This old world has given us at least two reasons to celebrate today.
In a far away country, one said to be where the Garden of Eden was located, millions of embattled people tasted what it means to be free. Iraqis voted in national elections, amidst very little reported violence. A miracle, some may say.
And, on a much smaller but no less valuable scale, in New York, we saw on the news that a tiny baby was amazingly tossed three stories down by its mother from a burning building and caught by a very sure-handed public servant.
Child, and mother are doing just fine, thank you.
Rejoice, for a child is alive, and so is the spirit of democracy.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Sunday, December 11, 2005
ARE YOU A GOOD WAIT-ER?
This is an example of my column in the weekly paper. A bit longer than usual.
“Wait a second” I had been known to say to one of my offspring in an earlier day, especially when I was trying to tie a shoe on a constantly moving foot, or pull a diaper tight on Mr. Wiggly Butt there on the bed. Unfortunately, a second was about all they could manage. For life was just too full of other interesting things to do than wait.
It doesn’t really get any better as we get older. We live in a hurry-up world, trying to pack an inordinate amount of activity into our waking hours, but still seem to get caught in the “wait zone” more often than not. Wait for that light to change, the nurse to call your name after sitting in the waiting room for what seemed like days, for the end of the work day. How about waiting for Santa, counting the days until vacation, or the seemingly interminable 9 months for little Arnold or Adelaide to decide to find their way into the light? Yeah, we do a lot of biding the old time. Why, Wilson Pickett even had to “wait for the midnight hour.” I guess that’s when he got off work, or something.
Are you a good waiter? Can you handle traffic, slow service, long lines? Patience is that one virtue that I am not genetically wired for. I guess I get it from my dear old dad, who knew every short cut known to modern man, and would drive 6 blocks in three different directions, violating most road ordinances, to avoid a main street and “that damn traffic”.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that my mom gave me vitamins when I was a squirmy second grader, to the complete horror of my teacher Miss Murphy. It is a good thing there were no hot lines then, otherwise mommy would have had a visit from “the worker.”
Of course, us non-patient sorts always seem to get into situations that put us to the test. I am the guy who should wear a sign on my back in a store: “Standing behind me in line may be hazardous to your health.” I always seem to que up behind the lady who has managed to pick up the only pair of jeans in North America without a tag.
“Price check in Women’s Wear,” says the hapless clerk, to the department where everyone has just gone on break.
“Hey, I’ll just leave some cash on the counter, Ok, and you can keep the change,” I’d like to say, but of course, I seldom have that much cash. So I just try to close my eyes and imagine I am in a canoe on an ice-blue lake, miles from civilization. You know, like the self-help books say to do………
It never works.
The worst wait for me is always at the auto license bureau. Even if there are only a few folks ahead of me, I always worry that I have forgotten that one piece of paper that will require me to look like an idiot when I get up to the counter, and have to go back home to retrieve. It’s like that bad dream where you have forgotten to study for that big test, or are standing in the street in your underwear. It has only happened to me once (no, NOT standing in the street in my underwear….forgetting my paperwork!) but that is enough to raise the stress level every time I have to renew the tags. I bet the people at those offices keep a secret tally in the break room, maybe even getting bonuses for every moron whom they get to send away with the words “I’m sorry, sir, you have last year’s personal property tax receipt,” right before they break out into uncontrollable laughter.
So maybe that’s not the worst wait you can think of. Fretting out a surgery for a loved one or bad news from the accountant can be a lot more troublesome. But any way you skin it, waiting is just no fun
Maybe I’ll bide my time from now on, waiting for the promise of a new day.
Now that sounds like something worth waiting for.
“Wait a second” I had been known to say to one of my offspring in an earlier day, especially when I was trying to tie a shoe on a constantly moving foot, or pull a diaper tight on Mr. Wiggly Butt there on the bed. Unfortunately, a second was about all they could manage. For life was just too full of other interesting things to do than wait.
It doesn’t really get any better as we get older. We live in a hurry-up world, trying to pack an inordinate amount of activity into our waking hours, but still seem to get caught in the “wait zone” more often than not. Wait for that light to change, the nurse to call your name after sitting in the waiting room for what seemed like days, for the end of the work day. How about waiting for Santa, counting the days until vacation, or the seemingly interminable 9 months for little Arnold or Adelaide to decide to find their way into the light? Yeah, we do a lot of biding the old time. Why, Wilson Pickett even had to “wait for the midnight hour.” I guess that’s when he got off work, or something.
Are you a good waiter? Can you handle traffic, slow service, long lines? Patience is that one virtue that I am not genetically wired for. I guess I get it from my dear old dad, who knew every short cut known to modern man, and would drive 6 blocks in three different directions, violating most road ordinances, to avoid a main street and “that damn traffic”.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that my mom gave me vitamins when I was a squirmy second grader, to the complete horror of my teacher Miss Murphy. It is a good thing there were no hot lines then, otherwise mommy would have had a visit from “the worker.”
Of course, us non-patient sorts always seem to get into situations that put us to the test. I am the guy who should wear a sign on my back in a store: “Standing behind me in line may be hazardous to your health.” I always seem to que up behind the lady who has managed to pick up the only pair of jeans in North America without a tag.
“Price check in Women’s Wear,” says the hapless clerk, to the department where everyone has just gone on break.
“Hey, I’ll just leave some cash on the counter, Ok, and you can keep the change,” I’d like to say, but of course, I seldom have that much cash. So I just try to close my eyes and imagine I am in a canoe on an ice-blue lake, miles from civilization. You know, like the self-help books say to do………
It never works.
The worst wait for me is always at the auto license bureau. Even if there are only a few folks ahead of me, I always worry that I have forgotten that one piece of paper that will require me to look like an idiot when I get up to the counter, and have to go back home to retrieve. It’s like that bad dream where you have forgotten to study for that big test, or are standing in the street in your underwear. It has only happened to me once (no, NOT standing in the street in my underwear….forgetting my paperwork!) but that is enough to raise the stress level every time I have to renew the tags. I bet the people at those offices keep a secret tally in the break room, maybe even getting bonuses for every moron whom they get to send away with the words “I’m sorry, sir, you have last year’s personal property tax receipt,” right before they break out into uncontrollable laughter.
So maybe that’s not the worst wait you can think of. Fretting out a surgery for a loved one or bad news from the accountant can be a lot more troublesome. But any way you skin it, waiting is just no fun
Maybe I’ll bide my time from now on, waiting for the promise of a new day.
Now that sounds like something worth waiting for.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
THAT SWEET CHARIOT
The unique position that people of my age are in was never so apparent as in the events of the past 10 days. Last weekend, my father-in-law fell and needed us to help him out. He lives alone since his wife passed away three years ago. He has been in steady decline. The in-laws and my wife are great with the concern and care. But there is always the worry.
This week, my mom had a heart attack and needed stents. At 84, she is also in decline, and may have had some small strokes that are effecting her memory for words.
And so it goes.
This is what is meant by the "sandwich generation". I have a college kid and a freshman in high school to still raise... although the older feels she is raised, and, pretty much, she is right...she has grown to be a beautiful and independent young woman. So we have it on both ends of the life pole, not to mention the ever-increasing category of "grandchildren."
The Native Americans see life as a circle, with begining and end meeting at the same place. During that journey, we are at various places on that circle.
Something that a priest friend of ours said today brings to mind that the spiritual "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" is never truer than when it applies to the end of that circle. Old Elijah is coming on that fiery chariot, and we are all waiting for our ride, "comin' for to carry me home."
For our parents, that chariot, she is a-comin'.
It is up to us to us to help them prepare for that last ride home.
This week, my mom had a heart attack and needed stents. At 84, she is also in decline, and may have had some small strokes that are effecting her memory for words.
And so it goes.
This is what is meant by the "sandwich generation". I have a college kid and a freshman in high school to still raise... although the older feels she is raised, and, pretty much, she is right...she has grown to be a beautiful and independent young woman. So we have it on both ends of the life pole, not to mention the ever-increasing category of "grandchildren."
The Native Americans see life as a circle, with begining and end meeting at the same place. During that journey, we are at various places on that circle.
Something that a priest friend of ours said today brings to mind that the spiritual "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" is never truer than when it applies to the end of that circle. Old Elijah is coming on that fiery chariot, and we are all waiting for our ride, "comin' for to carry me home."
For our parents, that chariot, she is a-comin'.
It is up to us to us to help them prepare for that last ride home.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
FAITH
I mentioned at work that today was the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, and the word "feast" hit me square in the brain. Catholics let this term roll off their tongues without even thinking about. But feast it is, in every sense of the word....
Consider Mary. A poor Jewish girl, no real wealth, but from the House of David lineage. Still, a lot of others were also from this background. But she is considered holy and venerable because she was the vessel within which God placed his son.
So she had to be someone fairly special, don't you think?
I know a lot of religions think that Catholics are idolators, worshipping saints and statues and Mary. In reality, these are just more ways to pray.
So enjoy the feast of Mary this day.
Consider Mary. A poor Jewish girl, no real wealth, but from the House of David lineage. Still, a lot of others were also from this background. But she is considered holy and venerable because she was the vessel within which God placed his son.
So she had to be someone fairly special, don't you think?
I know a lot of religions think that Catholics are idolators, worshipping saints and statues and Mary. In reality, these are just more ways to pray.
So enjoy the feast of Mary this day.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
THE END OF AN ERA
Well, we finally did it.
Ever since our first three-foot tree in our first apartment (the one that Jill's brothers all laughed at because they always tried to get the Rockefeller Plaza trees twin into their small North County bungalow), we've had a real live, honest-to-tradition Christmas tree. And we have been proud of it, too. But after last years experience of the loss of multiple ornaments and tangled lights and a need to nail the dang bush into the baseboards with fishing wire.....for the second season in a row....well, we said last January that it was time to go the...the, uh...the artificial route. ( There....I said it.) Our oldest son said he was sorely disappointed in us, and that he wasn't coming home for Christmas this year. Well, he was only half kidding, because he can't come home anyway, due to work. But the message was clear.
We were "selling out."
Still, we made a couple of visits to the local family-owned hardware store display at the Otto's Handyman-True Value, and amidst some sadness for bygone days, made the move to the practical.
"It's gonna be fine," said I, to my sad wifey, as we walked to the car. "I'm so sorry," said she, to the collection of forlorn little trees out on the lot.
Charlie Brown and Linus would not be proud of me.
But as I contemplate the idea of a non-shedding, non-flammable, and best of all, non-falling-to the-floor-crashing-in-the-middle-of-the-night disaster area in the family room....well, let's just say that this idea may not be as bad as it first seemed.
Ever since our first three-foot tree in our first apartment (the one that Jill's brothers all laughed at because they always tried to get the Rockefeller Plaza trees twin into their small North County bungalow), we've had a real live, honest-to-tradition Christmas tree. And we have been proud of it, too. But after last years experience of the loss of multiple ornaments and tangled lights and a need to nail the dang bush into the baseboards with fishing wire.....for the second season in a row....well, we said last January that it was time to go the...the, uh...the artificial route. ( There....I said it.) Our oldest son said he was sorely disappointed in us, and that he wasn't coming home for Christmas this year. Well, he was only half kidding, because he can't come home anyway, due to work. But the message was clear.
We were "selling out."
Still, we made a couple of visits to the local family-owned hardware store display at the Otto's Handyman-True Value, and amidst some sadness for bygone days, made the move to the practical.
"It's gonna be fine," said I, to my sad wifey, as we walked to the car. "I'm so sorry," said she, to the collection of forlorn little trees out on the lot.
Charlie Brown and Linus would not be proud of me.
But as I contemplate the idea of a non-shedding, non-flammable, and best of all, non-falling-to the-floor-crashing-in-the-middle-of-the-night disaster area in the family room....well, let's just say that this idea may not be as bad as it first seemed.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
HAVE I GOT A DEAL FOR YOU
In the midst of scenes of bargain hunters trampling over people to get the best deal, it came to mind while sitting in Mass today that the best deal was offered by the guy on the cross over to my right. Didn't cost me a thing, ready and waiting for the asking....I'm talking about salvation, brothers and sisters.
I take it for granted, but it is there for the taking. All I have to do is say "Yes" to the Lord....and then live my life accordingly.
I take it for granted, but it is there for the taking. All I have to do is say "Yes" to the Lord....and then live my life accordingly.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
BOOMERISM
The term "Baby Boomer" has really received some play in past years. Now a lot of us are pushing the retirement envelope, having grandkids, waking up aching, looking for medical support, having parents become ill and pass away....the whole thing. Unfortunately, all this causes us to become self-focused to a large degree, just at a time when we should be stepping out of own little worlds to support our kids and our spouses and our community and churches.
Instead, we are fretting about that 401K, trying yoga and alternative therapies, hoping we can get that slice fixed before the next golf season kicks in. And while these aren't bad things, becuase we should be concerned about finances and health and recreation, we really should watch out that it doesn't overtake our life. I have fallen into this hole, and I need to crawl out.
My darling wife has pulled me up short on this lately. (Don't know what I would do without her...)
She tells me to "just get back to living...."
Great advice for us all.
Instead, we are fretting about that 401K, trying yoga and alternative therapies, hoping we can get that slice fixed before the next golf season kicks in. And while these aren't bad things, becuase we should be concerned about finances and health and recreation, we really should watch out that it doesn't overtake our life. I have fallen into this hole, and I need to crawl out.
My darling wife has pulled me up short on this lately. (Don't know what I would do without her...)
She tells me to "just get back to living...."
Great advice for us all.
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