scripture. Because the numbers of participating faithful had grown so much since I started our little study group 15 years earlier, we had to schedule three weekly sessions. We will follow this same plan as we restart the program: three sessions, on Monday morning, Monday afternoon, and Wednesday Morning.

Before the pesky virus tore people apart from one another, these sessions had become my three favorite hours of the week. Those who participate are wonderful, enthusiastic, faithful people who willingly share their faith and their experiences to help the rest of us understand the depth and breadth of God's Word. I've studied Sacred Scripture, formally and informally, for many years and thought I was pretty knowledgeable, but believe me, I came away from these weekly sessions with new insights and, more importantly, a deeper awareness of how God's Word enters directly into the lives and loves of His people. It was similar to what I experienced when, almost 54 years ago, I met this strikingly beautiful young woman named Diane, who over time deepened my love for Sacred Scripture. She was a former Baptist and Pentecostal who loved the Lord and knew her Bible. She kept me grounded in the Truth and has been an effective footbrake to keep from doing stupid things. 

If you managed to survive the COVID experience, you'll understand how a person needed to stay busy. As Diane once remarked, "You can watch only so many Hallmark movies," and watching the news...well, that was anything but cheerful. I did, however, listen to a lot of music -- mostly Baroque, thanks to Alexa and my SiriiusXM account. 

But that wasn't enough. Throughout the COVID weirdness, in an effort to keep my aging brain active and encourage our participants and other parishioners to turn daily to Sacred Scripture, I decided to write a series of weekly (more or less) Scripture-based reflections. The topics I chose were of an eclectic sort -- everything from Trees to Mercy to Prophecy -- but all tended to turn to the Bible for support. You can access all 30 of these reflections on the documents page of my parish Bible Study site. Here's the link; just look for the section entitled, COVID-19 Reflections:

    www.catholic-scripture.com/documents 

The parish then asked me to make video recordings of these reflections and these, too, are available online. Although not all of the reflections were actually recorded, those that were may be found on Rumble.com here: 

    Deacon Dana Bible Study Reflections (rumble.com)

From the start of our Bible Study years ago, I would write what I called "Study Guides," really rather lame overviews of specific books of Sacred Scripture. I didn't plan to refer to these guides during our sessions; rather they were intended to provide our participants with a little background on each book so it would make a bit more sense when they read it for the first time. As it turns out, during our year off, I revised several of these guides and wrote almost ten new ones. As I said earlier, I was more than a little bored. All the new and revised guides can also be found on the documents page of my Bible Study website (see the above link).

And so, with COVID behind us -- we hope! -- and a bright, God-in-charge future ahead of us, we can come together in faith and hope as we turn once again to His holy Word. How wonderful it will be to come to a deeper understanding of God's gift of the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

One for Diane

In my last post I touched on a few poems I’ve long enjoyed and added a few words about how poetry has influenced me. Although I appreciate good poetry I am by no means a poet. On occasion, though, I pen a few verses, usually for a friend or to mark some family occasion. Most are attempts at versified humor and, although they might generate a few laughs, they're really pretty pathetic,. But every so often the muse strikes and asks me to get slightly serious and address something more meaningful. The quality is no better but they come from the heart.

Abut 10 days ago, while Diane and I were preparing lunch together, she suddenly collapsed and fell to the hard ceramic tile floor in the kitchen. She was unconscious for several minutes and the fall cut the back of her pretty head badly, ultimately requiring seven staples. A quick 911 call and the EMTs were with us. They took Diane to a local hospital, where they treated her head wound and gave her a CAT Scan. Because of possible neurological concerns, she was quickly transferred to Shands Hospital at the University of Florida in Gainesville, certainly among the best hospitals in Florida. When they moved her to the ICU, I was more than a little concerned. 

 

Although together now for 52 years, it’s too easy to forget there are fewer years ahead of us and we should cherish every moment. Not happy to be separated from her — COVID protocols limited the time I could spend with her — I took just a few minutes to write these lines of verse for Dear Diane while I waited for the gatekeepers to let me into the ICU. As I’ve already said, it ain’t great, but it came from within.

     To Be With Thee

How bleak a day can be

When I am not with Thee.

Though I set aside my fears, 

The hours yet pass like years. 

We’ve been as one so long

To be apart seems wrong.

So many times before,

Through each I’ve loved you more. 

In whom can I confide?

For Thou hast been my guide.

I need Thee here with me 

So I complete can be. 

I know there’ll be a day

When God calls one away.

But love alone empowers

And binds two hearts like ours.

We shall forever be

In love, yes, Thee and me.

__________________

To Diane, November 6, 2020

Fortunately, after four days at Shands, and every test the neurosurgeons could think of, she was released, presumably in good health. She's doing wonderfully and looks forward to having the staples removed this afternoon. Thanks to all for your prayers. God is so very good! Everything is a gift.

An Anniversary and Memories

I tend to view my life as a long succession of specific events, and I suppose that's normal. I suspect most of us measure the passage of our lives by the unique, special days that occasionally occur. For example, I can actually recall much that happened on the day I graduated from Archbishop Stepinac High School in White Plains, NY back in June 1962. But I have absolutely no recollection of anything that took place on the days immediately preceding or following it. Certain events in life just don't seem to achieve the level of importance demanded by our faulty memories. 

There are, of course, exceptions. Some years ago, during my days as a Navy pilot, I had a friend, now deceased, who spent many years as a prisoner of war in North Vietnam. The communists treated him abominably, tortured him frequently, and forced him to spend most of that time in solitary confinement. He told me that he had never thought of his memory as anything but average. In fact, he said in college he had struggled with foreign languages and organic chemistry because both demanded so much of his memory. But then he was thrown into solitary confinement in Hanoi. He was not yet 30 years old, and in an attempt to maintain his sanity, he began to review his life, working backward in time, trying to remember everything he could. He was surprised by how much he was able to retrieve, and came to believe that every detail of his life was stored away in brain cells. He just had to learn how to access it all. He got to the point where he could remember the names and faces of every child in his first grade class. (I can remember only one: Bonnie Trompeter, a beautiful little girl who I later learned went on to become a supermodel. That tells you more about me than about Bonnie or my memory.)

As for my life, the key events begin with a day I cannot remember: my Baptism in 1944, at the age of 11 days. I do, however, remember my first communion and confirmation -- first communion because it was in Bridgeport, Connecticut where we lived while our Larchmont, NY house was leased to another family (We had just returned from Germany); and confirmation at age 10 because I was enamored of a cute, little red-haired girl named Sherry. (There seems to be a pattern here.) 

Yes, I was a fairly normal kid, if a bit skinny, with many extraordinary talents, as depicted in the following photos;

Little League Athlete 

Concert Pianist

Future Aviator - Model Airplane

Of course I have many other memories -- the years our family spent in Panama City Beach, Florida and Heidelberg, Germany back in the early 1950s. High school is a bit of a blur, but in the midst (or mist) of it all I can actually recall dozens of events, many good, some not so good. I won't bore you with details of my year at Georgetown's School of Foreign Service or my four years at the U.S. Naval Academy. In general those were five good years during which I made many lifelong friends and even learned a few useful things.

On September 16, 1967 I met Dear Diane on a blind date, an event that changed my life for the good. This was followed by two other events that occurred only two weeks apart. Diane and I were married in Pensacola, Florida on November 2, 1968 and I received my Navy pilot's Wings of Gold on November 15. The former was far more important, but the latter wasn't too shabby.

Just Married - 2 November 1968

This leads me to the anniversary I celebrate today. 50 years ago, on April 17, 1970, I was the co-pilot of the recovery helicopter that picked up the Apollo 13 astronauts when they returned from their ill-fated mission to the moon. Chuck Smiley, our squadron's commanding officer was the pilot, and as his co-pilot I got to tag along. When I wasn't taking pictures with my old Leica iiiF, he actually let me take the controls for a while. Chuck, who died just a few years ago, was one of those remarkable people who shape the lives of others. He certainly shaped mine. Chuck was my hero, a very special man who taught me more than even I will ever know.

Recovery Helicopter Crew - Apollo 13

Over the years I've been asked many times to speak about the Apollo 13 recovery. Eventually I put together a slide show, and then a PowerPoint presentation, to tell the key parts of the story. Here's a link to the presentation, should you want to relive that now-ancient history.

Apollo 13 Recovery Presentation

I suppose I'll continue to remember that day in 1970, perhaps even little shreds of it when I'm locked away in one of Florida's many memory care facilities. My hope, of course, is that my body does not outlive my memory.

Interesting Stuff That Caught My Eye

Every so often, and it's usually in waiting rooms -- at the doctor, or dentist, or auto repair shop or, like today, when I took Dear Diane to get her hair cut -- I browse around the web on my iPad and uncover interesting stuff that I otherwise would not have known. 

(By the way, before I go on, please add Diane to your prayers. While walking Maddie, the wonderdog, the other evening, Diane fell and broke her arm. She's experiencing a lot of pain and will probably face a long recovery. But with me as the primary caregiver, she'll be well taken care of. I've already learned how to roll her hair on curlers, and have manufactured and rigged a washable sling she can wear in the shower. I'm using the washer and dryer daily, making meals fit to be consumed by undemanding humans, and scanning the ads for deals at the supermarket. Old dogs can learn...)

Anyway, here are just a few of the interesting items I came across during recent waiting room visits:

Dawn Eden Goldstein

Rock historian and critic, Dawn Eden Goldstein, who converted to Evangelical Christianity and later made her way to Catholicism in 2006, thanks partly to her discovery of the works of the great G. K. Chesterton, has written a memoir, Sunday Will Never be the Same: A Rock and Roll Journalist Opens Her Ears to God. It's a book I must read and one I thought some of my tight little band of blog followers might enjoy as well. Here's a link to a story about Ms. Goldstein and her latest book: From Rock Concerts to Catholic Cathedrals.

Theodore Dalrymple, who can always be counted on to address interesting, and sometimes offbeat, topics, penned a column on rights, in this instance, the right to tattoo oneself. To be brutally honest, and here I think I agree with Dalrymple, tattoos are nothing less than "self-mutilation." But if folks want to disguise parts of their bodies using tattoos, I'll say nothing. Just don't expect me to appreciate the artistry. When I was a kid, tattoos were rare and pretty much restricted to sailors, marines, and macho guys like longshoreman. Their application was usually accompanied by a substantial intake of amber liquids. But things have changed. 

Oorah!

A few years ago, while Diane and I were on a Caribbean cruise, I found a comfy seat by the ship's pool and sat back in the sunshine to read one of the books I had taken with me. But the book was boring, so I began to watch the people. I was shocked by how many people -- young, old, male, female -- sported tattoos, and some in the most amazing places. Indeed, whenever I see an otherwise pretty girl who has defaced her body with one or more tattoos, I ask myself, "Why?" Why did she do that to the beautiful body God gave her? Did she think that she (or the tattoo artist) could improve on God's gift? Heavens, girl, if you want to show the world what's important to you this week, get a charm bracelet. Anyway, you can read Dalrymple's column here: Right to Bare Arms.

Beto Making a Point

Our expansive collection of Democrat candidates for president all seem to think little of religious freedom. Beto O'Rourke, he of the now defunct presidential campaign, not long before he began to scour the fast-food want ads, told the world that as president he would deny tax-exempt status to any churches that opposed so-called same-sex marriage. Although a few of the other candidates said they wouldn't go that far, they believed religious organizations that provide public services should not be free to exercise their religious beliefs. You see, this collection of leftists consider the rights specified in the first amendment of the Constitution to be subservient to rights that can be found nowhere in our nation's founding document. Read this article by Lauretta Brown in the National Catholic Register: 2020 Democratic Front-Runners Downplay Religious Freedom.

Holy Eucharist and Joe

Unless you pay no attention to the national news, you must have heard about Joe Biden being refused the Holy Eucharist by Fr. Robert Morey, the pastor of a South Carolina church. The reasons for denying the Eucharist to Mr. Biden all relate to his public acceptance of evils that are and always have been condemned by the Church, specifically, abortion and same-sex "marriage." Three cheers for Fr. Morey. The secular media, of course, was apoplectic about this insult to the former vice president, but it's about time a pastor demonstrate the wisdom and courage to remind Catholic politicians that Church teaching can't be set aside for votes. In the same way, it would be refreshing to see priests and bishops place God's law above their fear of media backlash. Let's hope Fr. Morey inspires others to be as courageous. You can read an informative article by Kristan Hawkins in the National Catholic Register: On Joe Biden and Walking the Christian Walk. I read another article on the same subject in the Catholic Herald: Ignoring Church 

Law on Communion is Sheer Cruelty.

That's enough for now...time for dinner. God's peace.

Anniversary #50

November 2, 1968

A few days ago, on Friday, November 2nd (All Souls Day), Dear Diane and I celebrated the 50th anniversary of our wedding. It's hard to believe that 50 years have passed since that day in Pensacola, Florida and we're both wondering how quickly those years have slipped by. But they certainly have and here we are ready to begin our next 50, or some fraction thereof.

Because we are hosting our good friends, Nancy and Joe Hathaway, who are each coping with serious health issues, we've been occupied with far more important things than anniversary celebrations. 

Happy Day for Both of US

We had expected to take Nancy to Moffitt Cancer Center in Tampa on the morning of November 2nd, but another dear friend, Pat Eggert, came to our rescue and did the driving for us. Pat's husband, Larry, is a fellow alumnus of the U. S. Naval Academy (class of 1965) and both he and Pat are regulars at my Bible Study sessions in the parish. Yes, indeed, we are blessed to have such wonderful and caring friends.

1972 in Monterey after 4 years

1974 - Annapolis - After 6 years

1979 - Montecello - Diane +4 after 11 years

As it turned out, at the last minute we were actually able to  do a little (very little) celebrating, so we went out to dinner and enjoyed some excellent seafood that Friday evening. Of course, because our lives have lately been less than exciting, I expected something weird would happen...and it did. Just as our meal arrived, my cellphone, along with the phones of all the other diners, began blaring emergency signals. 

2000 - Florence, Italy after 32 years

In 2003 after 35 years

Surprise, surprise! It was a tornado warning! Almost simultaneously with the warnings the sky darkened and we were greeted by a downpour and high winds. The rain was horizontal. Very exciting. So we said a quick prayer, thanking God for our years together and for the dinner before us.

2008 After 40 years

We informed our waiter, a very nice man named Carlos, of the warning and he simply said, "It's good you're not sitting near a window." I agreed and added that rather than taking shelter, we intended to enjoy our meal while it was still hot. This turned out to be an excellent choice, for the meal was delicious and the warning was withdrawn after about 15 minutes.

2012 - On a cruise after 44 years

So...our day was fine and was enhanced by a good meal and even better friendships.

Thank you, Diane, for putting up with me all these years. I have been truly blessed.

Happy Birthday to Me

Early this morning, after thanking God for another day, Maddie and I both wolfed down our usual breakfasts: hers consisting of kibble and a few small pieces of cooked chicken breast; mine a bowlful of Cheerios and strawberries, accompanied by lots of coffee.

After breakfast I kissed Diane goodbye and joined Maddie on her morning walk. When we returned I gave Maddie a treat (see photo); afterwards she sat beside me in my chair while Diane and I watched the local and national news. Saddened by the strange stories the networks choose to air as the most important, I turned off the TV, glanced briefly through the morning newspaper, and then read one of Saki's short stories.

This is not my typical morning routine, but today, thanks to Irma, our parish church has no electrical power. Life, then,  has become much slower. It's also my birthday, so I have an additional excuse to take it easy.

At a little after 10 a.m. I filled my coffee cup once again, entered my little den, and turned on the laptop to check my email. It boots up directly to the Google search page, and what do I see? Google wishing me a Happy Birthday with this animated GIF file.

Now, I can't speak for everyone, but I find it more than a little disconcerting that Google apparently knows so much about me. And they're not alone. On my birthday I usually receive cards and phone calls from family and some close friends. These are always welcome, but I also receive quite a few birthday greetings from those I don't know. The dealership from whom I bought my last car sent a card. So did one of the banks that keeps track of my limited funds. I even received a card from a local funeral home, an organization that would probably prefer that I not celebrate another birthday. And this doesn't include all the online email cards from other companies and organizations who believe that a birthday card will make me love and patronize them. In truth, I'd be far happier if their goods and services just cost less.

I find it all a bit weird, and can see why some folks go, as they say, "off-grid." It seems that many of our largest tech firms are driven by a compulsion to enter into every aspect of our lives. Am I a wee bit paranoid if I suggest that their ultimate goal is control, that they consider our lives open to manipulation? And this just because Google wishes me a Happy Birthday? Maybe. But one thing is certain, these companies have extraordinary power over the minds and hearts of those who rely on them completely for information and news about our world. Mildly scary stuff.

But for now I intend to forget about all the world's weirdness and just enjoy the day. Diane and I are going to celebrate my 73rd at a local restaurant here in The Villages. Some friends are joining us and because the restaurant has outdoor "dog-friendly" seating, Maddie gets to take part in the festivities. Woof, woof.

Back to Normal...Not!

The past few days have been a sort of revelation for me. For once I wasn't running around doing all those things I normally do, because there was no place to do them. Our parish offices were closed, and all parish activities came to a halt as we prepared for, lived through, and cleaned up after Hurricane Irma.

All the meetings I usually attend have been cancelled. Hardly anyone called me about parish or related issues. And the only non-spam emails I received were from family and friends concerned about our well-being. I'll assist at Mass tomorrow morning, but our usual Wednesday Bible Study sessions have both been cancelled, as has our monthly clergy meeting. [Late note: The church is still without power and will, therefore, be closed all day Wednesday.]

Diane and I had also planned to take a day off from our normal Thursday soup kitchen work. A few weeks ago Diane asked her assistant cook to run the show one Thursday each month, thus giving the two of us and our aging bodies an occasional needed rest. This means I won't even have soup kitchen to wear me out this week. I try to keep Friday unencumbered and often use the day to catch up on the work I ignored during the week, Now I'll be idle that day as well.

A few friends have already remarked that it's been quite some time since I posted this much on my blog. Usually I just don't have the time, or at the end of the day I'm simply too tired to sit down and post these trivial thoughts. I admit, I'm enjoying the time off, but am a bit concerned I won't want to crank up the activity level when next week rolls around. There's also the guilt factor, that I should be doing something meaningful and worthwhile. But I've suppressed that by attributing my idleness to an unplanned week-long celebration of my birthday. After all, as I told Diane this morning, "It's not every year I turn 73." And I thank God for that because 73 sounds so very old.

Our Groomer's Vehicles

But some things have returned to normal. Our dog groomer, a nice woman named Leah, arrived this afternoon and parked her pick-up and grooming trailer in front of the house. Her business, "Bark, Bath and Beyond," is wonderful because she comes to us, freeing us from having to drive Maddie to a groomer. Maddie's breed, the Bichon Frise, must be groomed because her hair never stops growing and the poor dog would eventually disappear under a blanket of white, curly hair.

Maddie, after her grooming - Looking Good!

Poor Maddie is not very fond of Leah and considers these sessions akin to torture. Our little dog doesn't even like to be brushed, so I can imagine how she resists all that Leah must do. Whenever Leah arrives at our door, and Maddie sees who has arrived, the little thing make a beeline to another part of the house.

Dear Diane Sweeping Up

As you can see by the first photo above, our palms all survived, as did our large oaks out back. Along with most of our neighbors, I spent the morning raking and bagging, so everything will look pretty and inviting once again. Even Diane, after an appointment at the hair dresser and a session with the physical therapist, helped out.

I'm starting to like this new normal. Perhaps I'll cut back, at least a little, on my work and spend more time with Diane  enjoying God's gifts. 

Prayers Answered

The lovely Diane not only came through her surgery beautifully, but also received the best news on its results...a clean bill of health. She hopes to return home tomorrow so yours truly can help her get strong enough to go on our trip to Spain next month. She has already declared, quite firmly, that she has no intention of missing the flight.

Thank you all for your prayers. God is good.

I hope to resume the blog within a day or two.

Prayers

Just a very brief post to ask all my readers and followers to keep my lovely wife, Diane, in your prayers. She underwent major surgery on Saturday and will be in the hospital for at least several more days. Knowing God's overwhelming love for her, we turn to Him in praise and in thanksgiving for the healing only He can give. And we trust you will join your prayers to ours. Because I am with her all day, every day I do not expect to be posting to the blog for a while.

Praised be Jesus Christ...now and forever.