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...

Home Again

Late last week Dear Diane and I returned home from an almost month-long trip to visit children and grandchildren. The trip was precipitated by two events: one grandson's Confirmation in Massachusetts, and another's First Communion in California. Unfortunately, both events were scheduled for the same day, and the need for grand-parental attendance at each demanded some creative scheduling. We drove from Florida to Massachusetts, spent some time with one son and his family in New Bedford, then visited with one daughter and her family in Hyannis. After several days Diane flew to San Jose, California for the First Communion, while I remained on Cape Cod for the Confirmation. She then returned so we could spend a weekend with our other son and his family on Nantucket Island. Miraculously, we actually managed to spend some time with each of our children, their spouses, and our grandchildren. I suppose that makes it a successful trip.

Adding to the success was the opportunity to swap houses with another deacon and his wife. Deacon Joe, who was ordained about 30 seconds before me back on May 24, 1997, and his wife, Ann, wanted to spend a few weeks in The Villages and we wanted to do the same on Cape Cod. He and Ann have a lovely, old Cape Cod home in South Chatham, just about three miles from where Dear Diane and I lived for 25 years. It's also just a short drive to our elder daughter's home in Hyannis, which she shares with her husband and five of our grandchildren. And so the exchange was made.

I think we got the better deal. Despite the weather -- 40s, 50s, and too much rain -- every morning Maddie (our little Bichon Frise) and I would get up early and take a long walk down to the beach. I think she enjoyed the change of pace from our usual strolls around The Villages. I know I did. After our walk I'd feed the dog, then sit by the bay window, pray Morning Prayer, and sip my coffee while enjoying the songs and flights of the local bird population. What a wonderful way to begin the day.

Taking a few weeks off from a busy retirement in sunny Florida was exactly what I needed. Our temporary home turned out to be the perfect refuge from worldly cares and the pressures of multiple ministries. The only downside was Dear Diane's absence which put Maddie and me into a five-day funk. And to top it off, Dear Diane had to suffer the consequences of my cost-saving  travel arrangements which resulted in plane changes going and coming. She's a real trooper, though, and despite some tight connections, made it to San Jose and back to Providence on time, along with her baggage. I had blessed her and her luggage during check-in and had full confidence that all would go well. God is good!

One evening during her absence, and more tired than usual, I turned on the TV and stumbled onto the NFL draft. I did something I had never done before: I actually watched it. It was the first night of the draft, which included round one and part of round two. Why I watched this I cannot say. I'm not a big fan of professional sports. The huge amounts of money involved only create a breeding ground for corruption and distorted values, just one more effect of original sin. I also believe our professional athletes, like most of today's celebrities, are generally poor role models for young people. Yeah, I know...I've turned into a curmudgeon.

Anyway, watching the draft was mesmerizing. Just observing these future professional athletes -- their over-the-top clothing and jewelry, their attitudes and comments -- was both fascinating and more than a little depressing. Many of these young men, barely out of childhood, seemed completely wrapped up in themselves, convinced that they actually deserve the millions that will be thrown at them in the weeks to come. Sadly, if experience is any guide, despite the millions, many will be flat broke ten years from now.

As one young man said, "Football is my life!" I suspect he is not alone in believing this, even though many NFL draftees will never play in a regular season game. And among those who actually make the team and sign a rookie contract, most will play for only two or three years. And then what? Did they really get an education that will allow them to succeed in a world that places little value on their athletic prowess once they're off the field? They certainly possess some level of physical courage, but did they develop the moral courage needed to live good, productive lives? One can only hope they will come to an understanding of what is truly important in life, and do so sooner rather than later.

The trip up and down the East Coast also provided an opportunity to spend a few days with dear old friends in Virginia, the Lees, and in South Carolina, the Hathaways. Now that I think about it, our trip was characterized by what can only be called mooching. We exchanged houses with friends, visited other friends en route, and didn't spend a single night in a hotel. Ah well...at least all our friends know that they are welcome to do the same when they come to Florida to escape the cold and snows of winter.

We had a wonderful time, but as Dorothy said, "There's no place like home."

Western Trip, Part 3: God's Gifts

Our trip to the Far West continued as we departed Laguna Beach and made our way, very indirectly, to our destination of Danville in the Bay Area. Although we lived in California for over seven years back in the 60s and 70s, Dear Diane and I had never visited Sequoia National Park. It's one of those places we've always wanted to visit, but we just never got around to it. And so we took a bit of a detour and drove inland into the hills and checked into a nice hotel near Three Rivers, California, not far from the entrance to the national park. Since it was still early in the day, we decided to drive to the park and see the big trees that afternoon.

The drive through the park is breathtaking, and I found myself wanting to stop at every turn and just take in the beauty that surrounded us. A few photos...

The mountains were raised up in homage to the Lord

All of creation seems to point heavenward

Who shall live on your holy mountain, O Lord?

And then we meet the sequoias. Not long after entering the park, following the recommended route, one begins to encounter these huge trees. What magnificent creations! Interestingly, as we climb up the winding road to this mile-high forest, the size of the trees seems to grow proportionately until we find ourselves in the midst of some of the largest and oldest living things on earth. The largest of the sequoias is the General Sherman Tree which stands tall at 275 Feet and has a diameter in excess of 25 feet. It is also estimated to be about 2,500 years old. Such numbers boggle the mind but not as much as the reality itself. 

"General Sherman" - the largest of the large

Standing at the foot of one of these beautiful trees one learns to appreciate the greatness and variety of God's creation. They seem to be pointing to the heavens, as if to say, "We have long been witnesses to God's greatness, and we reach up to Him in thanks." One can almost hear them singing as the breeze rustles their branches:

Sing, O heavens, for the LORD has done it; shout, O depths of the earth; break forth into singing, O mountains, O forest, and every tree in it! For the LORD has redeemed Jacob, and will be glorified in Israel [Is 44:23].

Sequoias reaching up to heaven

It was a glorious day and I am so glad we were able to be there. I've included a few more photos below...

Another large sequoia

A cluster of trees

Two giants stand together

Diane and Maddie checking out the trees

The next morning we drove north through the farmland of California's Central Valley, eventually cutting over toward the San Francisco Bay Area, and arrived in Danville in the early afternoon. It had taken us eight days to make the trip from our home in central Florida, and a wonderful eight days it had been. But now we would begin the long anticipated week with our daughter, Siobhan, her husband, Jeffrey, and their two boys, our grandsons, Ezekiel and Phineas. We stayed in the lovely home of Jeffrey's mom, Puffy, who graciously put up with us (and Maddie) for our entire stay. Actually, Maddie took an instant shine to Puffy and probably would have preferred to stay with her than travel back to Florida with us.

On Saturday, May 10, we were privileged to take part in young Ezekiel's First Holy Communion, celebrated at St. Joan or Arc Parish in San Ramon, California. Fr. Ray, the pastor, kindly asked me to join him in the sanctuary as the deacon of the Mass, permitting me to offer the cup of Jesus' Precious Blood to these wonderful new communicants. What a joy! Diane took some photos.

Ezekiel with his grandfather

The first communicants with Fr. Ray and myself

Ezekiel with his parents and brother, Phineas

Later that afternoon the family and some close family friends came together for an extended celebration at Puffy's home. The weather was just about perfect so we were able to celebrate outside by the pool which certainly pleased the children. At some point during our festivities Ezekiel sat down to open his cards and gifts. "The gifts are all very nice," he said, "but I really like the cards." I doubt that any other child has ever expressed such a sentiment. Since Ezekiel's middle name is Francis, Diane and I gave him a rosary blessed by Pope Francis. He liked it so much he wore it around his neck. Photos follow.

Ezekiel with one of his new rosaries

Puffy admiring one of Ezekiel's gifts

Dear Diane keeping Maddie quiet and content

More tomorrow...God's peace.

Western Trip Part 2: Go West, Old Man

I meant to post yesterday, but my world became far too crowded with tasks and other demands to do much of anything else. By the time I had time, I was too tired to think, much less write. Of course, this morning wasn't much better. After 8 a.m. Mass I facilitated our weekly parish Bible Study, then attended a clergy meeting, followed immediately by a liturgy committee meeting, and finally got home at about 1 p.m. For some reason I just don't feel retired. But as Dear Diane is fond of saying, "For someone who loves what you do you sure do complain a lot." And in truth I do enjoy what I do, since being a deacon in our parish is a joy, especially now with our new church almost finished.
Yes, we're building a new church that will seat 1,100 people. Our current building, which began life as a small mission church, seats only about 500 people crammed together in less than moderate comfort. Since over 5,000 people now attend Saturday Vigil and Sunday Masses during our peak (winter) season here in central Florida, we must schedule between nine and eleven Masses every weekend to handle the crowds. Once we move into the new building, sometime in late July, things will improve drastically. But before then there's a lot of work to do, a lot of preparation to be made. It's all very exciting, though. God has certainly blessed our parish, this wonderful community of believers. May He continue to do so.
I'll include some photos of the new church in a future post.
_____________________

Now, back to our trip West...

After our brief stay in Tombstone, Arizona, Dear Diane, Maddie and I continued West, heading for San Diego. We made our way across the desert and then over the mountains just east of San Diego, amazed at all the wind turbines strung out across the landscape. (Warning: editorial comment follows) It will be interesting to see what happens to this government supported industry if the tax credits it has reaped for years actually expire and are not renewed by Congress. This subsidy costs you and me over $6 billion annually and really does little to encourage the development of more efficient sources of energy. Anyway, I really don't support the idea that the federal government should be picking winners and losers in any industry. After all, these are the same folks that brought us the efficiencies of the Veterans Administration. (End of comment)


It was wonderful to once again find ourselves in San Diego and we enjoyed our drive through the city as we let our GPS take us straight to our hotel, the La Quinta Inn in Old Town. (The inn allows dogs and all three of us were ready to get out of the car and relax a bit.) Once checked in and recovered, we called our dear old friends, Sally and Chuck Smiley, and firmed up our dinner plans for the evening.

CAPT C.B. Smiley, USN (Ret.)

Dear Diane and I had been married for only a few short months when we moved into our first home together in San Diego. That was in January 1969. Actually, that first home was in Chula Vista, a San Diego suburb not far from my duty station, a Navy helicopter squadron based at Naval Air Station Imperial Beach. It was there that as a young Lieutenant (j.g.) and fledgling pilot I met then-Commander C. B. Smiley, the squadron's executive officer, and later commanding officer, who for some reason known only to him, took me under his wing and taught me how to be a good naval officer and an even better human being. The student, however, never matched the high standards set by the teacher's own example. And today, when I mentally flip through the pages of my internal encyclopedia and find the entry for "A Good Man", Chuck Smiley stares back at me in my mind's eye. In the same way, his wife, Sally, became Diane's mentor and taught my 22-year-old bride how to survive and flourish as the wife of a naval officer. Sally could do no wrong and there were many conversations in our new family that began with the words, "Well, Sally says..."

Sally and Diane

Early that evening we met Sally and Chuck at their fabulous downtown condo and together made our way to a nice waterfront restaurant, the Pier Cafe, that offered pleasant outdoor seating for both humans and dogs. The seafood and service were quite good, the conversation even better, and the company the best. It was a perfect evening and the USS Midway, now a remarkable naval museum, could be seen from our table.

Chuck, by the way, was a key member of the team responsible for bringing the USS Midway to San Diego and turning it into the city's greatest tourist attraction. If you go to San Diego, be sure to spend some time aboard the Midway. You can't miss it: it's the big aircraft carrier right off Harbor Drive. Check out the website here. 

Midway from the San Diego shoreline

Here's a photo of Chuck, me, and our two crewmen, Mike Longe and Glen Slider shortly before we flew the mission to recover the Apollo 13 astronauts when they returned from their ill-fated trip to the moon and back. We were all a lot younger back in 1970.



The next morning we drove up the coast, marveling at the growth of what were once little seafront towns between San Diego and Los Angeles. After an hour or so of off-highway driving we arived at beautiful Laguna Beach and the hillside home of other dear friends, Darlene and Warren Aut. We've known them both since those early Navy days in that first squadron. Warren was Chuck Smiley's executive officer way back then and went on to achieve flag rank and become Admiral Aut. And Darlene was one of Dear Diane's very best friends; they were loyal Navy wives who supported each other and raised families on their own while their husbands were away for months at a time, flying off of ships in the Pacific Ocean.

View of the Pacific from the Auts' living room

Darlene and Warren have a new dog, an Australian Labradoodle named Sally Benjamin. A bouncy, fluffy little thing, about twice the size of our dog, she and Maddie seemed to get along well during our two-day stay. Diane and I needed the non-hotel rest. After a week of cross-country driving, their lovely home overlooking the Pacific provided the perfect therapy. Thank you, Darlene and Warren.

Sally Benjamin and Maddie enjoying each other

Darlene and Warren join us for lunch in Laguna Beach

We left our friends and made our way inland so we could visit Sequoia National Park and be humbled by its huge, ancient trees. I'll have to tell you about it tomorrow. The evening Bible Study session is fast approaching, so I must leave.

But before I leave today, let me say only that memory is a wonderful thing, one of God's splendid gifts. Through it we can relive those meaningful events of past days and revisit all the good friends who did so much to bring goodness into our lives. 

God's peace...

Back Home Again

Dear Diane and I returned home last Tuesday evening after being away for almost six weeks. If you're an occasional reader of this blog you will have noticed that I posted very little during our absence. I find it a distinct challenge to blog when I'm away from home, especially when I'm traveling almost every day. I leave home with the best of intentions, planning to post something every day or so, but then reality and exhaustion set in. Each evening I find myself returning to our hotel room with one thought in mind:
sleep.

We had a terrific time though. We spent a little more than two weeks visiting our children and grandchildren in Massachusetts -- a true joy for Diane and me. And then we flew to Dublin, Ireland, ostensibly to attend the Navy-Notre Dame football game (We won't discuss the score of that contest.), but really to enjoy a two-week visit in the land of all my ancestors.

Joined by our dear, old friends, Nancy and Dave Lee, we spent several days in Dublin, then drove west to see the sights. We stayed in castles, hotels, guest houses, and B&Bs. We sampled the seafood and the stout...and an occasional Irish whiskey. We saw crystal being made in Waterford and pewter being made in Mullingar. We marveled at the ancient sites that seem to arise out of nowhere in the most unlikely places. Ireland is a remarkably beautiful country populated by friendly, helpful people.

As usual I took well over a thousand photos with my trusty Canon Digital Rebel SLR. This afternoon I uploaded some of them to my Flickr.com account. If you're interested, you can view a slide show:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/deacondana/8020072068/in/set-72157631615981424/lightbox/

After returning to Boston we spent a few days in Newport, RI to celebrate my birthday, then drove to White Plains, NY to attend my 50th high school reunion at Archbishop Stepinac High School. Once again, the wrong team won the football game, but it mattered little. Indeed, I enjoyed the weekend so much I intend to take in the 100th reunion when the time comes.

...a busy but extremely pleasant time, and as always there's no place like home.


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On the road again...

It seems as if Diane and I just returned from our last trip (that one to the cornfields of Iowa), and now here we are again leaving the familiar comforts of home, driving north on the always exciting I-95. On the previous trip we celebrated the marriage of the son of our dear friends, Nancy and Dave Lee, but this time we will join in an even more personal celebration: the marriage of our youngest, Brendan, to his sweetie, Amari. The wedding will take place on October 1st on the island of Nantucket where they both live. Of course, we will also make the rounds and visit our other three children and eight grandchildren who, sadly for them, all live in Massachusetts.

I like to think age has had little effect on me, that I'm still as vigorous and healthy as ever, but there's nothing like a long rode trip to bring reality to the fore. It's especially evident whenever we stop for gas or a bite to eat. I swing my body out of the driver's seat and my aging back and joints rebel. I suspect it's quite a sight for onlookers. Also, in the past I often drove 700-800 miles I'm a day; now I'm lucky to log 500, which is how far we drove today.

This, I believe, is one of God's blessings. As we age and our bodies begin to deteriorate, we are reminded of our mortality, that death cannot be avoided. While pondering our faith and the brevity of our lives, we come to realize that we had better turn to our loving God -- Father, Son, and Holy Spirit -- and reorient our lives to God's will. There's nothing like advancing age to remind us of the true insignificance of our petty, worldly concerns and all the pomps and works of men, and force us to confront that which is truly important: our salvation.

Oh, yes, it's also cold here in North Carolina. Right now it's a miserably cold 59 degrees, which for us Floridians is downright wintry. We were looking forward to a nice balmy September in New England, but now I expect we'll be regretting our decisions on what clothing we packed. Ah, well, it will only make our return to Florida that much sweeter.

Keep us in your prayers as we negotiate the insanity of northeast Interstates. God's peace.



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Location:Lumberton, NC

First Communion, Vacation, Grandchildren...

Next week Diane and I head north so we can attend our granddaughter's First Holy Communion at her family's parish in Hyannis on Cape Cod. There's something very special about a First Communion, especially when the children have been well-taught and prepared, and realize the beauty and greatness of the gift they are to receive for the very first time. You can see it in their expectant faces as they process to the altar to receive Jesus. And I know this will be true for our dear Camilla because her mom and dad love the Lord so much and will have reinforced what she has learned in their parish's sacramental preparation program.

It's important to remind these little ones that God, in Jesus Christ, gave us everything He had, including His very life. And so to ensure we remember this remarkable sacrificial act, God gives us this sacrament of Eucharist, this sacrament of thanksgiving. It's as if Jesus said to His apostles: "Remember me and all that I said and did in your presence. Remember my love for all, a love so great that I gave all that I had, even my very life." But the Eucharist isn't just a memory, and we must ensure the children realize this. In the Eucharist Jesus makes Himself present in a totally unique way, a sacramental way; and He is truly, really present, body and blood, soul and divinity. Let the children know that when they are lonely, when they need the comfort of another's presence, another's love, they need only come to Jesus in the Eucharist, and He will come to them as no one else can.

For these children First Holy Communion is the beginning of a new and closer relationship with Jesus, in which God gives us Himself, again and again. Jesus, in His last words to His disciples, told them, "I am with you always, until the end of the age" [Mt 28:20]. Through the gift of the Eucharist, Jesus keeps that promise.

The children also need to know that through the Eucharist God not only joins us with Himself but also with one another. We all receive that same Lord when we receive Holy Communion, and so we are joined together not only as a parish community but as a universal Church.

Diane and I are both looking forward to sharing this day with our beautiful Camilla. It should be a wonderful day.

Naturally, while we're in Massachusetts we'll make the rounds and spend some time with our other children and grandchildren, and visit some dear friends. We're looking forward to these visits and can hardly wait to see all the little ones. We have eight grandchildren and the eldest is only ten years old, so it's always a joy to see how much they have changed since we last saw them. They grow up to quickly

Travel, of course, should be one of the great pleasures of retirement. Without the constraints of work and other obligations, we can come and go pretty much at will, taking advantage of the good deals and saving at least a few of those scarce and increasingly valueless dollars. I have always enjoyed traveling, and still do. It makes little difference whether we fly or drive, or where we go. I simply enjoy the change of pace and scenery...at least for a while. There comes a point when you want and need to return to the comfortable surroundings of home, and that point seems to come a bit sooner with each trip. I suppose age has more than a little to do with it. About the only thing I dislike about traveling is the preparation -- going through the items on my list and checking them off one by one. And the worst item on that list is packing, especially for a trip in mid-spring when the weather is so unpredictable. The temptation is to pack two sets of clothes, one for warm and another for cool weather; but that just results in too much luggage. And so I guess we'll fall back on layering that lets us shed a layer or two as the temperature rises.

Well, it's time to start packing. I intend to post something occasionally during our trip, but not as often as usual.

God's peace...

Home Again...At Last

Isn't it interesting that the older I get, the more I look forward to returning home from travels? It's not that I didn't enjoy our recent trip to Spain and the week-long cruise we sandwiched in the middle of our visit. Not at all. Diane and I had a wonderful time and found Barcelona to be a remarkable city. But I can't recall a happier return home than this most recent one. Perhaps the series of flight delays, the marathon-like hikes to make our connections, the inexplicably altered seat assignments, the misdirected baggage that arrived two days late, the ever-decreasing legroom of "economy" class seating, the horrendously bad food (bad even for airline cuisine), the incompetent and surly TSA agents, and the fact that we had been awake for 25 hours...perhaps all of this colored my emotional state by the time we arrived at our front door. Yes, as the young Dorothy made clear before her departure from Oz, "There's no place like home." Unlike Dorothy, however, I had neither ruby slippers nor the assistance of a good witch and had to rely on Iberia Airlines for transportation.

Naturally, when I returned home late Thursday night, I returned to a full schedule. Friday evening I spoke to a local neighborhood group about the needs of the Wildwood Soup Kitchen. In exchange for this simple task Diane and I were privileged to join these good people in a tasty dinner catered by a local barbecue restaurant. Then these nice folks handed me a generous check for the soup kitchen and filled the back of my Kia SUV with canned goods and other foodstuffs. We thank God daily for His bounty!

Early Saturday morning five deacons from the parish drove to Orlando to take part in the dedication of St. James Cathedral. The Mass was celebrated by our former bishop, now Archbishop Thomas Wenski of Miami, who was joined by our bishop-designate John Noonan along with several other bishops. It was a wonderful event and only the second time I had witnessed the dedication rite of a church. For the deacons of the diocese, however, our trip turned into an all-day affair since lunch was followed by a mandatory three-hour workshop on the plague of human trafficking, particularly as it exists in Florida. It was certainly interesting and valuable, but it made for a long day. And then, when I returned home, I had to glue myself to the keyboard for several hours as I prepared a homily for a Sunday afternoon Mass.

For Diane and me, the next few days will be monopolized by our preparations for the Thanksgiving Day meal at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen. As the Thursday cook, Diane is always responsible for preparing and serving the Thanksgiving dinner. As is usual on Thanksgiving, we are blessed with many extra volunteers to help us before, during and after the event. As Diane's husband my task is really quite simple: do whatever she tells me. I find that when I do this and refrain from making any suggestions whatsoever, things go a lot more smoothly.

The other event that will occupy my time is my preparation for the Advent Mission that three of us deacons will conduct on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of next week. Fortunately, my talk is scheduled for Wednesday, so I have a few extra days of preparation. I am also blessed to follow two excellent homilists, both seasonal residents here in Florida: Deacon Richard Radford of the Archdiocese of Boston and Deacon Claude Curtin of the Diocese of Rochester. Please keep us in your prayers as we strive to help our parishioners, and ourselves, prepare our hearts and minds for the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ.

I  will post more about our trip in the days to come, and even include a few (only a few) of the nearly 2,000 digital photos I took. I may even add a few videos.

Let me just say that Europe, the cradle of Christendom, needs our prayers. In large numbers Europeans have turned their backs on Jesus Christ and His Church and unless they turn back to the Way, the Truth and the Life, they run a great risk, a risk of self-destruction. It's a very sad thing to see the majority of this formerly Christian people living as if God doesn't exist. But there are signs of hope, especially among the youth, a generation that appears to be rebelling against the nihilism of its parents, a generation that is searching for and remarkably open to the Truth. One day, early in our visit to Barcelona, we took the train and cable car to the Benedictine Monastery at Montserrat. While there, in the spiritual center of Catalonia, we witnessed a group of Catholic youth, accompanied by several young, enthusiastic priests, processing out of the basilica into the adjoining plaza where they sang and danced in praise of God. It was a wonderful, inspiring sight.

Catholic youth process from Montserrat basilica to the adjacent square

Youthful musicians at Montserrat

Pope Benedict's message to the youth of the world seems to resonate with so many as they experience the tremendous dissatisfactions that result from the material enticements which the world holds up before them. As he told the youth of Malta in April:

"God loves every one of us with a depth and intensity that we can hardly begin to imagine. And he knows us intimately, he knows all our strengths and all our faults. Because he loves us so much, he wants to purify us of our faults and build up our virtues so that we can have life in abundance. When he challenges us because something in our lives is displeasing to him, he is not rejecting us, but he is asking us to change and become more perfect...God rejects no one. And the Church rejects no one. Yet in his great love, God challenges all of us to change and to become more perfect...And so I say to all of you, 'Do not be afraid!'...You may well encounter opposition to the Gospel message. Today’s culture, like every culture, promotes ideas and values that are sometimes at variance with those lived and preached by our Lord Jesus Christ. Often they are presented with great persuasive power, reinforced by the media and by social pressure from groups hostile to the Christian faith. It is easy, when we are young and impressionable, to be swayed by our peers to accept ideas and values that we know are not what the Lord truly wants for us. That is why I say to you: do not be afraid, but rejoice in his love for you; trust him, answer his call to discipleship, and find nourishment and spiritual healing in the sacraments of the Church."

Sometimes, as I look at my own generation, I fear for the salvation of those who have created all sorts of false gods and idols in an attempt to taste the "good life" that the world has promised them. I'm afraid we missed our opportunity to change the world. Perhaps this new generation, this seeking generation full of questions and desiring reasons to hope, will be the ones to evangelize the world. I think, perhaps, they are more attuned to receiving Christ's message of hope and love than we ever were. Pray that it is so.

(Oh, by the way...I didn't post much from Spain for a number of reasons. First, the hotel's WiFi signal simply didn't reach our room during our last four days in Barcelona and I really didn't feel like sitting in the lobby with my netbook when I could be napping in my far more comfortable room. Second, posting from the iPhone was just far too tedious. And third, the cost of internet access aboard ship was prohibitively expensive...at least for my budget.)

God's peace...

Crumbling and Decay

Driving from Florida to Massachusetts has become almost routine for us. I've lost count of the number of round trips we've made since retiring in 2003, but this is our second trip this year. The first night we stopped in Roanoke Rapids, NC, just a few miles south of the Virginia border, and stayed at a slightly seedy Best Western motel. The next night, after a day of horrible traffic jams and absolutely insane drivers, I finally could take no more and, as we neared New Haven, Connecticut, decided to stop at the first place we found. It turned out to  be an Econolodge in West Haven and it, too, will never be confused with a real hotel. It was probably the least expensive hotel in town, but still cost us $100. My doubts about the place began when we discovered our room was already occupied -- always an embarrassing situation. It was almost a joy to rejoin the I-95 craziness the next morning. The rest of the trip was uneventful and ended with a wonderful reunion with children and grandchildren.

For now there's nothing to do but enjoy their company as we wait for our elder daughter to let us know that grandchild #8 is ready to make his debut. At the moment I'm babysitting while wife and daughter are out somewhere spending money. So far it's been pretty relaxing, just sitting on the couch with four little ones as we watch old reruns of "I Love Lucy." The kids, especially nine-year-old Pedro, love this show. There's a certain innocence about "Lucy" and its unlikely plots, but it's still a very funny show and the kids and I laughed aloud through three episodes.


Watching "Lucy", one is compelled to compare it to the televised trash that passes for entertainment these days. We've come a long way since the 1950s. And such comparisons inevitably conjure up thoughts of societal decay. This, in turn, reminded me of a recent Spengler post on this First Things blog that places the proposed "ground-zero mosque" in an interesting historical context. It's well worth a read: Why Did Rome Fall?

But of all the things I've read about the controversy in lower Manhattan, the best by far is that written today by Joseph Bottom, the Editor of First Things: Holy War Over Ground Zero.

One final comment about this controversy. Most of the "Muslim on the street" interviews I've seen seem to indicate that many American Muslims are against the construction of the mosque. Like most Americans they, too, consider the plan insensitive. Perhaps more telling is the fact that Hamas, Hezbollah, and Al-queda have all indicated support for the project.