The Town Where I Work

Yesterday, I was broke - dead flat broke. Yes I had a bit of money in the bank, but none to spare, and certainly no cash to spare. But it was Tuesday, the day of my bi-weekly trip with my boss to get spaghetti at the eatery a few hundred feet up the street. My lack of cash for the $5.25 lunch special of salad, spaghetti, and garlic bread, combined with the availability of some two-day-old leftovers prompted me to beg off and eat in my office. I never mentioned my impecunious state to my boss, or he would have insisted on buying my lunch, and I'd look like a beggar - something that I did not want.

So I ate my lunch - happily. But then, around 2:00, I got the need for a cold drink and caffeine dose, so I scraped around in my car, desk, and pockets, and came up with the princely sum of $1.38. Not quite enough for the big iced tea I wanted ($1.50 including tax) but I decided to go up the street (to the same eatery) and see if thay let me owe them the 12 cents.

Now this place is small, old, unpretentious as they come, and has a general air of happy-to-get-by comfort. Hard-working waitresses and cooks, healthy portions of good food. So, I went in, and immediately they got my tea. I met the waitress at the register, and sheepishly handed over my four quarters, two dimes, two nickels and eight pennies, explaining that it was all I had. She waved me off thoughtlessly as if to say "don't even worry about that". Then she inqured as to my absence from the "ritual" spaghetti lunch and I explained that I was broke.

At that point she became upset, as did the other waitress who overheard the conversation, and said "Don't you EVER skip a meal here because of that!! We know you are good for it and know you'll pay us when you can." The manager heard the conversation and affirmed the statement.

I love the town where I work. It is basic, blue-collar, honest, and true. It's funny how hard working honest people without a lot of money are wiling to help out when needed. That's the way I was taught to be. I am saddened by the fact that the world is corrupt and so different than that ideal, but I am even more heartened by the fact that that ideal is out there, still surviving, in places like the town where I work.

On Making Pancakes... or, why am I so slow?

Pancakes! First let me say that I LOVE pancakes. All kinds of pancakes - as long as ther not too exotic or (God forbid) cheesy. Love 'em.

Because of that love and appreciation I tend to want to eat them a lot. And having three little girls means that I have had to fix them a lot over the past few years. Even some of the microwaveable ones are actually quite good, and about as convenient a food as one can fix - period. But lately, thanks to economics and a new electric griddle, I have had the opportunity fix them over and over again.

Usually, I buy a Costco-sized bag of dry mix, add the necessary liquid(s) and start cooking - and they are consistently Very Good. Yesterday morning, however, I was flat out of mix, and decided to try to make them from scratch.

The FIRST ONE was barely off the griddle before I could tell the difference in aroma, appearance, and texture. The first bite and the flavor difference became readily apparent. WOW! I could not believe the difference and could not believe what I had been missing. Admittedly, pancakes are not some Julia Child fancy-pants recipe, but the fresh versus premix difference is all the more astounding.

This episode has had me thinking for the past 24 hours.....

The experience of learning the difference between fresh scratch cooking and pre-mix cooking is not a new one. It is a lesson that I have learned before, but is still being re-learned. And I have to wonder - WHY? Why must I forget such simple, essential lessons? In Other Words - Why Am I So Slow????

The priciple applies to every aspect of life, too. How can we all be so stupid? How is it that God can jump in to our lives and save us - like a fireman dragging us semi-concious from a burning building - and a few months later we are cruising along like He isn't really there or doesn't really care? And I gotta wonder - does He get frustrated with us? Does He know how stupid we feel when we re-learn His love and care?

Will we ever really learn - permanently? Or should we even try? Maybe the experience of actually re-learning His love is an essential part of appreciating it in a deeper and deeper way? And maybe that is why He made us the way we are....

Christ the King - Christ MY King

Today, being the feast of Christ the King, has gotten me thinking... thinking about the FACT of Christ the King, and thinking how that fact manifests itself in my life - or rather how I make that fact manifest in mine.

Because the FACT of that Kingship is out there. Whether we think about it or not, it's still there. And most importantly it is a FACT right NOW - in "real time" as we say. At times, we tend to think of Jesus returning as He promised, to reign as King of this world for all eternity. But in fact, he is King RIGHT NOW.

This morning, when I arrove in Church, I knelt in prayer, and began to contemplate that Kingship. And I began to relate it to the situation of a King or Lord in the medieval Europe - and now he would relate to his subjects, and they to him. And at that moment, it occurred to me that if I were to think of Jesus in that way - as not just A king, but MY king, how much better my life here and now would be.

Now all this may sound like a very "Baptist" thing to say. Baptists in particular make much of the idea of being saved and dedicating your life to Jesus. But I am not meaning it in that way - I didn't get "saved" before mass this morning. And the validity of that whole concept is not the issue here. I mean it solely in the sense of understanding the relationship....

Jesus is MY King!!!

And I am HIS subject.

And I am astonished at the strength and clarity that single, amazing FACT brings to my soul.

PERSPECTIVE....

Long Time - No Blog - Sorry to all...

But now I have been esconsed in my new job for nine (9) months, and I have made (or perhaps re-made) the most wonderful discovery about towns, cities, money, and life in general...

First and Foremost, as the hit song by Mellencamp says, I was born in a small town. Now, after almost exactly 40 years, I have managed to get back to one. And I know that I am Home. Five Hundred miles further south perhaps - but home nonetheless. In the most amazing (puzzling) way, I feel more at home here, where I work (population ±24,000) after nine months than I do 30 miles north, where I live (population ±256,000), even though I have lived there for 40 years - i.e. my entire adult life.

And I have figured it out, or so I think. The difference is the DYNAMIC of the town. In a larger city, there are sooo many people that it is common to only associate with a tiny fraction of the population, and that fraction is one that has been selected almost excusively because they share so many common interests, perspectives and attitudes. You don't live "with" your fellow citizens, you simply compete for space. This same self-isolation applies economically as well as socially - most "city dwellers" share very little time or space with those not of their "class". An affect made more acute by the fact that there are SO many different "classes" separated by so many $$$.

In contrast, in a smaller town, bthere are far far fewer people to "group" with. And as an inevitable result everyone is forced to associate to a much larger degree with those "different" from them. It's learning to coexist by simply coexisting. And the beautiful part of that is a much larger degree of acceptance - or rather learning to accept - those who are different. And economically, because the stratification is much more limited, there is much more "coexistence" in that way too.

So as if by osmosis, you "learn" your fellow citizens, their quirks and "funnies" and learn how not just to live with them, but to DEAL WITH THEM!

Now all this isn't perfect, of course. There are bigots and idiots everywhere and there always will be. And some people are just anti-social to the point of sociopathy. But they are everywhere, and at least in a smaller town, you have a greater chance of knowing who they are and how to be wary of them.

TLM TWO

By the grace of God, Easter Sunday was the second time of my adult life that I was priveledged to experience Mass in the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite...

And OH how I loved it! In spite of my longing for and predjudice in favor of the old mass, I was honestly unprepared for the way I was "drawn in" to the mass spiritually. In spite of not completely being able to keep up at times, I still felt like I was drawn in to the mass, almost organically. I suppose that is the way it is supposed to be, after all. The mass we describe as "according to the Missal of 1962" is actually the result of cenuries of evolution, all leading to a rite that could "draws in, organically" the generations who lived and died long before the idea of a "personal missal" which they could use to follow along. I found that my curiosity and desire to learn was the only reason to really follow along with the missal at all! I felt a part of the mass - the mystery - in a way I never have since I was a small child. I could go on, but it was beautiful and timeless and awe-inspiring and more words won't do any more to describe it.

As the saying goes - you had to be there.

As I said, this was my second "adult" TLM. My first TLM, last year at Our Lady of Grace in Greensboro (whre my daughter attends school) was a "special mass" which was attended by a massive crowd and while amazing (as I reported) it was not nearly as close or as intimate as what I experienced yesterday. Yesterday's mass was one of the regular bi-weekly masses which are offered at St. Benedict the Moor Church in Winston-Salem, NC. The building itself was small, intimate, and pretty. I cannot imagine a more perfect venue to experience the Mass of Ages "up close and personal". In fact, thanks to the enthusiasm of my daughter (who practically ran up the aisle), I was seated in the very first pew! This led to some embarassment at the very beginning of the mass, though, as my desire to show her the Missal and where we were in the mass (she loves to read along) led to a momentary distraction, leaving me (and her) standing when we should have been sitting - IN THE FRONT PEW.

But nonetheless I can honestly say: Ladies and Gentlemen, I have seen The Mass, and it works.

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Meme-Tagged By The Cannonball!!

Write whatever comes to your mind about yourself.

1- blogging.
A Love-Hate relationship, in a way. I love doing it, but hate NOT doing it. The problem is that there are times when I just don't really have anything interesting or insightful to say. Then, the blog kind of dies and I feel guilty about it. On the other hand, sometimes I have occasion to look back at some posts from months before, and think "Wow, I wrote THAT". So, more than anything else, blogging has given me the opportunity to pound out some interesting thoughts that otherwise would have been lost in the noise-filled echo-chamber that is my brain nowadays.

2- writing.
Oh how I wish I could!!!!! I am told that I am a great storyteller, and I so wish that I had the ability to translate that to paper (or ether). My brain is full of so many interesting stories, mostly of the people I have worked with, and interesting things (at least to me) that I have had the chance to see and do. Since I read the first chapter of All Creatures Great and Small, I thought that it (and it's three companion volumes) was the greatest book ever written. I'm no James Herriott, but I think I might be able to make a few people laugh, or at least giggle.

3- art.
Art is beautiful. Art is beauty. It is all around us. Everywhere, it seems, except those places where "modern man" intentionally tries to create it. Art takes time, both to create and appreciate, maybe that's why it is so rare in our world any more. This is true in the Catholic Church in the extreme. It appears that any art found nowadays is cookie-cutter 1970 minimalist. It all ha the appearance of a conscious effort to be "cutting edge", the problem being that the style was about 8 years past "cutting edge" in 1970 when it became the catholic norm. But I suppose the boomer generation, secure in their knowledge that everything they do is by definition the ultimate achievement, is unable to learn that the world has moved on.

4- crazy dreams.
I have been known to have some wild ones, on rare occasions leading to physical action. One time, I had a dream about getting into a fight with my former employer, grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, and shook him while screaming "You Son of a Bitch" over and over. The dream ended when my panicked (and previosly sleeping wife woke me up, as I actually, in my sleep, had HER by the nightgown, shaking her and saying the same thing!!!

5- nuns.
I miss them so much. I went to catholic school toward the end of the "mean nun" era. I had a few hard cases, but most were kind, firm, guiding. My daughter is in Catholic school (a GOOD one), and it breaks my heart to see her there without the whole platoon of nuns around. There is a retired nun (a real one, in a real habit) who still often is at the school in the mornings, either to visit or to help out, I'm not sure, and her very PRESENCE on the school grounds changes the whole atmosphere of the place. And I pray - every day - that my daughters, or at least one of them, gets the call.

6- music.
Love to listen to it, love to sing it - LOUD. Damn near any kind. But I have to be careful - very careful - because it can define my mood and attitude. I can drive myself into a real depression by listening to to much melancholy music.

7- normalcy.
I always wanted to be "normal", but never have been. Nowadays, since normal seems to be defined as a herd of starbucks coffee sipping SUV driving pretentious yuppies, I no longer have the desire to be "normal". On the other hand, now that I live in a real subdivision, I find that I can't fire up the grill or mow the lawn without the Monkees' song Pleasant Valley Sunday coming into my head!

Thanks CC, for the Meme, and for waking me up. I needed that.

City - vs - Everywhere Else

(Note: This post may reveal some of my prejudices, but so be it.)

For as long as I can remember, I have been disgusted with the way the overwhelming majority of these United States are portrayed in the media. The Big Media centers of New York and Los Angeles are populated with people whose view of the nation is (understandably) prejudiced. They live in "The City", and eventually operate under the assumption that "The City" is the the country. Hence we get a media driven phenomenon like the doomed presidential campaign of Rudi Giuliani - "America's Mayor". He was a good guy who did a good job of running New York City - especially post 911, but he had not a snowballs chance in hell of translating that into the presidency. The rest of the country "out here" are not under the same illusion that "The City" is just like everywhere else in the US - a condensed melting pot so to speak. Then there is the accurate, telling and incredibly offensive term "flyover country" which the "cultured" media use to describe the vast majority of the United States where the "uncultured" rest of us live.

There is a fantastic blog which I have been following the past few months, written by an Irish family in an RV, traveling across the U.S. This morning, I read this post wherein this fine Irish gentleman contrasts the America he has found with the America as perceived in his homeland. It is a fascinating description from an outsider's perspective on the nature of the American people. Or at least the nature of the good citizens of flyover country.

I no sooner read this post that I blunder into this story about raising children in New York City. Apparently, having three children in "The City" is now considered to be a status symbol - a way of saying "look what I can afford". This amazing column not only tells us that some see having three (3) children in "The City" as elitist or selfish or unnecessary, but gives an interesting insight into what parental life is like for "In upscale urban areas and tony suburban enclaves". From $800 a week child care to $50,000 a year nannies to hauling children to squash (the game, not the food), it give a glimpse of how "the other half" lives. To be fair, the author is in no way bragging about these things, and is in fact trying to make them seem a bit absurd or over the top - which they are. But that doesn't change the fact that there is no way that someone who loves in that world can understand what life is like in my world.

So next time you hear someone on a network TV broadcast from New York tell about their life and their travails. Remember that, well meaning though they may be, their perspective is unavoidably different than yours.

Madness

I once knew a man, friend of my fathers', who used to say "I like nice things". He was a very successful businessman with a history of, shall we say brutal successes. One was considered luck if, having done a deal with him, one survived with the skin on his back - because the shirt was gone for sure. That combined with an almost shark like sense for businesses that were bleeding and weak - ripe for the kill, so to speak.. His explanation of his success was always simply "I like nice things". That was it. He liked nice things, and he was willing to do whatever it took to get them and keep them. That said he was very kind and generous to my father, and I will always be grateful for that.

Now here we are, as a culture, doing whatever it takes to get and keep "Nice Things". In itself, that isn't bad, of course. I like nice things too. The problem occurs when the acquisition of those nice things involves giving up too many other, important things. Like home and family.

I plead guilty here. I work way too much, and so does my wife. But for some reason, I don't have much in the way of "nice things" to show for it. I have a decent house in a decent neighborhood - no McMansion for sure. I drive a ten year old used minivan, and thank God for it, because there's no way I could afford to replace it! I look at our income, and am amazed at how it seems to evaporate. Sometimes I just want to throw up my hands and say to hell with it all, pack the kids up in the van and just roll. To Montana or somewhere. I know that's not realistic, but DAMN. I just can't seem to see the way out. Perhaps there isn't one. Just keep my head down and keep paying off debts and wait to get out of the tunnel. I just hope I make it out of the tunnel in this lifetime!

Up To Speed

It occurs to me looking at my Blog that it has been over a month since I posted anything.

In the intervening weeks much has happened, both at work and at home, which has demanded a lot of time and energy. My wife being quite sick, along with various sick child maladies and demands kind of monopolized my time and energy. Work has been being quite demanding of my time as well. Having lost my assistant I am left doing all of the drafting myself, which, while not difficult, and enjoyable to some extent, is still a time demand.

In addition to the lack of Blogging for the past month, I have also been unable to attend the Mass in the Extraordinary Form which is being said on a pretty regular basis in Winston Salem now. I had it all worked out last Sunday. I was going to get ready while my wife was at mass with our daughter, and leave as soon has they got home. That was not to be, however. While she was at mass (leaving me home with the 1 and 2 year olds) I managed to get myself locked in the garage. I tried for several minutes to dismantle the lock to gain entry, but that was taking some time and frustration. Then, my daughter started called me, worried because she was alone. That was all it took. Two slams of the shoulder, the door frame gave way, and I was in! BUT, that necessitated me taking the nest several hours to try to reconstruct the door frame. Hence the missing of the TLM.

It all worked out okay, though. I went to 7:00 PM mass at Our Lady of Grace, and it was beautiful. Feast of Christ the King! The "Big Six" candles lit on the high altar, the vestments were gorgeous, and there was a matching chalice veil! Praise God! It actually felt like church.

There is more to talk about that has happened in the intervening weeks, but I'll drop it at this right now. The rest of the stuff is more particular, and best covered in individual posts.

Life and Times

Anybody who has read or heard the news in the last few months knows about the problems in the mortgage and housing industries. Those of us involved in the industry have been watching and listening warily - fearfully - to each new bit of news. It was one of those situations where you knew something bad was going to happen, but there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Amazingly (at least to me) the industry kept plugging along like there was no tomorrow. We were swamped with work, subdivisions going up, houses going up, development everywhere.

Until this month.

Now, in a span of a few weeks, most of our big clients called and put a hold on all of their projects "until at least next spring". Now there is little work in-house, and very few prospects for more. I personally have no work to do to speak of. Yesterday we laid off half of my field staff, and then we had a company meeting wherein it was explained just how dire the situation is, and how we think we can all hang on until January, but after that, unless something changes, we will have to cut virtually everyone else. This is all set in the background knowledge that there are several firms in this business, both big and small, who have or are getting ready to go out of business entirely. Needless to say, it gives me pause.

Of course, I am prone to overreaction, so maybe it'll all work out and happy days will be here again in a few months! In the meantime, I can't get this song out of my head...



It has been said that those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it. But that ignores the fact that those who do remember history are doomed to worry about repeating it!!!!

Times of Life

For years, many years, all of my adult life, that is, I always thought that I was born 50 years too late. I have said so on many occasions. I felt that way (and still do to some extent) because, as a student of history, I had the feeling that the world would have fit my personality, interests, and quirks just perfectly.
Being born in 1909 rather than 1959 would have had me grow up during the 'teens and the twenties, during the emergence of the United States as what would come to be know as a superpower. Also, the fashion, the music, just the culture in general, was just - well, just ME.

Above all - the trains....The 1920's was the pinnacle of American railroading. Real trains, Real people, Steam Locomotives - everywhere. On top that - streetcars everywhere!!!! Oh how I dream of it!

Of course, I would have turned 20 just as the stock market crashed, and had to live through the Great Depression. That would have been tough. Being 32 on December 7th, 1941 would have probably made me too old to fight in the war, but not too old to play some part in that historic conflict. My children would have grown up before the cesspool of the 1960's and thus avoided contamination, and my grandchildren would be born some time around my real date of birth. All that and I'd still be 60 when we landed on the moon - the pinnacle of American accomplishment. God willing, I'd live long enough to see the dismal 1970's through and live to see Reagan years and the fall of the Soviet Union.

What a life that would be!!!!!!

But that was then - and this is now.

Having children, watching them grow up, has made me think differently of my real times and the life I've had. Now, I think back to my childhood, what I had and what I saw, and I feel like the luckiest man that had ever been born.

Being born at the very end of the 1950's let me be raised in a small-town environment unpolluted by too much modern culture. Surrounded by strong nuclear families, including being raised alongside my cousins, let me grow up safe, secure, and free in a way that no child nowadays gets to be. I remember the times when TV wasn't on! Not THE TV in our house, but TV period, those times, back then in the middle of the day, when the stations would stop broadcasting altogether and go off the air. Instead of staring at the tube, as my children do, we were with our friends - playing.

But NOT just playing, we were learning. Learning about each other and learning how to be members of a society. Also, learning how to behave in a real, adult world. When we were out and about, we were expected to behave and interact and learn. We went to a restaurant and walked in with our heads held high, greeting and acknowledging the world around us - not ignoring that world with our face glued to a Game Boy. Children in those days grew up in the adult world, not pandered to in a child world of their own.

The day-to day things I have seen growing up were so unique too. I went tho a Catholic school (St. Mary's, in Avoca Pa.) at a time when all the classes were taught by nuns, real nuns with habits and yeardsticks and a real convent next door to the school. I went to Mass every day before school and marched in ranks across the street to our school - no matter what the weather. We had our lunchtime milk in glass bottles, at least for the first few years I was there. I walked home from school - sometimes by "shortcuts" which were in retrospect far longer that the "regular" route, but went through mysterious alleys and backyards and graveyards and even down the railroad tracks. Now I freely admit that the idea of one of my daughters, at age 8, walking through alleys and graveyards and along (busy) railroad tracks scares makes me shudder, but the world was different back then. And I would give anything - ANYTHING - to get my children to experience it.

Then, as an adult, I survived the 1970's (I hated the 70's), and got to see the amazing techological changes that we have today. And above all else - ALL ELSE, I was at the right age and right place and right time to meet and marry the most amazing, wonderful female who has lived on this earth since probably the Assumption. I got to see my daughters be born, and to see the blessings of the medical technology we have today help them out a few critical situations.

And now, I am blessed to be witnessing the revolution in the church which is going to pull us back from the brink of extinction, or worse, apathy. And I pray that I will live to see the day when the last tambouring banging, handclapping, Haugen singing mass is celebrated and the mass returns to the world of adults. And the day when the last table altar is decomissioned and sent to the junk pile. Somehow I get the feeling that, years on, we will all look back on the last 40 years of litugical history the same way people look at old photos of themselves wearing outlandish, trendy clothes or hairstyles and think "WHAT the HELL was I THINKING?!?!?!?!?!?"