Scorpion Stalking Duck

Book Review Up

2012-01-31T21:49:00.000-06:00

There are a couple of new book reviews up at Praise Of This Book.

Here is the link for the good review, which is a series of essays on the sources for J.R.R. Tolkien's works. It is called Tolkien and the Study of His Sources. I was impressed with the essays, especially after discovering that one of them was written by a professor at Texas A & M/Commerce.

What a small world.

Remembering Fr. Downey

2012-01-29T15:34:00.001-06:00

Four years ago on this day, Fr. James Downey, OSB died. He was a Monk of St. Benedict's Abbey in Atchinson, Kansas. Part of his work was in the Pro-Life movement.

I knew him while I was in residency and fellowship. He referred to me as his private physician - probably the only person in the world who will ever consider me as that.

The anniversary of his death comes close on the heels of the HHS rule which will make contraceptives mandatory for all health insurance carriers. The U.S. Catholic bishops have properly voiced their opposition to this law which would make all those compliant to be guilty of mortal sin. It is ironic, though, that for so many years most priests and bishops have either opposed the Church's teaching on contraception and abortion or have remained silent on the subject, and now they expect the Faithful to join them in their fight against this ruling. Unfortunately, most poorly formed Catholics see no problem with contraception. Here is a video which explains it better than I ever could:

Thankfully, Fr. Downey was on the side of Life, and the Magesterium.

Eternal rest grant unto him, and may perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul, and all the souls of the Faithful Departed, through the Mercy of God, rest in peace.

Book Review: Lifting the Wheel of Karma

2012-01-28T23:07:00.001-06:00

Lifting the Wheel of Karma: A Profound Spiritual Journey of Extraordinary Healing and Redemption, by Paul H. Magid

Point Dume Press, 2012

"Ergo silebo." - J.R.R. Tolkien

"I think we must get it firmly fixed in our minds that the very occasions on which we should most like to write a slashing review are precisely those on which we had much better hold our tongues."

- C.S. Lewis

I seem to always be in the minority. I did not care for this book, and would not recommend it. I looked in vain for anyone who shared my opinion. When I keep finding objectionable things as I read a book, I finally get to the point where I have to reject the whole thing. And now, meditating on the words of Tolkien and Lewis up above, I shall make this review as constructive as possible.

I should start by saying that I do not reject this book because it presents Eastern religion or mysticism. I actually enjoyed the part of the book which discussed the various aspects of the Indian religions. As a reader, knowing this to be fiction, there were certain things which happened in this book (spoilers) which I took as plausible because they were consistent with the eastern mysticism presented in this book. In short, I went ahead and, for argument's sake, assumed some things to be true which I know to be not true. I would be more specific, but I would have to mention a spoiler.

I'll start with the things I did liked about the book. I think Mr. Magid described the settings very well, especially those of the scenes in India. I especially thought that he did a good job describing Lahiri's village and environs. Perhaps it's just reminded me of the time I spent in the mountains of Switzerland when I was a little boy. Either way, I felt as if I were in India, in the mountains.

Now onto the negatives........

Joseph's brother Bill accompanies him all the way to the other side of the world, traveling by airplane, rail, taxi, and finally even by ox-cart to reach their final destination in the Himalayas. Then, once Joseph meets up with Lahiri, Bill turns around and leaves. Just like that. He doesn't rest overnight before starting on the long journey home. He doesn't eat. Heck, he doesn't even go to the bathroom before leaving his brother. What about his return ticket? Did he know how long it would take to escort his brother to the mountains? These are the kind of inconsistencies which bother me about books. I finished the book still fretting over Bill leaving so abruptly.
Then there is the question of the wheelchair. Unless I misunderstood, the main character needs a wheelchair to get around. Not only does he need a wheelchair, but I think he also had use of only one hand, which would make an electric wheelchair an absolute necessity. I have a little experience with wheelchairs, from assisting my brother with his wheelchair, to transporting patients throughout a hospital while I was a college student, to spending an arduous day in one as part of our training in medical school. So it seemed a bit farfetched to have a character who relies on an electric wheelchair go off to a village so remote that he had to reach it riding in an ox cart. Every rock, carpeting, any slight pitch or camber in the sidewalk - not to mention curbs - were like insurmountable obstructions to my patients and I as we traveled along; just imagine that same wheelchair in a village without any 'advanced' amenities.

Don't get me started on things which were snuck through airport security......

Finally, there is the question of what constitutes a novel. Reading this book, I suddenly realized that I was halfway through it when I reached page ninety-five. Around the same time, I noticed the phrase 'A Novel' on the front cover. While the definition of a novel does not stipulate a certain number of pages to qualify, it does suggest that a novel should encompass a span of time completely, not sketchily. This book covers about fifty-five years in less than two hundred pages, leaving a lot of questions as to what happened in the gaps in the story. I figure that there could have been a lot of friendships made and broken, loves found and lost, and mayhem created which the author could have included in his book. This was the ultimate disappointment.

I suspect that most readers will disagree with me, but thats how it goes sometimes. I welcome you to read this book and make your own judgement on the merits of this book.

Details:

Paul H. Magid web site:
http://www.paulhmagid.com/

Paul H. Magid Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/KarmaNovel#!/profile.php?id=100002979900843

Lifting the Wheel of Karma Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/KarmaNovel

Tribute Books Blog Tours Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Tribute-Books-Blog-Tours/242431245775186

Lifting the Wheel of Karma blog tour site:
http://liftingthewheelofkarma.blogspot.com/

An Interesting Blog

2012-01-26T20:20:00.000-06:00

We have been following this blog ever since we met the family featured in it back in 2010. We met this family up in Pennsylvania at the house of a friend we have in common. They wanted to meet us because they liked my blog and wanted to meet me.

I would say that their blog is a lot cooler than mine.

I invite you to check out Pondered In My Heart. Enjoy.

New Book Review at 'Praise Of This Book' Blog

2012-01-21T18:42:00.000-06:00

I recently wrote a book review about a World War II pilot's experience in the CBI - the China/Burma/India Theatre. You can read it here.

In my review, I made a comment about the author trying to get credit for one more 'kill' - shooting down an airplane in combat - long after the fact. It struck me as odd that a man would be concerned with winning more glory for himself, especially as he approaches the end of his life.

The book made me think about what I would want people to remember about me after I am dead. Would I want to be remembered as the fighter pilot who shot down 'X' number of enemy aircraft during the war? Or is killing the enemy something which I would like to leave behind?

Shooting a 70-Year Old Rifle

2012-01-16T23:55:00.003-06:00

"That is not your Mosin Nagant you have. It belonged to others before you and will belong to others after you are gone. Look after it and pass it on with pride. It deserves it."

- Author Unknown

Finally, I took the Mosin Nagant 91/30 rifle out to the range. It had been almost a year since I bought it, and I hadn't been shooting recently, either. Of course, I still blogged about this Russian rifle twice: once when I first got it, and second when I left them outside in the summer heat to get some of the Cosmoline off of them. In this second posting, I made an interesting observation on the 'religiosity' of the Mosin Nagant.

Before taking it to the range, I took the gun apart. I did it to check out all the parts, make sure they all looked intact, and to clean all that Russian version of Vaseline known as Cosmoline. At the end of World War II, these rifles were refurbished and then dipped in vats of Cosmoline, a petroleum-based substance used to limit rust and corrosion. Then they were set aside, ready for the start of the Great Patriotic War against the Capitalistic American Enemy. That never happened, and so at some point people in Russia realized that people all over the world would pay under $100 for these surplus firearms, even if they were still smothered in a cake of old Cosmoline.

Notice that the economy has even hit the surplus firearm market. I payed a little bit more than $100 for mine, but not much.

One other thing was done for each Mosin Nagant. Each one was blessed, considering it could have been used for more than just defending Mother Russia. Combatants often abandon morals - recall news of some atrocious behavior by our Marines in Afghanistan - and I did not want to have what could have been a weapon of oppression in my house.

As I said, I took this gun apart to clean it. If you don't do this, the cosmoline tends to ooze out of all the nooks and crannies as the rifle heats up. Then you have to clean off more than just the usual metal and gunpowder reside off of your hands.

It got really hot when we shot it, by the way.

I noticed that there was an additional bolt in the stock of this rifle. When I looked inside I saw that there was a break in the stock where the wood bridged from one side to the other

Another thing I forgot to mention was that the armorers seemed to be a little stamp-crazy when they worked on these. Nearly every flat surface would have some sort of symbol or letter - some of them Cyrillic - indicating Lord only knows what about the rifle. There are online resources which can help decipher the marks. In the case of this rifle, it was made in 1942 at the Izhevsk weapons manufacturing plant in Russia. Typically the serial number is stamped on the receiver, the base plate of the magazine, and the butt plate. In my case, all three serial numbers are the same, indicating that those were probably the original parts rather than those scavenged from another rifle.

After I put it back together, this is what it looked like. Of course, I still don't know what those few leftover pieces were supposed to go.......

Then I put it on my bedroom floor and took another picture, complete with my unpolished boots.

Game Day. We took it to Elm Fork Shooting Sports in Dallas. It is located in a bad part of town, unfortunately. I told the children to avoid looking at the advertisements; most of the businesses around there were the kind that one finds around firing ranges, airports, and military installations. Sad.

Still, the folks there were really nice. I realized that the business card I had gotten from them last year - complete with holes punched in it - was actually a ticket for 10 visits to the rifle/pistol or shotgun ranges. In other words, I had already paid for our shooting that day. Woo-hoo!

We got a lane in the 'tactical' part of the range so we could shoot both rifle and pistols without moving around a lot. Here the Mosin Nagant is lying on the bench, and the target is 30 yards away.

I wanted to shoot it first, not only because IT'S MY TOY, but also because I knew from my reading that there was a small chance that the firing pin could penetrate the primer too much and cause some of the escaping gases to spray back toward the operator. I donned protective eyewear to go over my glasses, and assumed the position. I lined up the center 'X' with the sights, and tried to control my breathing and steadying my aim. I suddenly glanced at the end of the bolt, where a scratch made by some armorer long ago indicated that the firing pin was positioned correctly. I started to think about that Canadian rifle from World War I, the one with the straight-pull bolt, which had a nasty tendency to occasionally slam back into the eye of the soldier. I said a quick prayer to my guardian angel, took aim, breathed in, exhaled slowly, and gently squeezed the trigger.

Bam!

Not bad. The kick wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I studied the target. I was sure I must have hit the target. I mean, there was no way that this old rifle, well known for its accuracy, could have not hit the target. Nothing. I was dumbfounded. I slid back the bolt, ejecting the first spent shell, and fed in the next cartridge into the receiver. I still couldn't believe it. I had totally missed the target!

Just then I noticed that there was an unusually large hole in the target to the right of mine. Two men at the station next to us were having a field day shooting off .223 caliber rounds. They had a whole bunch of weapons laid out, including at least one AK-47, but at that time they were shooting the smaller caliber AR-15 bullets. They either did not notice, or did not care, that a larger bullet (approximately .30 caliber) had suddenly joined their groupings.

Well that was it. Here I am firing it. We tried using the little stripper clips to speed load it, but they did not work. We shall have to try it some other time. This is me:

Here Benedict(15) shoots the Mosin Nagant from a standing position. You can get a good look at the rifle and how fun it is to shoot.

As we continued firing, eventually putting 60 rounds through it, I noticed a few things. One is that the barrel and receiver got really hot. I burned my thumb when I touched it one time, and I noticed that the heat coming off the barrel made the target seem to swim in the sights. I also noticed that the action seemed stiffer and harder to work. Then there was the shoulder discomfort. My shoulder is still a little sore today. When you watch Cornelius (11) shoot, you can see how the bolt seems to be fighting us and that the recoil could really do a number on one's shoulder or collarbone:

Each of us shot almost 20 rounds through the Mosin Nagant; one of my daughters did accompany us and at least shot it once just to see what it was like. By the end of the day, all I could think about was how hard it must be shooting that rifle while German soldiers charge at you. Another reason to pray for peace.

The next day, I shot pellet guns in the back yard with some of the younger boys. That will have to be another story for another day:

And now for something completely different:

Ireland IS Gorgo

2012-01-07T01:48:00.003-06:00

Movie Review

Gorgo
1961

Directed by Eugene Lourie

A fifty year old British-made Godzilla-Wanna-Be Monster Movie gets me thinking about Irish Citizenship, the song 'Four Green Fields,' and Ireland in general.

What did I have, said the fine old woman
What did I have, this proud old woman did say
I had four green fields, each one was a jewel
But strangers came and tried to take them from me
I had fine strong sons, who fought to save my jewels
They fought and they died, and that was my grief said she

I am eligible for Irish citizenship, if I want to go through the trouble of getting it. My mother's parents were both born in Ireland, and so all I need to do is show proof that my grandfather, Manus O'Donnell, was born over there. After that, it should be simple to get ample proof that my mother is his daughter and that I am her son. I thought it would be easy, until I looked over copies of some documents my mother had about Grandpop. There was no copy of a birth certificate; in addition, the various documents all had my grandfather born on a different day. It appears as if I would have to do more research in order to obtain duel citizenship.

Nowadays I have a better reason to forget about becoming an Irish citizen. Recently, I read that Ireland closed its embassy to the Vatican. The reason given was that the embassy was not producing anything of economic value for Ireland, and with the poor economy, certain government functions which had little benefit would have to go. This just seems to be another part of the European Union's campaign to deny its Christian - or dare I say, Catholic - origins. Economic value? Was that the reason St. Patrick returned to Ireland to spread the Faith? Now that the European economy is hurting - and ours is too - the Irish may find that they will be needing some of their cultural roots to make it through hard times. Perhaps they will find out it Jim Stenson was right when he referred to CHARACTER as what you have left when all the money is gone......

Never mind about dual citizenship; I'll stay a Texan. Sure, all my ancestors were from Ireland, but far more important is my Catholic Faith. My Faith is reflected in the names of our children, which represent a lot of nationalities, from the Pole Maximilian Kolbe, to the Roman soldier St. Theodore Tyro, to the Mexican priest Blessed Miguel Pro. This is far more important than my Irish heritage. It does make me wonder, though, just how many of those saints were started on the road to Heaven thanks to an Irish missionary.

Plot Summary

These are the kinds of thoughts which kept running through my mind as I watched the movie Gorgo, which on the surface looks as if it is just a British version of Godzilla. Briefly, Gorgo starts off the coast of Ireland by the fictional Nara Island. A salvage ship enters the port after being damaged by a squall precipitated by some sort of undersea earthquake or volcano. While making repairs, the crew witness a giant sea creature attacking the villagers. After a pitched battle, the creature is driven back into the ocean. For some reason Joe Ryan, the captain of the salvage vessel, and the First Mate, Sam Slade, decide that this creature may be worth capturing. This is the first bad idea of the movie, and like all those Japanese monster movies, there is an annoying child around who warns the ambitious captain to leave the creature alone.

Long time ago, said the fine old woman

Long time ago, this proud old woman did say

There was war and death, plundering and pillage

My children starved, by mountain, valley and sea

And their wailing cries, they shook the very heavens

My four green fields ran red with their blood, said she

The salvage crew captures the sea creature in a sequence which defies logic. When the Irish government finds out about it, they send a couple of experts from a Dublin university to claim it and take it to be studied. Our salvage crew decides to follow the money and instead take an offer to display it at a carnival located in London. This makes perfect sense to me, as I don't know of any famous buildings in Dublin which could be destroyed by a rampaging monster. London, on the other hand, has a lot of cool tourist sites.

The annoying child stows away on the boat and tries to free the creature. When he is unsuccessful, he once again warns Joe and Sam about the danger they face taking this creature away from his home. Of course they ignore him.

Anyways, the creature is delivered to the carnival with a few of the crew of the ship getting killed in the process. This doesn't seem to bother Joe, but Sam begins to have second thoughts about what they have done. They also are responsible for the welfare of that annoying child, who was actually an orphan. It is almost like a foreshadowing of the TV series Two and a Half Men.

At this point, Joe and Sam are informed by some British paleontologists that the creature they captured is probably not full grown. And, to paraphrase one of the scientists, where there are infants, there are usually parents....

Reflections on Gorgo

What follows may be considered SPOILERS. You have been warned.

What have I now, said the fine old woman

What have I now, this proud old woman did say

I have four green fields, one of them's in bondage

In stranger's hands, that tried to take it from me

But my sons had sons, as brave as were their fathers
My fourth green field shall bloom once again, said she. 

So, two thoughts came to me as I watched this movie. First of all, the mother monster behaves just like any creature with a maternal instinct. She goes and retrieves her cute little hideous baby monster, defying all that the British Army, Navy, and Air Force can throw at her. When she finds her child, she turns around and, ignoring all of London which has not been devastated, swims back to her undersea lair.

I initially took this as a metaphor for Ireland fighting for her independence from England, where the monster just wanted to get her 'fourth green field' back. In this case the monster child is the last county still 'in bondage,' under the control of England. I guess this was still an issue in 1960; I know that as late as the 1970's there were folks in the United States who were raising money for the Irish Republican Army. At the time of release of this movie, this seemed like a plausible metaphor for the movie: the British steal something from Ireland, and Ireland goes and retrieves it.

With the current situation in Europe and Ireland, I have a little different take on this movie. Perhaps the baby monster represents Ireland - and Europe too - being stolen away from its Christian roots in favor of a materialistic society. Throughout the movie, money is the only thing which motivates Joe and Sam. Warnings from the innocent - but still annoying - child are ignored. The deaths of many islanders and sailors do not deter them from bringing Gorgo to the financial center of one of the world's former great powers. And finally, all of the weapons that man can muster are unable to defeat the creature- a creature which only takes that which is rightfully hers. In a strange way justice prevails, and the constructs of man are left in ruins. Ireland is returned to the bosom of Holy Mother Church, we hope.

Or maybe, like the song says, "History shows again and again how nature points out the folly of man."

Postscript: What does Samuel Beckett have to do with this movie?

I didn't buy this movie; nor did I get a free copy in exchange for this review. No, I watched it on YouTube while walking on the treadmill. Just to make matters more complicated, I actually watched the Mystery Science Theater 3000 version of the movie, which featured Mike Nelson and the Robots making sarcastic comments throughout. One of the more esoteric references made by the 'Bots was how one of the characters looked like the Irish poet Samuel Beckett. For the remainder of that characters 'life' on screen, references were made to several works by Mr. Beckett. One of the more famous of his works was an absurdist play called Waiting for Godot, which has been the subject of much speculation and controversy ever since its appearance in 1953. The play is about two characters waiting for another character named Godot, who never does arrive.

MST 3K did their own version of this play in one of their skits between commercial and movie:

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If you like movie reviews and want to read some really good ones which usually tie in to the Faith, I recommend you look at the B-Movie Catechism. This blog really does an excellent job and was my inspiration for writing this review.

Another Coffee Comment

2012-01-06T18:05:00.000-06:00

Caribou Decaf Blend was good. But then, name one thing associated with a Caribou which is not good.

There were a few cups which misbehaved, giving me an espresso-sized cup rather than the big gulp I had ordered. That seems to be par for the course.

Anyways, the coffee taste was good, and it will go on the 'buy again' list.

Now, for those of you who are afraid of heights, watch this. It almost makes me want to try skydiving:

I suspect it did not land well.

Memories of St. Sylvester's Feast Day

2011-12-31T11:23:00.000-06:00

In Switzerland, St. Sylvester's Feast Day was known as Sylvestertag. One can read about the life of Pope St. Sylvester in other places; here I shall relate the how the Swiss observed the celebration of Sylvestertag. In particular, I shall relate how my brothers and I celebrated it while we were living in Switzerland 'way back in 1972. At that time, we were living in a small village called Dürnten, located in the Canton of Zürich. Cantons are sort of like states in the U.S., only that Switzerland is closer to the size of some of our states.....

I did find a reference which almost matched what we did. One thing which I can't reconcile is that I thought that we celebrated Sylvestertag before Christmas rather than after. Either way, it was quite an interesting activity for an eight year old boy:

Since Silvester Abend, or “Sylvester’s Eve,” is also New Year’s Eve, many Germans and Austrians hold late-night parties. In Germany these festive gatherings may include drinking, eating, dancing, singing, and fortune-telling.

The only thing I don't recall seeing was fortune-telling. This party started out in the wee hours of the morning, and ended up at the village school. We attended the local public school, but there were no problems with having a 'Christian' celebration on the premises. Read on:

In at least one Swiss town—Urnäsch in Appenzell Canton—bands of 'mummers' known as “Silvesterclausen” still parade through the streets in costumes, bells, and headdresses on December 31, as well as on St. Sylvester’s Day Old Style, which falls on January 13. They visit homes, yodel three times, and are rewarded with wine by the occupants.

That's what I recall, with some modifications. I remember getting up in the early hours of the morning, maybe around 2 a.m., and joining up with my classmates as we went through the village making noise. We did more than yodel; people were banging on drums and using cowbells to wake up the occupants of the village. When I say cowbells I am referring to the huge Swiss cowbells, rather than the puny cowbell used in the infamous 'more cowbell' skit. Here is a selection of Swiss cowbells; we were using the larger ones:

Another difference is the whole issue of wine. Most of the children already had wine to drink as they made their way toward the school; most of them were also smoking. This was the most bizarre part of the festivities, even if all my classmates were two years older than me. Our parents forbade us to smoke or drink while we were out that morning. They wanted us to try smoking and drinking alcohol under controlled conditions where they could be present. More on that later.

Even better than wine were the little treats and cakes which we got from the homes. I don't recall what they looked like, but this is the best image I could find when I googled images of Sylvestertag. It looks like a half-eaten donut:

Around daybreak, we arrived at the school, where my classmates performed skits and played music for our entertainment. It is the only time that I really enjoyed accordion music.

Several days later, at home, our parents let us try smoking cigarettes. They gave us four boys a pack of cigarettes and let us try them. I didn't like it, probably because I was inhaling. Ever since then, I have had an aversion to smoking. I have only smoked a few cigars since then; the most memorable one was a Cuban cigar which I tried while on temporary duty in El Salvador back in 1998.

Then a few days after trying smoking, our parents allowed us to try drinking alcohol. Vermouth. We diluted it with ginger ale, or some kind of lemon-lime soda, but I still recall it as being nasty.

Sylvestertag was one of many adventures we had while living in Switzerland. While it was one of the more bizarre things we saw while living there, it still was great to see how other cultures live and celebrate.

Me, Francis, Fr. Denis, and Matthew. Patrick was to arrive five years after this picture was taken.

Blessing of Wine on the Feast of St. John, Apostle and Evangelist

2011-12-27T21:13:00.000-06:00

Blessing of Wine on the Feast of St. John, Apostle and Evangelist

Christmas Sunday Obligation to Attend Mass Abrogated

2011-12-24T01:32:00.001-06:00

(Zeeeeenit) In a move that surprises no one, the United States Conference of Clandestine Catholic Bishops (USCCCB) has determined that since Christmas falls on a Sunday this year, members of the Catholic Church do not have to attend Mass on that day.

For the past several years, the USCCCB has abrogated, or eliminated, the obligation to attend Mass on Holy Days when that Holy Day falls on either a Saturday or a Monday. In the case of the Feast of the Ascension, or Ascension Thursday, observance of that Holy Day has been moved to the following Sunday in most diocese in the United States. Some say that the elimination of the obligation to attend Mass on Christmas when it falls on a Sunday is just the next logical step for American Catholics.

Our source for this story, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, stated that this would open up the opportunities for Catholics everywhere to enjoy the day more, without having to get dressed up and leave all the presents behind for a while.

"Christmas is a busy day," our source said, "and there are a lot of things to do that day, like opening presents, watching football games, and going to movies which open on Christmas Day. Think of the kitchen fires which could be avoided by keeping the whole family home while Christmas dinner is cooking.

"We at the USCCCB are making this decision for the good of the Church; I mean, heaven forbid you should have to go to Church more than once a week!"

We are trying to verify this story. Due to the immediate ramifications of this pronouncement, we decided to go ahead and publish it beforehand without verification. The only source we have discovered which refers to this issue is at this website.

The Holy Days of Obligation as observed in the United States are:

For those of you who have read this far, of course this just a joke. There is no USCCCB as far as I know, and yes, you do have to go to Mass this Sunday. Merry Christmas!

Cattle Fever Hits the Homestead

2011-12-22T01:00:00.001-06:00

Last weekend we were invaded by eight Angus cattle from the neighboring piece of property. They came over the fence sometime during the night, and so we all woke up to a small herd of cows on the back six acres. We were all excited; since the cows weren't bothering anyone, and they were confined to the back property, I did not do anything about them.

Here is a picture of the cows when we first noticed them:

I zoomed in on the cows with my iPhone. Just like a box camera, the sky is whited out and the cows show up as little black silhouettes. The grass looks brown from here, but as you will see later, the grass truly was greener on our side of the fence.

They roamed all over the back property; at times we could barely see them as they disappeared into the tall grass along the eastern fence line. That is where there are a lot of bushes and trees which provided shade for the herd which occupied our land before we bought it.

In the afternoon, I started to think that these poor little cows were wandering around with no water to drink. I called the neighbor and told him that his cows were visiting. While I had him on the phone, I asked him a lot of questions about raising the cattle. I was already beginning to imagine my own little herd on my back property.......

He came over a few minutes after we got off the phone and led them back onto his property. At first he whistled to them, and they all ran to where he was. He tried to lead them, but our children kept on moving about, which seemed to confuse them and make them stop. Our neighbor then got a feed bag (maybe Purina Cow Chow?) which really got the interest of the cows again. They responded quickly to the sound of the bag being shaken.

I ordered my children to stop moving around, and the cows left without incident. Well, actually one of my children was heartbroken when he saw them leave:

Sure enough, the cows returned after a brief time. They really were interested in the fresh green grass on our land, and this time they had just pushed over another part of the fence. Our neighbor told me that we needed to put a string of barbed wire along the top of the fence line so that they would feel that when they started to push over the fence.

I walked along the property line, inspecting the barbed wire and the T-posts. I noticed right away that the majority of the posts were loose, and when I wiggled them it sounded as if they were sloshing around in mud. I surmised that the summer's drought had made the clay-filled soil pull away from the posts, and that the recent rain had softened up whatever was hold the posts in position. The cows took advantage of this, pushing over the fence without bending the posts. Unfortunately, the fence was not low enough to allow them to return to their land.

Another interesting thing about this incident was that, true to the herd instinct, once one cow went over the fence, they all followed.

Here the cows strike the usual pose of a cow. They always look as if they were caught off guard, and to me they always look as if they were a bit embarrassed, with almost a 'sheepish' look on their faces.

These cows ate grass, made fairly good sized cuts into the topsoil, and left some fertilizer in lieu of compensation for our troubles.

Our neighbor plans on breeding the cows. His little herd consisted of two bulls, five heifers, and one little steer. I told him I would love to help deliver any calves; it has been more than 20 years since I delivered a baby...........

Here is the video of the children and I moving among the cows. They were very well behaved, probably because the bulls weren't trying to pursue the heifers, and there were no calves around needing to be protected. I shall have to warn the children about how things may change shortly.

Back to the video:

Bernard has no fear. Scary.

I left the cows alone that night. The next day, Sunday, after morning Mass, I went out and led them back to our neighbor's land. It really got me excited about getting some cattle of our own. But first, I would have to reinforce my fence and set up a watering system for them.

All of this after I set up the chicken coop and range.

We Try Indian Food

2011-12-20T20:28:00.000-06:00

I have wanted to take Carolyn out to an Indian restaurant for a while. I have only been once before, but I found the food to be excellent.

It was while I was visiting my brother the Priest at his parish in Alexandria, Virginia. Nathaniel, my then-16 year old son was on this trip with me, and for dinner we joined my brother and some of his brother priests at The Bombay Curry Company. We told the waiter that we had never eaten Indian food before, and so the good folks there picked the menu for us that night.

The food was great, the company was excellent; it made a lasting impression on Nathaniel and me. The food was spectacular, and we discovered something called Na'an bread, which is like a thick tortilla shell for all the people reading this back home in northern Mexico. Each entree was delicious, and we used the generous supply of Na'an bread to clean our plates.

In addition to the food, we had the pleasure of hanging out with a bunch of good priests who spent the time talking of theology, the challenges of running a parish, and basically the nuts and bolts of being a Catholic priest. It was neat to hear priests 'talking shop' as they related some of the mundane tasks which they have to conduct while still being an alter christus for their parishioners.

So, almost two years after that trip, I finally decided that if I could not get to an Indian restaurant, I would at least try to bring the food home for all of my family to try. I went to the best place I could think of in order to purchase the most authentic Indian cuisine we could make at home. I went to Target.

That is not pronounced, Tar-get, as in 'road tar' and 'get out of my way.' No, the 'g' is softer, sounding more like the 'j' in the word 'Jaguar' as in 'I'll take the silver Jaguar for my birthday, love.'

Say it with me: Tar-jay.

So there, nestled in with the Mexican foods section were some boxes of containing a side dish, a sauce, some basmati rice, and chutney.

Tikka Masala: "a creamy tomato sauce, basmati rice with spiced potato curry and mango chutney:"

Red Garlic Curry: "tomato-garlic curry sauce, basmati rice, with tender green lentil stew and mango chutney." The lentils were really tender; whenever I make lentils, they are either still hard or have turned to mush.

Vindaloo: "spicy onion-ginger curry sauce, basmati rice with spicy potato, peas saute and - you guessed it - mango chutney:"

I knew that some of the children would not try much of this foreign food, so I made the food up with some chicken to go along as the main dish. I made the rice which came in the boxes, adding a little butter and some Chicken/tomato bullion for flavoring. Genevieve, my oldest daughter at home, cooked the chicken. She put curry powder on some of it, and I put a sweet pepper glaze on the rest of it.

To cover our gastronomical backs even more, we purchased some Na'an bread from that other source of Indian food in our neighborhood - Costco. One of my sons saw it in the store last week, and so we checked to make sure they still had it. Thankfully they still had enough for our family. It appeared as if we would have enough food to satisfy my little army, and let them try something new and different.

After looking over the directions, and finding there were no ugly surprises (such as, "soak beans in goat milk for 24 hours before cooking"), I noticed that most of the sauces, curries, and side dishes needed only a little time in the microwave to prepare them. So while the chicken cooked and the water and rice started to heat up, I poured each part of the meal into a separate bowl and covered them with saran wrap.

Sauces were in green bowls, and side dishes were in blue bowls. The diet Coke was mine and I don't know why the apple sauce insisted on getting into the picture. The Na'an bread is in the background, waiting to hop into the oven for a little warming up.

I used both microwave ovens to heat the bowls up really quickly, and then had it all set on the sideboard. Here, Nathaniel makes a plate. He approved of the meal.

Even Bernard liked it, even though my iPhone camera did not focus on him for some reason.

As I expected, there were some children who did not like it. Some children preferred one dish over another, while a few like Nathaniel and I like everything. The good thing is that they all tried a little bit, and they all got enough chicken and rice to leave the table satisfied.

Of course, everyone loved the Na'an bread.

Reasons to NOT Homeschool

2011-12-13T10:46:00.000-06:00

Here is a link to an article which asked children what they thought about being homeschooled.

Yes, it's dated a bit. But it is still worth reading. Some of the more choice comments included such gems as:

"In my opinion, i would never turn to home schooling. When you are home schooled, you automaticly loose the whole social experience of school. In the real world you need to be social. Otherwise you’re going to get know where. I understand that the learning education might be to an advantage while homeschooling because its all one on one and you are the only student reciveing all the help you need whenever you need it. I would never home school my child because I would be holding them back from friends and the social life they will need in the feature. I would never even consider home schooling. "

"I would never want to be home schooled because you are not able to socalize with your friends at school. If you dont meet or talk to anyone, people might start to make fun of you because you have no friends that hang out with you. You might be smarter if you are home schooled but you still will not know how to make good friends if you get accepted into a college where you are met with other kids. If your are home schooled and you go to college you will fell as if the class is going too slow or if you know something before other kids then you will be frusterated that you are learning the same thing and nothing new. Overall I think that home schooling is not something that you should consider because you are not social with other kids, and later on in college you will not learn as much as you should be learning."

Ah, yes. The social life. A social life where every other confounded word is just another confounded word which can be confoundedly used as either a confounded adverb or a confounded adjective depending on what kind of confounded thing you are trying to say. No confounded thanks, I say.

Granted, home schooling is not for everyone, but ultimately the parents are responsible for assuring that their children are educated in the Faith as well as the basics of Readin' Writin' and 'Rithmetic.

A New Blog

2011-12-10T12:19:00.001-06:00

I made a blog just to compile my book reviews. I shall populate it with my book reviews over time. I shall also keep posting book reviews here.

Why the redundancy? Just because I can, I guess.

Have a blessed Advent.

Oh yes. Here is the blog name and a link:

Praise Of This Book

The title is from The Path to Rome, by Hillaire Belloc. He titled the forward 'Praise of this Book,' and started it out with this greeting:

"To every honest reader that may purchase, hire, or receive this book, and to the reviewers also (to whom it is of triple profit), greeting--and whatever else can be had for nothing."

I hope you like it.

Book Review: Sensitive Sam

2011-12-09T18:20:00.001-06:00

Sensitive Sam

Marla Roth-Fisch

2009
Future Horizons, Inc.

Sensitive Sam is a cute little book about a little boy with Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD). Every page consists of a quatrain describing events in the life of a child who is having trouble dealing with things which don't bother most people. Mrs. Roth-Fisch completes the book with her excellent illustrations of Sam as he deals with dressing, eating, and going to school. Sam begins working with an occupational therapist, and with some changes in his routine at home and school, he is soon learning to grow and learn in school.

This book is excellent on several levels. First, it could help the child with SPD see that others have the same challenges, and that they can be overcome. Second, this book could help explain to other children in Sam's family - or class - what SPD is, and how they could help their sibling or friend. This book will help all children understand that SPD should not be frightening, and that it is treatable with a bit of work, and a lot of love.

This book reminded me of some of the issues we had with Theodore, such as his preference for only wearing short pants. This was not a big problem when we lived in San Antonio, and while he was young, but after moving up to the Dallas/Fort Worth area it took a while to get him accustomed to wearing long pants. He also had a lot of food preferences; vegetables were a challenge for him, and he ate ketchup with just about everything. Just like Sam, Theodore managed with a lot of patience and love - especially from Carolyn.

The end of the book has a glossary and a list of websites for those interested in reading more about Sensory Processing Disorder. I recommend this book without reservation for those families with a child with SPD, and also for grade schools.

Stephen M. Donahue
December 9, 2011

Politically Charged Time-Out

2011-12-09T16:23:00.001-06:00

An old Air Force friend sent me this a while ago. I just read it, and thought you might like it. It is called 'Ode to the Welfare State,' and it is best read by clicking on the picture to embiggen it:

Sigh. Things haven't changed that much.....

Coffee Update

2011-12-04T16:31:00.000-06:00

Tully's Coffee Decaffeinated House Blend Extra Bold was excellent. I did have some problems where the coffee would clog up the process and then flow out from the whole brewer, but Keurig sent me some new coffee shots and the problem resolved.

On Friday, I had to drive somewhere post-call, so I made a cup of coffee in one of our cardboard 'to go' cups. I specifically bought those cups - going against my Completely Green Policy - because all our travel mugs leak coffee like an overloaded diaper. So I was extremely disappointed when the lid worked its way off and dumped coffee all down the front of me.

Fortunately, there was a nearby discount department store near our first errand, so I went in and bought a new shirt - along with a tie, handkerchief, and cuff links. I switched shirts and a bathroom, rinsed out the stain in the dirty shirt, and was a new man when I picked up Carolyn a bit later.

Anyways, I shall add Tully's to the list of Keurig coffee cups I would buy again.

St. Nicholas Day Party

2011-12-03T22:45:00.000-06:00

We went to the St. Nicholas Feast Day Party at Mater Dei Catholic Church in Irving today.

We put together some food and some ornaments that the children made, and got a table to sell our wares. At first, business was slow. I thought it was because of the economy, and people were inclined to watch their money a bit closer. I also thought they may have been worried about the local version of 'Occupy Wall Street' might drop in to protest the corporate greed of the family-based Catholic entrepreneur. All I need is to have 'Occupy Mater Dei' show up and insist that we distribute the goodies we made for free to all the people who can't find a job.

Thankfully that did not happen, and after a while we started selling. I think people took a look at everything before deciding on purchases. We had a near monopoly on food, so things went well. For a time, the homemade 'sleighs' were literally FLYING off the table.

Here Zelie takes a break in the action to wolf down a sandwich before the next onslaught of consumers:

We sold candied pecans - not our own pecans, sadly - and brownies, cookies, banana bread, and blueberry muffins. We sold two types of Christmas ornaments: some were plastic ones where you bake them in the oven to fill the colors of the ornaments. The others were made with barbed wire from our property, shaped like Texas, and then backed with felt pieces that resembled the Texas flag. Here is an example:

But the biggest sellers were our sleighs, made with small candy canes, KitKat candy bars, and either a little box of Nerds or Junior Mints. With little bit of ribbon and tape, we made them into the shape of a sled, or sleigh:

The kids covered the Nerds or Junior Mints with aluminum foil. As I said, these treats literally flew off the table.

There were craft projects for the children to do, and a little train which rode around in the parking lot. The rain put a damper on the outside activities right around the time that the inside show started. Here Bernard, held by his Godfather Nathaniel, watches a puppet show featuring large mice and a nun that sings. He was fascinated by it.

The final part of the show was when St. Nicholas showed up. Here he is, exhorting the children to be good:

Here are three of the children ZelieLouisa, Maximilian, and Marcellinus watching St. Nicholas, looking a bit bored.

I missed them greeting St. Nicholas, so I had them come back up for a picture. This was really inconvenient for Max, so this is as close to a smile as I could get.

The man who portrayed St. Nicholas, the German dancers, the puppeteers, all made it a wonderful day for the children. Well done!

Seventeen Years Gone

2011-12-01T00:52:00.001-06:00

I wrote about this subject before.

Seventeen years ago, three of my colleagues and friends died in a helicopter crash in Ann Arbor, Michigan. They were the crew of an air ambulance, a helicopter, which was headed out to pick up a critically ill patient.

This was the moonlighting job I had while I was in residency and fellowship. Most of our transports were for cardiac patients, folks who had recently suffered a heart attack and were being moved to a hospital where there was a cardiac catheterization lab, or failing that, a cardiac surgeon. This was pretty routine for us. The rest of the transports were 'out in the field,' and could be anything: motor vehicle accidents, gunshot wounds, whatever. These were far more exciting, because you never knew what was waiting for you when you hopped out of the helicopter while the blades were still spinning above your head and you tried to anticipate what you would find when you did reach the patient. I like to think of those transports as if I were reaching into a box of Cracker Jack: sometimes I got the cheap stickers, but every now and then I would pull out something really exciting.

I was scheduled to fly the day after the helicopter crashed, so I thank God I was spared, allowed to go on caring for my wife and children and my patients.

I recall the local newspaper published a picture of one of the dead being lifted out of the aircraft in a body bag. Sic transit gloria mundi.

Here is the kind of helicopter I used to fly in. This is one outfitted for flight in Switzerland:

Months after the accident, while working a shift at this moonlighting job, I came across a passage in Wind, Sand and Stars, a book by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. It was about the loss of one of Saint-Exupery's friends, a colleague and a fellow pilot. He writes:

Bit by bit, nevertheless, it comes over us that we shall never again hear the laughter of our friend, that this one garden is forever locked against us. And at that moment begins our true mourning, which, though it may not be rending, is yet a little bitter. For nothing, in truth, can replace that companion. Old friends cannot be created out of hand. Nothing can match the treasure of common memories, of trials endured together, of quarrels and reconciliations and generous emotions. It is idle, having planted an acorn in the morning, to expect that afternoon to sit in the shade of the oak.

So life goes on. For years we plant the seed, we feel ourselves rich; and then come other years when time does its work and our plantation is made sparse and thin. One by one, our comrades slip away, deprive us of their shade.

There is more to what he says, but I invite you to read it yourself. Upon re-reading this passage tonight, it appears that human relations were the most important thing for Saint-Exupery. I would have to disagree; I would put our relationship with God to be far more important. If one loves God, then it makes it easier to love one another. If we are alone in this world and yet have the love of God, then we find that we need nothing more.

Antoine de Saint-Exupery was not perfect, but I always remember in his book The Little Prince how he would test every friend with a picture he drew when he was a child. He used it to see who his true friends were by how they would respond to the picture. In the same way, our son Theodore was sort of a litmus test for determining who was a true friend. Like Saint-Exupery, we are deprived of Theodore's company and shade in our garden.

Please, in your mercy, remember to pray today for the repose of the souls of Richard Elliott, Janice Nowacki-Tobin, and Terry Racicot.

Eternal rest grant unto them, oh Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon them. May their souls, and all the souls of the Faithful Departed, rest in peace.

St. Andrew Christmas Novena Prayer to Obtain Favors

2011-11-30T15:35:00.000-06:00

Rather than rewriting this, I just copied it from previous years. I am not sure why I included book reviews along with this prayer last year, though.

St. Andrew Christmas Novena Prayer to Obtain Favors

Hail and blessed be the hour and moment in which the Son of God was born of the most pure Virgin Mary, at midnight, in Bethlehem, in piercing cold. In that hour, vouchsafe, O my God! to hear my prayer and grant my desires, through the merits of Our Saviour Jesus Christ, and of His Blessed Mother. Amen.

(It is piously believed that whoever recites the above prayer fifteen times a day from the feast of St. Andrew (30th November) until Christmas will obtain what is asked.)

Imprimatur

+MICHAEL AUGUSTINE, Archbishop of New York
New York, February 6, 1897

Book review: Catholicism: A Journey to the Heart of the Faith

2011-11-29T12:57:00.002-06:00

Catholicism: A Journey to the Heart of the Faith
Robert Barron

DISCLAIMER: THIS BOOK WAS RECEIVED AS PART OF THE LibraryThing.com EARLY REVIEWERS PROGRAM. I RECEIVED THIS BOOK FREE OF CHARGE, WITH THE ONLY STIPULATION THAT I PUBLISH A REVIEW OF THE BOOK.

This review will satisfy my part of the agreement.

In his book, Catholicism: A Journey to the Heart of the Faith, Fr. Robert Barron relates how Thomas Merton - before his conversion - responded when he discovered that the book he just bought had the words Imprimatur and Imprimi potest printed in the frontispiece. Briefly, these words indicate that the work had been examined by the Catholic Church and had received approval for publication by it. Only a Catholic book would have such a thing in it; in this case, the book was The Spirit of Medieval Philosophy, by Etienne Gilson.

He was tempted to throw the book out the window.

It appears that Thomas Merton and I have more than just our Faith in common; we also appreciate the significance of words like Imprimatur, or Imprimi potest at the start of a book. Therefore I was rather disappointed when I noticed that Fr. Barron’s book didn’t contain either one, or any other kind of approval from the Church other than the glowing reviews on the back of the dust jacket. Strike One against the book. This means that there may be some things in the book which may not pass the orthodoxy test, so I proceeded with caution as I read through the book.

I also am suspicious of writers who do not include their credentials prominently, especially if they are writing in their area of expertise. It shows a lack of professionalism, or perhaps they don’t want to be seen as having some authority on the subject. I can think of one reason a writer may want to do this, and it has to do with the audience they are writing to. Still, I don’t like it. I let my patients know I am a doctor when I am caring for them; likewise, a priest should not hide his profession while working to bring souls to Christ. Strike Two against the book.

It wasn’t long before something jumped out of the book that seemed a bit unorthodox. In his discussion of the Beatitudes, Fr. Barron quotes the Gospel of Matthew:

"Blessed are the clean of heart, for they will see God" (Mt 5:8)

Amen. And then Fr. Barron explained this passage with this sentence:

"This means that you will be happy if there is no ambiguity in your heart (the deepest center of the self) about what is most important."

This was truly a ‘What The Heck?’ moment for me when I read this sentence. There was no mention of the concept of purity, chastity, or having a soul free of sin. Instead, the words of Christ are interpreted to mean that being true to one’s goals or desires - whatever they may be - is what is most important. At least Fr. Barron had the intellectual honesty to avoid using the word ‘happy,’ or seeing God in his description; he must have known at the time that he was writing off the map. Just to make sure that I was not current with any new interpretation of the Scriptures, I ran this passage of the book by a couple of priests I know, and they both separately expressed surprise and horror about such a misrepresentation.

At this point I had to stop reading the book and try to figure out what Fr. Barron’s purpose was in writing this book. I continued reading, and started noticing that a sizeable number of authors quoted by Fr. Barron were not Catholic. Granted, he did quote Catholics throughout the book, but it seemed as if the number of Protestants cited was a bit excessive for a book on the Catholic Church. At this point I started to wonder if the audience for this book was not for Catholics; in other words, that this book was really intended to be part of the ‘New Evangelization’ George Weigel mentioned on the back of my book’s dust cover. Perhaps this is so, but it is disappointing that it contains erroneous teachings of the Church like the example mentioned above.

There were some good parts of this book. Fr. Barron writes very well about the saints. His short biographies on St. Katharine Drexel and St. Edith Stein were inspiring, as was her description of Blessed Teresa of Calcutta. For me, this one brought back memories of how I had met Mother Teresa twenty-five years ago in Washington, DC. In addition, the book is full of pictures of religious artwork which are related to the subject matter. Catholic art is the best kind in the world, and Fr. Barron truly showcases this aspect of our Faith.

But then he had to spoil it all by writing about Thomas Merton. I know a little bit about Thomas Merton; my first letter to the editor of a major newspaper was about him. I spent some time looking up more information online, and I even downloaded a lecture by Alice von Hildebrand called ‘The Tragedy of Thomas Merton.’ In that speech, she related how he did not follow the Benedictine Rule, how he essentially left the Trappist monastery, and how he died alone, far from the benefits of the Last Rites, after giving a speech which equated Communism with the Monastic way of life. After listening to von Hildebrand’s lecture, and reading other information about him, I would say that Fr. Barron picked a poor example for prayer and the contemplative life when he selected Thomas Merton.

In general, this book had a few good parts; namely, the lives of the saints and the pictures included in the text. Fr. Barron is a good story teller, and he writes well enough to touch even the heart of this skeptical reader. But these good aspects do not outweigh the fact that he probably could not get approval from the Diocesan Censor or the Bishop after writing such poor theology as the example mentioned above. Perhaps this book is really just intended to attract our Separated Brethren back to the Church. It is unfortunate that such a writer could not make this book as theologically sound as it is attractive.

Postscript: Here is a brief summary for the Latin terms I mentioned above. The link explains these terms in greater detail:

SUMMARY
Religious Superior's stamp:    IMPRIMI POTEST    "it can be printed"

Censor's stamp:           NIHIL OBSTAT    "nothing stands in the way"

Bishop's stamp:           IMPRIMATUR    "let it be printed"

from here: http://www.fisheaters.com/imprimatur.html

25 Years Ago This Month......

2011-11-29T01:50:00.000-06:00

I met Blessed Teresa of Calcutta in Washington, DC. I asked to pray for me since I had just been accepted to medical school.

Her sisters in Dallas are still praying for me.

Blessed Teresa, pray for us!

Book Review: A Love That Multiplies, by Michelle and Jim Bob Duggar

2011-11-14T14:54:00.002-06:00

A Love That Multiplies

By Michelle and Jim Bob Duggar

Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar announced last week that they are expecting their 20th child, so it seems like a good time to review their most recent book, A Love That Multiplies. In addition, Carolyn asked me to read it because she thought there were some things in it which we could find helpful in raising our medium-size family with only 12 children. No family is perfect, especially one with children at every level of development, so it is good to look around to see what other large families are doing to raise excellent children. The Duggars have a lot of good advice to give.

This book is written in the first person, and is evenly divided between Jim Bob and Michelle. Occasionally the other spouse will interject some comment, adding to the subject. The book indicates whenever the speaker changes by putting Jim Bob or Michelle's name in parentheses at the start of their part. Throughout the book, recipes from the Duggar household are featured along the margin. While I thought they were out of place in some of the more serious parts of the book, they did help to lighten up the material in the main part of the book.

One observation I have about the recipes is that the Duggar family must not have a problem with sodium or high blood pressure.

The book is divided into four main parts; each of these parts consist of several chapters. The first part describes many of the challenges surrounding the premature birth of their youngest daughter, Josie. The second part deals with sharing their faith with others - only in part through the show on The Learning Channel. They describe other ways that they evangelize; it was great to hear that they would not do the TV show unless their faith were included in it. The third section discusses the way that they are raising their children, and the last part deals with relationships, including a advice on courtship, managing teenagers, and purity.

Concerns about the Book:

Before discussing some of the salient points I took away from the book, I have to make some comments about this book which should be kept in mind. First, the Duggars have done rather well in their real estate business, with rental properties which provide income with variable effort on their part. Additionally, the TLC show pays them for each show. Both of these facts make it possible for Jim Bob to be around his family a lot more than most working fathers can be. This does not excuse other men from being involved in their children's lives, it just means that most fathers have to be sure to carve out whatever time they can to be there for their sons and daughters.

Another related item is that the Duggars go on more field trips and outings than any family I know. I suspect this is also related to the format of the TLC show. Certainly no one wants to watch a show featuring the Duggar children doing laundry, matching socks, and scrubbing the floors. In addition, any facility or project which hosts the Duggar family is getting a lot of free publicity, so they probably give a discount to the family. Frequent outings are wonderful, but not very practical for most other families.

One last concern I had with the book is that it appears that the Duggars did take their dedication to ministry a bit too far after the birth of Josie. While Josie was in the NICU, the Duggars moved temporarily to Little Rock, Arkansas in order to be together. They still had to manage their house and business in their home town, and they had some commitments to appear publicly as well. In addition, Michelle's father fell and broke his hip around that time, and Michelle was torn between being with her father and staying with her premature baby. When her father died, she was alone with Josie in Little Rock, while Jim Bob and the rest of the family were on a trip combining business and pleasure. At the point that Michelle gave birth to Josie, I think the family would have been better off to drop some of their commitments rather than be going in several directions while the youngest Duggar was in the NICU. This is just my opinion, but I think that marriage and family supersede all outside commitments; my place is with my wife first, and family second.

Things I liked about the Book:

There were many good points which were brought up in this book. One of the areas which struck me personally were the sections on anger management. Both Jim Bob and Michelle pointed out that a harsh, angry voice will only push children away from their parents. They described anger as forming a wall between parent and child. Some of their recommendations were for parents to practice voice control, and to be held accountable (to someone) when one loses his temper. None of this was new to me, but it always helps to have a good lesson reinforced from time to time.

Michelle Duggar wrote about relationships, reminding me of something I have yet to learn after more than 22 years of marriage. She described a familiar scenario, where she has had a stressful day full of challenges. At the end of the day, when her husband would come home, she would relate the troubles of the day to him. Here is where Jim Bob (and I) make the mistake: instead of listening and then consoling, reassuring, and encouraging our wives, we proceed to outline a solution for all the problems we just heard. This is the last thing a woman wants to hear. She already knows what the solution is, and doesn't need us to figure that out. What she needs is our support and encouragement. I still have trouble doing this, probably because the male brain is wired differently from the female brain; we see so many things in terms of what has to be done, while women are also concerned about the emotional aspect of things.

The Duggars have excellent advice on dating versus courtship, and the reason to save oneself - even kisses - until marriage. Their example of the bicycle intended for a birthday present which is used and abused by someone else beforehand is excellent, as is their practical, health-related argument for chastity. This chapter includes a great checklist of what a woman should - and should not - want in a future spouse. A lot of the things on the list apply to young men as well as women. The book ends with a list of references for further reading.

Other than the few objections mentioned above, I found this book to be an excellent and refreshing source of encouragement and inspiration for parents of a large family. I would recommend it to families of any size. The Duggars promote being open to life, allowing God to determine the size of your family - something I like to call Supernatural Family Planning - and in this book they have given excellent advice on how to raise up the children who have been given to you by Him.

Book Review: Band of Brothers, by Stephen E. Ambrose

2011-11-11T17:57:00.000-06:00

Today is a good day to publish a brief review of Stephen Ambrose's book, Band of Brothers.

I thought I would just mention a few things about the book that struck me when I read it. For a more thorough review, look somewhere else.

First of all, the title comes from Shakespeare's play Henry V, and I shall include the words and a stirring video of the lines from the 1989 movie of the same name.

Second, I read this book to make sure that the language and events were not inappropriate for one of my sons who wished to read it. With the exception of a section where the author discusses the vulgar language of the troops, there is very little that it offensive in this book.

Third, I was struck while reading this how these young men who did such gallant deeds in the 1940's are now the old men we see in hospitals, nursing homes, and on the city streets. It is sobering to think of their courage, the blessing of surviving the war, and yet the fact that death comes for them (and us all) eventually. As a friend of mine who practices geriatrics at the local Veteran's Administration hospital put it, "the World War II vets are dropping like flies." The main subject of the book, Major Dick Winters, died in January of this year.

Fourth, I finally realized a good reason for jumping out of a perfectly good airplane. In the book, Ambrose mentions how the airborne troops were a select group of soldiers, and that they were a cut above the regular Army inductee. As such, they were far more professional, driven, and competent, and made for a better unit when in combat. The alternative was to be stuck with all the soldiers who were not necessarily going to be there to fight well in battle.

Fifth, the Airborne troops were used for jumping ahead, or rather, behind enemy lines, and so they would not stay on the ground and follow the conflict as it progressed on land. In the case of the 101st Airborne, they were relieved after D-Day, sent back to England to re-group and get replacements, and then sent back to battle later. In the case of the 101st, several times they were training for a drop, but then the ground troops advanced past their target before they could join them.

Last and most surprising, was the revelation that the Americans felt that they had the most in common with the Germans. It made me wonder what would have happened if this fact were known before we got into the war. Perhaps it is a moot point, since the Japanese attacked us first, followed by the rest of the Axis countries declaring war on us; at that time, public sentiment probably did not care who had attacked us as long as someone paid for it.

I recommend this book without reservation. I know that there is some controversy surrounding the works of Stephen E. Ambrose, but this book still is a good read.

Now, a brief look at Henry V, and the St. Crispin's Day Speech which inspired the name of this book. Henry V made this speech to his men before the battle at Agincourt:

This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,

Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,

And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

He that shall live this day, and see old age,

Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,

And say, "To-morrow is Saint Crispian."

Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,

And say, "These wounds I had on Crispin's day."

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,

But he'll remember with advantages

What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,

Familiar in his mouth as household words,

Harry the King, Bedford, and Exeter,

Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,

Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.

This story shall the good man teach his son;

And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,

From this day to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be remembered-

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

For he to-day that sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,

This day shall gentle his condition:

And gentlemen in England now a-bed

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day."

Here is Kenneth Branagh as Henry V, giving his rendition of it from the 1989 movie:

Guess Who is Expecting!

2011-11-10T23:25:00.000-06:00

No. It is not us. We are still praying for more.

No, it's the Duggar Family who are expecting their 20th child! We rejoice with them and pray for a safe pregnancy and safe delivery for Michelle Duggar and her baby.

Now, in honor of this wonderful announcement, I wish to present a pilot of a little TV show I would like to call, Twelve Kids and Praying - For More.

It is modeled roughly on the Duggar's show on The Learning Channel.

Announcer: "This week, on Twelve Kids and Praying:"

Child's voice: "Daddy can't find the new Toll Tag for the new car, and he's really mad!"

Carolyn, wife of Steve-Man and mother of many: "Steve-Man had recently bought a new car, and he had ordered a toll tag so we could drive the car on the North Texas Tollway without having to pay with coins. We are always teaching our children to be good stewards of Creation, and using a toll tag instead of coins is one way we improve the world we live in."

Steve-Man, husband of Carolyn: "I left the toll tag and paperwork on my desk, and I noticed it was gone. The first toll tag is free, but a replacement tag costs a lot of money, so I really wanted it back. I recruited all the D- children to scour the house, looking for the missing toll tag."

Interviewer, off-screen, talking to two of the D- children: "Were you worried when your father said he could not find the toll tag?"

J'Marc (10 years old): "Um, no. He lost the toll tag? When?"

J'Max (8 years old): "It didn't bother me a bit."

Steve-Man: "I found the toll tag on the kitchen floor, but I noticed that the sticker was bent. I was wondering if the tag would still work."

Carolyn: "Steve-Man wondered if the toll tag would work, since it seemed as if it had a bend through the chip in the middle of the sticker. He found it on the floor of our kitchen which has two ovens, two dishwashers, and several refrigerators."

Shift to the outside, where Steve-Man and all the children are surrounding the new car. Steve-Man sits in the front seat, reading the directions on how to place the toll tag.

Carolyn: "Steve-Man is the most patient person I have ever met. He never loses his temper while he is onscreen. Now he has the challenge of putting the tag on the correct part of the windshield."

Steve-Man: "I was glad the instructions came in Spanish as well as English, so the children and I could practice a little bit of Spanish while I put the toll tag onto the windshield. I think we should try it out on the tollway to make sure it will work."

Carolyn: "Once again, Steve-Man came up with a way to make a good experience out of a crisis. After finding the toll tag on the kitchen floor, and seeing that it might have been bent out of shape, Steve-Man decided that the only way to know that the toll tag would work was to take the whole family on a short trip and try it out."

Steve-Man: "I thought it would be best to take the car, and all the children, and try it out on the tollway. While we were in North Dallas, I thought we could all go out to III Forks Restaurant. There the chef will teach us how to grill steaks on an open grill."

D- Children: "Yayyyyyyy!"

Announcer: "Next week, the D- family will turn the compost heap in the back yard! Guess what treasure they find beneath tons of dirt and mud! Stay tuned!"

And there you have it. Seriously, we are very happy for the blessings given to the Duggar family, and we pray for them - and their conversion to the One True Faith.

Veteran's Day, 2011

2011-11-10T01:51:00.000-06:00

It has been eleven years since I separated from the Air Force, and 24 years since I was commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant in the United States Air Force. The years have erased a lot of the feelings which I had while on active duty, especially the chafing awareness that I had given up my freedom while serving our country. Instead, most of the thoughts I have now are how blessed I was to serve in the military.

Here below is a picture from the Summer of 1988, when I got to take an 'incentive flight' in a jet trainer. More on incentive flights in a moment. Looking at this picture brings all the memories of that day back to me. I was scared, especially after being 'briefed' on how to operate the parachute strapped to my back if it did not automatically deploy. We also were shown how to use the heavy knife to break through the canopy in the event that became necessary. Then there is that little thing called acraphobia which I have. I went anyway, and had a wonderful time actually controlling this airplane under the watchful eye of a flying instructor's instructor.

On the flight out of San Antonio, I wished I still had that parachute.

Incentive flights were intended to attract physicians into Aerospace Medicine, which is a lot of primary care medicine combined with occupational medicine. The flying sounded like fun, and I was really excited to go on this little jaunt above San Antonio, but I couldn't get enthusiastic about doing family practice. My thoughts turned out to be fairly accurate, as I found out years later how Flight Surgeons would qualify for their flight pay if they were stationed at one of the bases in San Antonio: they would spend their required flying hours in the passenger seats of a C-5 as their pilots practiced a maneuver called a 'touch and go.' For those of you who don't know, touch and go is where the pilot comes in for a landing, briefly allowing the wheels to 'touch' the runway before roaring back into the air. That doesn't sound toooo bad, until you realize that the passenger seats in the C-5 are located behind the cockpit - on the top level, above the cargo bay - and they don't usually have all the creature comforts of commercial airliners. No air conditioned vent blowing on you from above, and no windows. Oh, and one more thing: usually the seats are all positioned so the passengers all face backward. So just imagine how comfortable it must be, flying in the low altitude hot air above San Antonio, while facing backwards in sweltering heat and lots of turbulence.

That is why this aircraft was smiling when I took its picture - also in 1988:

I took this picture while standing on the roof of a car we rented from a place in San Antonio called Chuck's Rent-A-Clunker. I was trying to eliminate all the barbed wire from the photograph.

I was in the Air Force for 13 years: nine years in the Inactive Reserves and four years active duty. I spent two weeks in El Salvador, anesthetizing children and adults for eye surgery as part of a humanitarian mission. I was never issued a weapon, although I had to qualify with a 9mm pistol as part of my training for mobilization. During my last year on active duty, I could not be farther than 50 miles from the base in the event I was deployed at a moment's notice.

A week after I separated from the Air Force, I had a medal delivered to my home. It was a commemoration for my service to our country. It got me thinking at the time, that all I ever did was wake up every day and go to work, caring for active duty personnel, retirees, dependents - especially the children - and any trauma victim who landed in our emergency room. For that, just doing my job, I got a medal.

For some veterans, just doing their job meant a lot more than selecting what uniform to wear today and then battling the early morning traffic to get to the base. For most, just doing their job meant putting their lives on the line for the good of all of us back home.

Please pray for those who never came back, or for those who came back scarred, damaged, forgotten. I have heard their cries in military and veteran's hospitals.

Eternal rest grant unto them, oh Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon them. May their souls, and all the souls of the Faithful Departed, rest in peace.

The Classical Week: Day #4

2011-10-05T23:44:00.001-05:00

Shortly after midnight we heard coyotes howling and yipping on the back part of our property. It sounded as if they were just outside the reach of the lights on the back of house, but sounds travel rather far around here. They were making enough noise that I was tempted to go out and fire an air rifle in their general direction, but they stopped before I could get up and grab one. I did wonder how the cattle on the lot next to us were handling it....

This was a quiet day, with classical music played for part of the day. None of the children ate one another, so I would chalk this up as a good day. Not a smoke plume in sight.

I spent a good part of the day dealing with family finances and drinking coffee.

I got one of them new-fangled Keurig coffee makers a few years back. The first time I saw one - either 2000 or 2001 - I fell in love with it. It was in the doctor's lounge of one of the hospitals in San Antonio which I rarely visited. I had a case in the late afternoon, and showed up early for a change. After changing into scrubs, I wandered into the lounge. Dessicated remains of a hot lunch sat in pans over still-burning sterno cans, and all I could find which looked palatable were some graham crackers and peanut butter samples located in a drawer marked 'Silverware.'

The counter next to the refrigerator was filled with the strangest machine I had ever seen. It was a Keurig coffee machine, one of the commercial ones which was connected to a water line. It came with a diagram of instructions and a whole bunch of little cups filled with pre-measured coffee grounds. By pulling a lever on the top, one could drop in one of these cups, close it, hit the 'Start' button, and watch a hot stream of coffee pour onto the counter almost immediately. I quickly found a cup and caught about half of the coffee and then cleaned up the mess I had made.

It was a really good cup of coffee. I was amazed at the variety of coffee types and flavors which were available. I also liked that I could make one cup of coffee at a time, since I was the only coffee drinker at that time. More than anything, I liked how putting the little coffee cup into the brewer was kind of like loading a shotgun. Someone who designed this had to have known how this would appeal to the gun nut inside of every male of the species.

Unfortunately, it was a few years before I bought one of these for home. I used it every day, and one day the control panel on it starting displaying the word 'Descale.' I got online and proceeded to de-scale it, using a lot of white vinegar. The smell was not too pleasant. After running a lot of water through it, I started using it again. Within a day it started to act up, and once again I was commanded to 'Descale.' I complied with the order, but the problem persisted. It started taking a lot longer than a minute to make a cup of coffee.

I called the service line at Keurig, and the folks there recommended I try some other things to verify that there wasn't some other obstruction in the brewer. After exhausting all their recommendations, they stated that I could receive a replacement brewer. Wow. Just like that, they sent me a replacement. You can see the old and the new one below; the new one is on the right.

I did have to return one part of the old one to show that I was not just cheating them out of a new coffee maker.

My children were surprised that the company would just send out a new machine. I explained to them that the money is not made in the machine but rather in the disposable parts which you have to purchase to use the machine. Just like in a lot of medical supplies, like an intravenous pump, one has to keep going back to the manufacturer to buy the tubing and other gizmos which only fit on that pump. Those little coffee thingies are just like the intravenous tubing. I pointed out that while the coffee maker costs about $100, I probably spend two or three times that much per year on the little coffee cups. The Keurig company could easily give out an occasional machine just to strengthen customer loyalty.

Of course, I did not start this blog entry to discuss coyotes, music, or economics. Instead I needed a convenient place to record they type of coffee I ordered, and to record my impression of them so I could get the same type when I order more.

Right now I am drinking Vermont Country Blend Decaf, by Green Mountain Coffee. It is good, not bitter, and can be drunk anytime with or without food.

Next up will be:

Tully's Decaf House Blend
Caribou Decaf Natural Blend
Timothy's Decaf Columbian
Green Mountain Decaf Breakfast Blend

Yes, all decaf. No more caffeine in my coffee, unless I want to see my heart explode. I used to be like this character, but not any more:

The Classical Week: Day #3

2011-10-04T23:17:00.001-05:00

All Smoke and No Music

Happy feast of St. Francis of Assisi!

When last we spoke, Waxahachie was burning. We spent the day driving from one place to another, completing various tasks and appointments scheduled for today. There was no classical music listened to during the day in the car; nor did the children at home listen to classical music.

We had a doctor's visit in Fort Worth in the morning, followed by a visit to the Apple Store in Dallas to figure out why one of the computers keeps signing out of whatever program the children are using. In the midst of work, the computer will suddenly tell them that the program 'had to end without warning.'

We are getting well known at the Apple Store; you know you have made it when the concierge at the door greets you by name......

During and after our time in the land of Apple, some of us ate Mexican food at a local Chuy's. All of the Apple employees were agitated in anticipation of the unveiling of the iPhone 4S, but I was out of there with a working computer within 30 minutes.

I spent the time it took to fix the computer building a car on the internet.

We went by a religious bookstore in Dallas to get some gifts for certain children who will be confirmed on Thursday. While I was there, I bought a copy of the video Of Gods and Men; I reviewed it here on the blog.

As per our routine, we spent too much money.

Next, we revisited the business where we saw the fire up close. The fire was still smoldering; even worse, it smelled as if it were July 5th in these parts, with the smell of incinerated fireworks permeating the atmosphere. Thankfully, the odor did not overcome the 'new car smell' that we were also experiencing.

Here is a shot from the same lot where we took pictures. The Environmental Protection Agency said everything was safe, but with the present administration in charge, why would one trust anything said by a federal agency?

It reminds me of two of the worse things one can hear:

One, "I am from the U.S. Government."

Two, "I am here to help you."

Run if you hear either of them.

I have taken quite a number of interesting pictures with my trusty iPhone. Around here, the weather has been particularly harsh on trees. If it is not the ice storms bringing them down, it is heavy winds or tornadoes. Take a look at the trunk on this tree:

I have seen some other fires as well, especially with the high temperatures and drought we had this summer. Here is a fire somewhere south of Fort Worth:

Here is another one, up in Grand Prairie:

All these fires around us - there was one bad one a few miles from our house - got me to thinking about how I would evacuate the family in the event of a grass fire. I recall reading about the Mann Gulch Fire up in Montana, and how a fire can spread so quickly when wind and other factors come into play.

Sobering thoughts. I'd rather think of music, but I shall provide a few more pictures for your consideration:

I believe 'Tweeting' is where one sends status updates to people so they can 'follow' what one is doing. I don't do Twitter because I am just not that interesting, nor inclined to tell everything I am doing all day long.

I took this picture at a hospital. It makes one think that one should saunter down the stairs and out the exit rather than bolting down the stairs and sprinting for the way out.

The Classical Week: Day #2

2011-10-03T22:28:00.000-05:00

What a Long, Strange Trip Today Has Been.

It started out okay, with me on vacation this week and a list of tasks and appointments to accomplish. First we began by taking some of the children to Mass; afterwards we had a bouquet of roses blessed in honor of St. Therese of Liseaux.

Then things got a little interesting. Our next stop was to a doctor's office in Fort Worth, and as we started driving there, we noticed this interesting cloud formation to the South/Southeast of us:

That's down where we live; we were about thirty miles from where we live when I snapped this picture. It was the only cloud in the sky, and I suddenly noticed that it extended all the way to the ground and was also projecting above the flattened top of the cloud. This was no ordinary cloud; it was the smoke from a fire. We called home and asked if they could see a fire or smoke, and the children at home reported seeing smoke in the distance to the Southeast of our house. We continued on our way, confident that we had seen the end of that.

Our visit to the doctor ended before it could even begin. The office building as well as all the other buildings on that block had a power outage while we waited to be seen. We decided to reschedule, and took off for our home. On the way, I persuaded my lovely wife to make a side trip to do a little 'window shopping' at a business down in Waxahachie - which just happens to be Southeast of our home.

As we started on our way, we noticed that the cloud had not dispersed; in fact, it appeared to be growing. After several close calls with grass fires on top of our drought and 100+ temperatures, we started to think that maybe this was more than just a 'normal' fire. Here is a picture we took from about 20 miles from the fire, as we unknowingly headed toward it:

Even the little Moose who lives in the front of the van seemed concerned. We did not know that the fire was very close to our destination in Waxahachie - nor did we know that people were being evacuated from the area because of concerns with the chemicals which were on fire. We did not have our radio on, as we were complying with our week-long experiment of only listening to classical music. We continued on, listening to Antonin Dvorak's Symphony No. 9, "From the New World," as we drew closer to the fire.

When we got to our destination, we were surprised that someone did not come out and greet us while we looked around the car lot. Our children who were with us noticed that the television was still on in the lobby, but no one was around. The place was deserted; this was extremely unusual for this kind of business.

We were about a half mile or less from the fire, and could see flames licking up out of the mass of confusion on the ground. To us, it appeared that a lot of the fire trucks were spraying the fire from too far away. Only later did we learn why they were doing that. After we finished our window shopping, we headed home. Upon our arrival, we found out that the area had been evacuated because of concerns for the chemicals burning and forming in the cloud above us. Great.

Then things got really exciting at home.

If you recall, this whole blog entry was to report on our classical music experiment. Well, the children at home reminded me that Fr. L- had said that the experiment required listening to Mozart continually, not just any classical music. Of course, we don't have a lot of Mozart, so that posed a problem. I argued that classical music was sufficient. The children then wanted to know what defines 'classical' music. They argued that Gregorian Chant was not classical; I argued that it was good enough and old enough to qualify as 'classical' music.

Next, I was presented with a piece which I recognized as being written by Andrew Lloyd Weber. I nixed it as being too modern. The same went for a classical music piece as played on an Electric Cello.

Music volume was then discussed. Some argued that it must be loud enough to hear it. I argued that it should be used as background music. Several countered that one could not hear it unless everyone remained silent, which was impossible in our house. I responded that playing classical music loud would make everyone raise his voice to be heard, resulting in a tremendous discordant cacophony. I could see where I could lose this argument, so I pre-emptively ended it by mentioning that what really bothered me was how nobody had gotten up to do their chores which were supposed to be completed by then.

I shall leave the conversation about what they play when they practice piano for another day.

Here is a video showing why the fire trucks were so far back from the fire:

The Classical Week: Day #1

2011-10-02T21:15:00.000-05:00

About a week ago, I attended a Parish Youth Group meeting where the pastor spoke about an experiment using classical music. In this experiment, Fr. L- claimed, classical music was piped into one chamber, while rock music was played in another chamber. Connecting these two boxes was a tunnel, and as soon as rock music started playing, all the mice (or was it rats?) would scurry off to the box featuring classical music. Padre mentioned other experiments, including one where the rock and roll groupies ate one another, but I shall not go into more of that kind of stuff.

What struck my children and I was one experiment where classical music was played as background music. It had a soothing effect on the people exposed to this music, and made their home a much nicer place to live. In short, music helped to form the culture of that family in a favorable way. So last night (Saturday) my children suddenly mentioned that they would like to take part in the experiment - starting the next day. That would be today.

Carolyn and I were very interested in participating in this experiment. We have noticed that the children who live at home have developed a hankering for both types of music - Country and Western - and some of it has caused us some concern. I even started listening to the lyrics and telling the children that some songs are not appropriate for their listening. Heck, a lot of it is not appropriate for my listening....

Our little unscientific experiment is not about lyrics. As Father L- said, never mind the lyrics. A lot of the music is detrimental on a more basic level. To paraphrase (badly) his thesis, one must consider how Man and Music have parallels in their construction. For Man, the Intellect informs the Will, which then directs the Body. This is how one attains an ordered life, where the Body is subject to the direction of the Intellect and Will. In Music, Melody creates Harmony, which then directs the Rhythm of the piece of music. This is how one attains an ordered piece of music, where the lower part is subject to the higher parts. Unfortunately rock music - and even most contemporary country music - put rhythm ahead of melody and harmony, creating disorder. When Man puts Body before Intellect and Will, an even greater disharmony occurs.

Our experiment will be to see if playing classical music rather than rock or country will help influence our family in a positive way, encouraging all of us to put Melody and Harmony, or Intellect and Will, ahead of Body and Rhythm.

So what's with the aircraft at the top of this blog? Well, during the Life Chain event at church this afternoon, one of these things flew over. I had never seen one in the air before, and it stopped me in the middle of an Ave Maria. I still need a lot of work when an airplane can distract me from my prayers.

For the next week, I shall make some comment on how this little experiment is going. Stay tuned!

And no, you can't follow me on Twitter!

A Personal(?) Message from the First Lady

2011-09-28T15:08:00.002-05:00

Friend --

Not everyone knows how to prepare for a dinner like this. As someone who's eaten countless meals with my husband, I want to tell you the one thing to do if you're selected to join him...

Just relax. Barack wants this dinner to be fun, and he really loves getting to know supporters like you.

I hope you'll take him up on it before Friday's deadline.

Will you donate just $3 today and be entered to have dinner with Barack?

These dinners mean a lot to Barack. They're a chance for him to talk with a few of the people who are driving the campaign -- and a chance for him to say thank you.

So come prepared to tell your story, and say whatever's on your mind.

Don't miss the opportunity to be there. Donate $3 or more today, before the September 30th deadline:

https://donate.barackobama.com/Dinner

Thanks,

Michelle

Contributions or gifts to Obama for America are not tax deductible

Lego and Hello Kitty: Part of a Conspiracy

2011-09-18T21:00:00.001-05:00

These are Lego brand 'Hello Kitty' toys which Zelie got for her birthday.

Until her birthday, I did not appreciate just how many things are made with 'Hello Kitty' branded on them.

Even this new addition to the Dallas skyline will surely have that little cat on it somewhere......

Modesty @ Mass

2011-09-16T21:09:00.000-05:00

Have you ever noticed how well some of our Separated Brethren dress when they attend their Sunday services?

It is time we Catholics follow suit. Check this out:

Hat tip to The Tucker Bunch at 'Just Another Day in Paradise.'

Fountain Pen Review: Eine Deutsche Füller

2011-09-11T21:52:00.001-05:00

Tonight we consider a German fountain pen, or in German, Füller, made by the Pelikan company. It is a neat little pen I bought at the Fountain Pen Hospital in New York. It is called a 'Demostrator' because one can see the inner workings of the pen from the outside.

Behold, the gold-plated fine point nib. That is my favorite type of nib for a fountain pen.

It is hard to see the innards
of this pen when I use this primitive iPhone camera, so I stood it up so one can see the ink in the chamber. The tail end of the pen spins to pull ink into the chamber.

One of my favorite parts of this pen is the cap, complete with the 'Pelikan' logo. I like it because the pelican is a symbol for Christ. In folklore, the pelican will take flesh from her own breast to feed her young. In like manner, Christ gave up His life for our salvation.

It is good to have little reminders of how much God loves us - even those on the end of a German pen.

To recap: The Pro's of this pen are the fine point, easy filling, and good feel in the hand. The only real Con is the screw on cap which takes a moment to remove before writing and can get misplaced.

Like all fountain pens, it rarely makes a good enough impression for duplicates like doctor order sheets or anesthetic records, so I carry around a ball point pen as well. It adds to the 'Geek' image I strive to achieve.

Book Review: Stanley Seagull, by Cathy Mazur

2011-09-07T21:55:00.000-05:00

Disclaimer: I received a free copy of this book as a PDF file from the publisher, and I am receiving no compensation for writing this review. I thoroughly enjoyed reviewing this book.

Stanley Seagull

by Cathy Mazur

illustrated by Colleen Gedrich

Tribute Books
2011

Kurt Vonnegut allegedly said that any story can be simplified to the point that it is just another version of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. It might take a while to figure it out, but all the basic elements can be rooted out of any composition consisting of complete sentences organized into reasonably-sized paragraphs: dysfunctional family, character flaws, failed relationships, death, and ghosts. Consider the movie Top Gun as a good example of this concept. I disagree with the late Mr. Vonnegut, because he has overgeneralized when he said all stories are rewrites of Hamlet. The book I review today is not a variation on the theme of Hamlet, but is more than just a children's story. Stanley Seagull, written by Cathy Mazur and illustrated by Colleen Gedrich, is a delightful children’s book which my children enjoyed having read out loud to them. It does have an underlying theme which may not be obvious to the younger reader, but may interest the adult elocutionist.

In brief, Stanley is a seagull who lives somewhere along the northeast coast of the United States. I thought it was along the coast of New York or New Jersey, probably because Stanley hangs out on the boardwalk. Perhaps it is because I have fond childhood memories of visiting the Boardwalk in Atlantic City in the early 1970's. Stanley thinks only of food: where to get it, where to get more, how to get more. Even his relationships with other birds are dominated by the thought of eating and how to satisfy this one single desire. He obviously is an immature bird, as he has not been invited to feed at the choicest feeding grounds. When he does get invited there, he discovers that it is a dump, a landfill along the shore. He is warned to be careful and be ready to flee at a moment’s notice, but he forgets all caution as he gorges on the many delights spread before him. He ends up trapped in a garbage truck, which takes him far from the ocean. He ends up at a city dump, which looks a lot like the landfill he just left: there is plenty of food and seagulls, but it is colder, and there is no ocean. He misses the ocean.

He meets the other birds; one, named Walter, advises him to stay as the journey back to the ocean is too far. He tries to escape anyway. After flying for a while, he spots what he thinks is the ocean but is actually just the wet pavement of a parking lot. He returns to the garbage dump, dejected. Walter advises Stanley that the only way to return to the ocean is to make the return trip in one of the garbage trucks. It is difficult to sneak aboard, but Stanley accomplishes this. He completes the trip back to the ocean and is reunited with his friends, his cousin Seymor, and his beloved ocean.

For my younger children who sat with me while I read it aloud, this was a pleasant little book which kept them interested for a while. They liked the story as well as the illustrations which went along with it. As I looked over the book, I did start to notice a few themes which struck me, and I shall elaborate on each one briefly. Stanley is more than just a seagull when seen through the eye of metaphor and symbolism.

To begin with, I saw Stanley as a Christ figure. Consider that he enters a cave in which he falls into a deep sleep; this is reminiscent of Christ lying in the tomb after His death on the cross. He goes to a place which may be considered Hell, or Purgatory. The occupants he meets are physically taken care of, but they are separated from what is their true nature; namely, to be living near the sea. Stanley breaks out of this other place, once again having to enter the cave and falling into a deep sleep. He returns to his former, preferred life; he is resurrected from the dead, so to speak. What does not go along with Stanley as a Christ figure is that he does not come back to improve the life of the seagulls in either location; in fact, one would think that those birds representing the Just would be liberated from the city dump along with Stanley. Another problem is that Stanley receives more help than he gives to those in what one might consider Hell or Purgatory.

Two other characters in literature fit Stanley even better: Jonah and Pinocchio. All three characters end up in the hold of a vessel of sorts; for Jonah and Pinocchio, it is the belly of a large fish. For Stanley, his symbolic whale is the hold of a garbage truck. All three end up in this type of prison because of their fallen nature: Jonah disobeys God, Pinocchio is constantly getting into trouble, and Stanley fails to avoid danger while he is busy gorging himself. Finally, all three are chastised and learn, grow from the experience.

However, I think the literary figure Stanley resembles the most is actually Dante Alighieri in Purgatorio. In the Divine Comedy, Dante visits Purgatory and sees how the occupants are forced to perform penances which are related to their particular sin (or sins). In Stanley’s Purgatory, he realizes that his love for food has subordinated his love for self-preservation, and that this is how he ended up in the city dump. He must conquer his overwhelming love for food before he can be free again. He has to return to the garbage truck - his own cave - without enjoying any of the delights which are found within in order to find salvation. Helping Stanley discern his plight - and the solution – is Walter, a bespectacled and feathered rendition of Virgil, who is Dante’s guide through Purgatory. Without his explanation, Stanley would have pined away at the city dump for the rest of his life.

Another theme which is briefly explored is the concept of the protagonist coming of age in the story. Stanley is obviously an immature and inexperienced bird awaiting the opportunity to develop into an adult bird. The scene where Stanley watches Seymor steal a hot dog, and when Stanley is finally invited to feast at the landfill along the shoreline are metaphors for the child on the verge of manhood. Unfortunately, the story does not follow through with this theme after Stanley comes back from the city dump.

In conclusion, Stanley Seagull is a good read for adults as well as children. Whether the author intended to create a metaphor for Dante’s Purgatorio is debatable. What is not debatable is the comment my ten-year old son made about it. He liked the book simply because Stanley found his way back home.

Home.

Back home.

Perhaps it is really a rewrite of The Odyssey?

Stephen M. Donahue
September 7, 2011

My favorite picture from the book: Stanley flying over his beloved ocean. Illustrated by Colleen Gedrich.

More about this book:

Stanley Seagull web site:

http://www.stanleyseagull.com/

Tribute Books website:
http://www.tribute-books.com/

Book Summary:

Meet a young seagull named Stanley. Follow him as he wanders far from home and tries to find his way back. Join Stanley on his journey as he learns how humans affect the balance of nature.

Cathy Mazur's Bio:

Born in Scranton, Pa., Cathy Mazur is the daughter of Gary and Catherine H. Errico. She was educated in the Dunmore public school system and graduated from Dunmore High School in 1971. She received a bachelor’s degree in Library Science from Mansfield State College in 1975. She received a Reading Specialist Certificate from the University of Scranton in 1978. Cathy was employed as an elementary school librarian for the Mid Valley School District from 1975 until her retirement in 2010. While at Mid Valley, she instituted and coordinated the RIF (Reading Is Fundamental) program for 33 years helping students to develop a love of reading outside the classroom. Cathy served on the Board of Directors for the Valley Community Library in Peckville, Pa. for over 20 years acting as president for one year and board secretary for 19 years. She presently serves on the library’s Developmental Committee chairing various fundraising events. She resides in Dickson City, Pa. with Frank, her husband of 31 years. They are the parents of two children, Gary, 27 and Gia, 19. Now in her retirement, she is focused on writing books for children like Stanley Seagull.

Colleen Gedrich's Bio:

Colleen Gedrich, a lifelong resident Throop, Pa., earned a BFA in illustration from Marywood University in 2002. She is a freelance illustrator specializing in animal-themed work. She enjoys creating her art using mostly watercolor and pastel. As a dedicated animal rights activist and full-time program coordinator for International Society for Animal Rights (ISAR), Colleen lives her dream of joining her passions for animals and art to promote a more harmonious world with a touch of beauty. Recent works produced by Colleen include t-shirt and invitation designs, children’s book illustrations (A Different Kind of Hero), and book covers (With God There Is Hope). Colleen has also teamed up with her very talented artist mother, Kathy Holmes Gedrich, and paints murals for children’s nurseries.

Hardcover
Price: $16.95
ISBN: 9780983741817
Pages: 32
Release: July 2011

Paperback
Price: $7.95
ISBN: 9780983741800
Pages: 32
Release: July 2011

Riding Shotgun VIII?

2011-09-05T15:45:00.000-05:00

Something is fishy with blogger today. Every time I click on the blog, I am redirected almost immediately to a page for something called 'blogrolling.' It is so confounding that I can't even determine which episode of Riding Shotgun this should be. For now, it is Riding Shotgun until proven otherwise.

This week we remember two men who died during the previous decade.

The first person is my grandfather, Francis M. Donahue, Sr. He died shortly after 9/11, which was also shortly after the birth of our son Marcellinus. At first we did not see how any of us could go to the funeral in Florida until Carolyn came up with the idea of me going with just the newborn baby.

That is what I did. This was before all the complex security measures started by the TSA. Instead there were uniformed soldiers hanging about in the airport lobby with M-16's over their shoulders. It was still rather easy to get onto an airplane, even with a huge stroller and a crying baby.

I recall passengers on the Southwest Airlines flight moving away from us when they saw us selecting a seat. And the young woman who took the seat next to us had to endure all sorts of comments about 'our' baby until I told the stewardess that she was not with me on the flight.

It was a nice visit and opportunity to pray for the repose of the soul of my grandfather.

The next man is Fr. Mary Phillip, OCD. He was at the Basilica of the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in San Antonio. He was a great preacher and a devoted servant of God. Along with his many priestly responsibilities, he also worked on the grounds doing edging and weed-whacking. He had a serious curvature of his spine in the neck which made it appear that he was constantly looking at the ground.

Shortly before he died, he had an operation done to correct the defect in his neck. One might say the procedure was successful but a common side effect - paralysis from the neck down - also occurred. He spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair, unable to use his arms or legs.

This is one of my favorite quotes from St. Teresa:

In your mercy of prayers please remember to pray for the repose of the souls of these two men.

May their souls, and all the souls of the Faithful Departed, rest in peace.

Good Quote from St. Vincent de Paul

2011-08-21T18:47:00.001-05:00

You will find out that Charity is a heavy burden to carry, heavier than the kettle of soup and the full basket. But you will keep your gentleness and your smile. It is not enough to give soup and bread. This the rich can do. You are the servant of the poor, always smiling and good-humored. They are your masters, terribly sensitive and exacting master you will see. and the uglier and the dirtier they will be, the more unjust and insulting, the more love you must give them. It is only for your love alone that the poor will forgive you the bread you give to them.

St. Vincent de Paul

Sent from my iPhone

Thoughts at 113 Degrees

2011-08-01T22:55:00.000-05:00

As I drove toward downtown Fort Worth, with the thermometer on the dashboard reaching 113 degrees Fahrenheit, I was reminded of a passage from C.S. Lewis' book Out of the Silent Planet, when an Earth-bound ship passes almost too close to the Sun:

"And still the thermometer rose. The walls of the ship were too hot to touch. It was obvious that a crisis was approaching. In the next few hours it must kill them or get less.

"It got less...."

It will, in December.

Good Poetry: The Hound of Heaven, by Francis Thompson

2011-07-30T20:48:00.000-05:00

I FLED Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat—and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet—
‘All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.’

          I pleaded, outlaw-wise,
By many a hearted casement, curtained red,
  Trellised with intertwining charities;
(For, though I knew His love Who followèd,
        Yet was I sore adread
Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside).
But, if one little casement parted wide,
  The gust of His approach would clash it to.
  Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist to pursue.
Across the margent of the world I fled,
  And troubled the gold gateways of the stars,
  Smiting for shelter on their clangèd bars;
        Fretted to dulcet jars
And silvern chatter the pale ports o’ the moon.
I said to Dawn: Be sudden—to Eve: Be soon;
  With thy young skiey blossoms heap me over
        From this tremendous Lover—
Float thy vague veil about me, lest He see!
  I tempted all His servitors, but to find
My own betrayal in their constancy,
In faith to Him their fickleness to me,
  Their traitorous trueness, and their loyal deceit.
To all swift things for swiftness did I sue;
  Clung to the whistling mane of every wind.
      But whether they swept, smoothly fleet,
    The long savannahs of the blue;
        Or whether, Thunder-driven,
    They clanged his chariot ’thwart a heaven,
Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn o’ their feet:—
  Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue.
      Still with unhurrying chase,
      And unperturbèd pace,
    Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
      Came on the following Feet,
      And a Voice above their beat—
    ‘Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me.’

I sought no more that after which I strayed
  In face of man or maid;
But still within the little children’s eyes
  Seems something, something that replies,
They at least are for me, surely for me!
I turned me to them very wistfully;
But just as their young eyes grew sudden fair
  With dawning answers there,
Their angel plucked them from me by the hair.
‘Come then, ye other children, Nature’s—share
With me’ (said I) ‘your delicate fellowship;
  Let me greet you lip to lip,
  Let me twine with you caresses,
    Wantoning
  With our Lady-Mother’s vagrant tresses,
    Banqueting
  With her in her wind-walled palace,
  Underneath her azured daïs,
  Quaffing, as your taintless way is,
    From a chalice
Lucent-weeping out of the dayspring.’
    So it was done:
I in their delicate fellowship was one—
Drew the bolt of Nature’s secrecies.
  I knew all the swift importings
  On the wilful face of skies;
  I knew how the clouds arise
  Spumèd of the wild sea-snortings;
    All that’s born or dies
  Rose and drooped with; made them shapers
Of mine own moods, or wailful or divine;
  With them joyed and was bereaven.
  I was heavy with the even,
  When she lit her glimmering tapers
  Round the day’s dead sanctities.
  I laughed in the morning’s eyes.
I triumphed and I saddened with all weather,
  Heaven and I wept together,
And its sweet tears were salt with mortal mine;
Against the red throb of its sunset-heart
    I laid my own to beat,
    And share commingling heat;
But not by that, by that, was eased my human smart.
In vain my tears were wet on Heaven’s grey cheek.
For ah! we know not what each other says,
  These things and I; in sound I speak—
Their sound is but their stir, they speak by silences.
Nature, poor stepdame, cannot slake my drouth;
  Let her, if she would owe me,
Drop yon blue bosom-veil of sky, and show me
  The breasts o’ her tenderness:
Never did any milk of hers once bless
    My thirsting mouth.
    Nigh and nigh draws the chase,
    With unperturbèd pace,
  Deliberate speed, majestic instancy;
    And past those noisèd Feet
    A voice comes yet more fleet—
  ‘Lo! naught contents thee, who content’st not Me!’

Naked I wait Thy love’s uplifted stroke!
My harness piece by piece Thou hast hewn from me,
    And smitten me to my knee;
  I am defenceless utterly.
  I slept, methinks, and woke,
And, slowly gazing, find me stripped in sleep.
In the rash lustihead of my young powers,
  I shook the pillaring hours
And pulled my life upon me; grimed with smears,
I stand amid the dust o’ the mounded years—
My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap.
My days have crackled and gone up in smoke,
Have puffed and burst as sun-starts on a stream.
  Yea, faileth now even dream
The dreamer, and the lute the lutanist;
Even the linked fantasies, in whose blossomy twist
I swung the earth a trinket at my wrist,
Are yielding; cords of all too weak account
For earth with heavy griefs so overplussed.
  Ah! is Thy love indeed
A weed, albeit an amaranthine weed,
Suffering no flowers except its own to mount?
  Ah! must—
  Designer infinite!—
Ah! must Thou char the wood ere Thou canst limn with it?
My freshness spent its wavering shower i’ the dust;
And now my heart is as a broken fount,
Wherein tear-drippings stagnate, spilt down ever
  From the dank thoughts that shiver
Upon the sighful branches of my mind.
  Such is; what is to be?
The pulp so bitter, how shall taste the rind?
I dimly guess what Time in mists confounds;
Yet ever and anon a trumpet sounds
From the hid battlements of Eternity;
Those shaken mists a space unsettle, then
Round the half-glimpsèd turrets slowly wash again.
  But not ere him who summoneth
  I first have seen, enwound
With glooming robes purpureal, cypress-crowned;
His name I know, and what his trumpet saith.
Whether man’s heart or life it be which yields
  Thee harvest, must Thy harvest-fields
  Be dunged with rotten death?

      Now of that long pursuit
    Comes on at hand the bruit;
  That Voice is round me like a bursting sea:
    ‘And is thy earth so marred,
    Shattered in shard on shard?
  Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me!
  Strange, piteous, futile thing!
Wherefore should any set thee love apart?
Seeing none but I makes much of naught’ (He said),
‘And human love needs human meriting:
  How hast thou merited—
Of all man’s clotted clay the dingiest clot?
  Alack, thou knowest not
How little worthy of any love thou art!
Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,
  Save Me, save only Me?
All which I took from thee I did but take,
  Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might’st seek it in My arms.
  All which thy child’s mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:
  Rise, clasp My hand, and come!’
  Halts by me that footfall:
  Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
  ‘Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
  I am He Whom thou seekest!
Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me.’

Riding Shotgun VII

2011-07-20T14:47:00.001-05:00

This week we pray for the repose of the souls of two people who died recently; Dr. Warren Carroll and Mrs. Betty Garza.

Mrs. Betty Garza died on July 11, 2011. She was preceded in death by her husband several years earlier, and we got to know her while we attended Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church in Dallas. Here she is pictured along with Fr. Paul Weinberger. Betty never remarried, and never removed her wedding ring. She was heard to say that she married her husband, Dr. Marc Garza, for all eternity. She was a wonderful example of fidelity to all of us.

These two folks have one thing in common: neither was blessed with any children, yet they contributed greatly to the common good. For Mrs. Garza, she suffered several miscarriages.

Both Warren Carroll and Betty Garza are examples of the good all people can do in whatever vocation they are called to. Both were called to the married life where the blessing of children was denied them. So they probably never came home to a closet dusted with baby powder - as I just did - but they also missed out on the amusement of watching an 8-, 9-, and 10-year old boys cleaning up the mess.

As a reminder, I include below a holy card of St. Benedict I received from Christendom College recently:

Eternal rest, grant unto them, oh Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon them.

May their souls, and all the souls of the Faithful Departed, rest in peace.

Amyoplasia Congenita Syndrome

2011-07-19T14:52:00.001-05:00

Name: Amyoplasia Congenita Disruptive Syndrome

General:

Part of Arthrogryposis Multiplex Congenita
Multiple joint contractures
Two forms:

Neuropathic: reduced number of anterior horn cells; demyelinated motor roots; fewer axons in peripheral nerve roots.
Myopathic: contractors due to lack of intrauterine movement.

Airway:

Micrognathia
Cleft palate

Respiratory:

Hypoplastic lungs
Diaphragmatic hernia
Hydrothorax

Gastrointestinal:

Gastroschisis
Pyloric stenosis

Musculoskeletal:

Scoliosis
Contractures
Joint deformities

Considerations:

Difficult airway
Positioning nightmare
Difficult intravenous access possible
No relationship between arthrogryposis syndromes and MH

Links:

Arthrogryposis Multiplex Congenita
Guerin-Stern Syndrome
Otto Syndrome
Rocher-Sheldon Syndrome
Rossi Syndrome
Congenital Arthromyodysplastic Syndrome
Myodysplasia Foetalis Deformans
Myodystrophia Foetalis Deformans

References:

July 17, 1794

2011-07-17T19:28:00.000-05:00

A shining example of fortitude, faith, obedience, and humility. They died as obedient sisters to the last, asking for permission to die from their Prioress before climbing up to the guillotine.

The Holy Martyrs of Compeigne

2011-07-16T00:42:00.000-05:00

Laudate Dominum omnes gentes

Laudate eum, omnes populi

Quoniam confirmata est

Super nos misericordia eius,

Et veritas Domini manet in aeternum.

Gloria Patri et Filio et Spiritui Sancto.

Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper.

Et in saecula saeculorum.

Amen.*

This weekend we remember the Holy Martyrs of Compeigne, who were beheaded with the guillotine on July 17, 1794 in Paris, France.

This is a picture of a small statue of the Blessed Mother holding Jesus, which was kissed by each nun before she climbed the ladder up to the executioner:

The nuns are listed below, or can be found at this website:

Madeleine-Claudine Ledoine (Mother Teresa of St. Augustine), prioress, b. in Paris, 22 Sept., 1752, professed 16 or 17 May, 1775;
Marie-Anne (or Antoinette) Brideau (Mother St. Louis), sub-prioress, b. at Belfort, 7 Dec., 1752, professed 3 Sept, 1771;
Marie-Anne Piedcourt (Sister of Jesus Crucified), choir-nun, b. 1715, professed 1737; on mounting the scaffold she said "I forgive you as heartily as I wish God to forgive me";
Anne-Marie-Madeleine Thouret (Sister Charlotte of the Resurrection), sacristan, b. at Mouy, 16 Sept., 1715, professed 19 Aug., 1740, twice sub-prioress in 1764 and 1778. Her portrait is reproduced opposite p. 2 of Miss Willson's work cited below;
Marie-Antoniette or Anne Hanisset (Sister Teresa of the Holy Heart of Mary), b. at Rheims in 1740 or 1742, professed in 1764;
Marie-Françoise Gabrielle de Croissy (Mother Henriette of Jesus), b. in Paris, 18 June, 1745, professed 22 Feb., 1764, prioress from 1779 to 1785;
Marie-Gabrielle Trézel (Sister Teresa of St. Ignatius), choir-nun, b. at Compiègne, 4 April, 1743, professed 12 Dec., 1771;
Rose-Chrétien de la Neuville, widow, choir-nun (Sister Julia Louisa of Jesus), b. at Loreau (or Evreux), in 1741, professed probably in 1777;
Anne Petras (Sister Mary Henrietta of Providence), choir-nun, b. at Cajarc (Lot), 17 June, 1760, professed 22 Oct., 1786.
Concerning Sister Euphrasia of the Immaculate Conception accounts vary. Miss Willson says that her name was Marie Claude Cyprienne Brard, and that she was born 12 May, 1736; Pierre, that her name was Catherine Charlotte Brard, and that she was born 7 Sept., 1736. She was born at Bourth, and professed in 1757;
Marie-Geneviève Meunier (Sister Constance), novice, b. 28 May, 1765, or 1766, at St. Denis, received the habit 16 Dec., 1788. She mounted the scaffold singing "Laudate Dominum". In addition to the above, three lay sisters suffered and two tourières. The lay sisters are:
Angélique Roussel (Sister Mary of the Holy Ghost), lay sister, b. at Fresnes, 4 August, 1742, professed 14 May, 1769;
Marie Dufour (Sister St. Martha), lay sister, b. at Beaune, 1 or 2 Oct., 1742, entered the community in 1772;
Julie or Juliette Vérolot (Sister St. Francis Xavier), lay sister, b. at Laignes or Lignières, 11 Jan., 1764, professed 12 Jan., 1789.

The two tourières, who were not Carmelites at all, but merely servants of the nunnery were: Catherine and Teresa Soiron, b. respectively on 2 Feb., 1742 and 23 Jan., 1748 at Compiègne, both of whom had been in the service of the community since 1772.

I have reviewed the book To Quell the Terror in the past; I strongly recommend this book rather than the fictionalized account of this incident found in the more famous book called The Song at the Scaffold by Gertrude von Le Fort. Another great reference I found online is this blog.

Before going out to their execution, the Prioress obtained some hot chocolate for the nuns; it was their only nutrition they received for the last 24 hours of their lives. In honor of them, I plan on making a big cup of hot chocolate to drink in honor of these wonderful women who died 217 years ago this weekend.

Besides, I have to de-scale my coffee maker this weekend.

*Praise the Lord, all nations;

Praise Him, all people.

For He has bestowed

His mercy upon us,

And the truth of the Lord endures forever.

Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit,

as it was in the beginning, is now, and forever,

and for generations of generations.

Amen.

Riding Shotgun VI

2011-07-13T13:22:00.000-05:00

This week we shall pray for my brother, Fr. Denis Donahue, who was ordained to the priesthood on May 19, 1990.

He is a good brother and a good priest. Like all priests, he needs our prayers and sacrifices to help him in his vocation.

22nd Anniversary Video

2011-07-13T09:56:00.003-05:00

Here is a video Carolyn made commemorating our 22nd anniversary. All of these pictures are from the past year. Thank you Carolyn, and thank you, God, for such a wonderful wife and children. We are truly blessed beyond measure.

Benches for 13

2011-07-06T21:58:00.000-05:00

Riding Shotgun V

2011-07-05T23:23:00.006-05:00

I was off last week, so I did not change the prayer cards in the car.

This week, I have two prayer cards along for the ride. One is a prayer before surgery, another is a prayer card for one of the sisters at the Carmelite convent in Irving who died in March.

First, let us look at the prayer before surgery:

I like this picture because it reminds me of places where the Crucifix is placed along a path, inviting the pilgrim to pause for a moment's prayer or reflection. I can think of a garden in San Antonio,or the Grotto in Emmittsburg, Maryland, where one can pray the Stations of the Cross while enjoying the great outdoors. It is a bit more difficult with little children, though.

On the back, there is a prayer for those about to have surgery:

I love the fact that it includes an act of contrition, because God knows that people do die in surgery. It is my strong desire that I would be able to receive the Anointing of the Sick and be able to make a good confession before any operation I might need.

In my profession, there have been times where I have anticipated the death of a patient - especially in the case of trauma patients. At that point, when general anesthesia is more resuscitation than anesthesia, I have actually leaned close to the head of the patient and said prayers for them. I tell them that they are in danger of dying, that God loves them, and then say an act of contrition for them. If there is any chance that they have any awareness of what is happening to them, I hope to help them prepare for the end of their life.

It has been years since I have had to do this, and it saddens me to think of those who have died in the operating room after some act of violence or imprudence.

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The prayer card for Mother Jeanne Marie Ange of the Infant Jesus, OCD, I think also has a medical connection. I have to check with my sources, but I believe that Mother was a nurse and then a CRNA before entering Carmel.

I don't recall meeting Mother, because most of our contact was with the porter - and even that was through a screen. I suspect she was not the one to run and answer the door whenever we dropped something off there. We did see the sisters around All Saints Day, when the children would dress up as saints and the sisters would have to guess their names.

One year, I was a prop for one of my daughters who was dressed up as St. Therese of Liseaux. I just had to stand next to her with a handkerchief over my face; that is what Louis Martin did a lot of around the end of his life. The sisters figured it out, though.

In totally unrelated news, the 'Big Blue' got new shocks and tires. Now it is a smoother and safer ride for the whole family.

For Carolyn

2011-07-01T17:06:00.008-05:00

The quote from Proverbs below reminds me of Carolyn.

Here is a picture of St. Frances of Rome. She was a Wife, Mother, and Religious who lived from 1384 to 1440:

On the back is this quote from Proverbs, which is appropriate to recall on our wedding anniversary:

A good wife who can find?
She is far more precious than jewels.
The heart of her husband trusts in her,
and he will have no lack of gain.
She does him good, and not harm,
all the days of her life.
She seeks wool and flax,
and works with willing hands.

She puts her hands to the distaff,
and her hands hold the spindle.
She opens her hand to the poor,
and reaches out her hands to the needy.

Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be
praised.
Give her of the fruit of her hands,
and let her works praise her in the gates.

Proverbs 31:10-13, 19-20, 30-31

When I first typed this in, I misspelled 'gain' for 'gin,' which changed the sentence above to:

"The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gin."

Well now.

Thankfully God has given me a wonderful wife rather than an endless supply of gin.

Here is an icon I bought at Clear Creek Monastery for Carolyn. It is the Holy Family:

Here we are on our wedding day:

Here are the flowers I sent to Carolyn today. I am so blessed with her, and I thank God for her in my life!

22nd Anniversary Celebration

2011-06-30T14:21:00.006-05:00

Here we are, another year in love with each other, and rather than making a new video I shall just re-publish the 21st Anniversary video. I wish we had another new face to introduce this year, but that was not God's will. We are still praying for more children while we care for the ones we have been given by Him.

Here is the link for the video for all of you reading this on facebook.

Here is the link to the Anniversary photograph collection. Watch as the number of children - and their sizes - grow with every year.

I thank God for the blessing of my wife Carolyn, and I pray every day that I can be a better husband for her. She is the greatest gift on Earth to me.

Riding Shotgun IV

2011-06-20T22:56:00.004-05:00

This week I pray for the repose of the soul of Fr. James Downey, O.S.B., who died January 29, 2008.

I met Fr. Downey while living in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I was a resident and fellow at the time, and I met this good priest through one of Carolyn's sisters. He would call me occasionally to ask for some medical advice; after a while he started to refer to me as his doctor.

I recall on Ash Wednesday, 1996, attending a private Mass and distribution of ashes at Fr. Downey's residence at 5 a.m. I was on call that day, and did not expect to get to Mass because of the full schedule we had that day. It was beautiful to be there in the presence of Our Lord as well as such a good and holy priest.

After we moved to Texas we did not see him very much. Carolyn visited him while he was staying at St. John Cantius in Chicago. While she was happy to see him, she was also struck with how much he had aged in just a few years. Shortly afterwards, Fr. Downey returned to the Benedictine Abbey in Atchison, Kansas for the last years of his life.

We found out about his death on a weekday in late January, 2008. I recall going to work the next day, and thinking about how I had never found time to go and see Father one more time. As the day went on, I started thinking that Atchison was not that far from Dallas, and that we could leave after work on Friday to be there for the funeral on Saturday. When I called Carolyn to tell her about my thoughts about taking a road trip, I found that she was already planning it. I hadn't told her about my plans, and yet she knew what was in my heart.

We drove to Kansas on Friday night, and got up to go to the funeral on Saturday afternoon. The monastery - St. Benedict's Abbey - was located on the campus of Benedictine College. It was a beautiful campus, and was experiencing unseasonably mild weather during that weekend, and we were very impressed with the college and area. It appears that Benedictine College is one of several American schools which are striving to become centers of orthodoxy and obedience to the teachings of the Catholic Church. That was refreshing to see.

I dropped off the family at the entrance to the abbey and then went to park the van. I was a few minutes late getting into the church, and so I missed seeing my old friend one more time. They had just closed the casket as I walked in.

After Mass, we went to a luncheon reception held in the refectory, or dining room, of the monastery. We got to meet some of Fr. Downey's fellow monks, and some alumni from the school. All of them, once they realized how many children we had, encouraged us to consider Benedictine College when our children were ready for a higher education.

I wrote about Fr. Downey back then in this post. Little did I know that in two month's time we would be having a funeral for one of our own. Lately, St. Benedict seems to have become more important to our family, especially with the blessings that have come to us from such places as the Abbey in Cullman, Alabama, the Abbey in Atchison, Kansas, and now the Abbey in Clear Creek near Hulbert, Oklahoma. All of these places, and the monks who live there, have been a source of strength and consolation to our whole family.

I am glad that one of our sons is named after such a holy saint, Saint Benedict.

Fr. James Downey, O.S.B., Monk of St. Benedict's Abbey

Eternal rest grant unto him, Oh Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon him.

And may his soul and all the souls of the faithful departed, rest in peace.

The Most Catholic of Firearms

2011-06-19T14:20:00.009-05:00

What is the most Catholic of all firearms?

One would assume an Italian rifle or shotgun would take this prize. Perhaps something which was given to Pope Benedict XVI, or one of his predecessors, is right now gathering dust in the corner of a storage room where gifts are placed until they can be put on display somewhere in the Vatican.

Think about it: every gift received by any head of state must be kept in some sort of place of honor, because they cannot be cast aside without offending the giver. Unless, of course, one is the current president of our fair country, and decided that a bust of Winston Churchill given to President 'W' Bush after 9/11 could be returned to the British. Hopefully, President Obama kept the pen and box made from the hull of a British Navy ship which combated slavery.

I would argue that the award for the most Catholic firearm would not go to any Italian firearm; nor would I give that distinction to the M1 Garand, the World War II rifle designed by John Cantius Garand. That is a statue of St. John Cantius above, and the M1 Garand rifle below:

No, I think the award for the most Catholic of Firearms belongs to a Soviet rifle which has many names but is generally referred to as the Mosin Nagant rifle. Back in February, I wrote a little essay about something I picked up at a local gun store. It was a Mosin Nagant 91/30, built in 1942, and was only about $120. Over the past few months, I have been slowly reading up on this weapon, taking it apart, cleaning it, and putting it back together again. I found the experience fascinating, as the history behind this rifle is almost as interesting as its function as a weapon.

Here is the Mosin Nagant when I first took a picture of it:

Now look what has happened. Where once there was one, now there are three! They are almost as prodigious as Tribbles, and that is why they are considered by me to be the Most Catholic of Firearms:

The original Mosin Nagant is at the top of the picture. Another 91/30 is at the bottom; in between is an M44, which is a carbine version of the Mosin Nagant rifle and comes with an attached bayonet. I am still in the process of cleaning up those other two rifles, and thought that I would let them sit out in the sun to loosen up some of the lubricant encasing them. Today is another day with strong winds out of the South, and temperatures above 100, and it did not take long before I had my hands full wiping off the 'cosmoline' lubricant.

I think cosmoline is the Russian version of Vaseline, only darker. Perhaps Vaseline gets dark after a couple of decades.

Along with the rifles, I pulled out the cartridge holders, oil and solvent cans, and the cleaning and tool kit which came with the 91/30's. They were also encased in cosmoline, and I thought I would remove the cosmoline using the North Texas heat rather than the household oven like this man did:

Ew. Instead I put the tool and cleaning instruments as well as the oil/solvent cans out in the back yard. I love my wife and children too much to do this kind of stuff inside. All that brown stuff is the cosmoline:

Note that the two cans are shaped differently. There are collectors who know all about anything that is associated with the Mosin Nagant, and they could tell me where the can originated and how it was designed. I am not that interested in that, though.

The only tool needed to service the Mosin Nagant is this little piece of metal. It has a screwdriver blade on one end, and the oval shaped hole is to help placement or removal of the bayonet. The most important thing on this tool are the series of cuts made into the side of it. Those cuts are used to verify the distance which the firing pin extends out of the bolt. If it does not come out enough, the pin won't contact the primer. If it extends too far, hot gases may spray back at the user when the firing pin penetrates the primer cover. So this is a vital tool to keep the rifle functioning.

I hope that my next blog entry on firearms will be me shooting one - or all - of these rifles.

Psychologist Dr. Ray Guarendi, who along with his wife adopted 10 children, likes to talk about the 'unplanned adoption' they had, when they ended up with one more child than they expected. Well, since we are doing the Dave Ramsey Total Money Makeover, there is no room for impulsive buying at gun shows - at least not without consulting with Carolyn. So while I would consider the Mosin Nagant to be gifted with the ability to reproduce quickly, I don't expect to see any more new additions to the family gun collection.

We would rather see other, more human, additions to our family:

My Brother's Father's House

2011-06-18T22:43:00.009-05:00

The Finding of the Saviour in the Temple, by William Holman Hunt

Happy Father's Day!

This post is not about Father's Day.

It is about a church.

It is about the church where my older brother is Pastor.

By the way, the opinions expressed in this blog are mine alone, and do not reflect those of anyone known to me.

I cannot read minds, either.

I would have to say that in the process of being reassigned from one parish to another, my brother has left one of the most beautiful churches in the Diocese of Arlington, Virginia for one of the less attractive ones. Fortunately, both churches are full of good people, good parishioners who are devoted to Our Lord and His Church. The physical plant, thankfully does not always reflect the piety of the occupants.

It is ironic that I should visit his church so soon after reviewing a book about churches in the Diocese of Scranton, Pennsylvania. In my review of Framing Faith: A Pictorial History of Communities of Faith, I discussed how most of the churches were modified during the late 1960's or early 1970's, and how those changes seemed to relegate God - in particular, the Tabernacle - to the sideline of attention and honor in each church. I speculated that - perhaps - there may be some association between replacing Man for God as the center of the altar and the subsequent decline and closing of the parishes featured in that book. I know there are a lot of other factors which could explain the closing of churches, but I can't help thinking that there may be something to this little pet peeve of mine.

My review of Framing Faith can be read here. My favorite bizarre picture from the book is featured below. It shows the center of the altar of one of the churches. I added the comments to my copy of the picture:

Can you say wreckovation?

Where to start....in Framing Faith, the architecture of a church is compared with the journey of the faithful from birth to Heaven, starting with the baptismal font in the back of church, leading up the center aisle to the altar, then to the Tabernacle, which represents Heaven on Earth. Rather than following their lead, I shall begin at the altar.

As always, I am using that 21st century version of the box camera: my iPhone. Perhaps next time I shall break out my beloved Pentax K-1000. Here is a shot from the back of the church:

Did I mention that the church used to be a gymnasium? It does not matter much, because one has to work with what one has. I would not want to convert a gym into a church, but if that is what it would take to provide for the parish, that is what I would do. Anyways, the pews are actually individual chairs which are bolted together, and each one has its own little kneeler. In the distance, one can see the altar. The Tabernacle is off to the side, behind the lectern on the right hand side of the altar. Here is a closer shot of the altar.

Note the candle by the Tabernacle on the side of the altar. Also note the centralized seating for the priest and altar servers, including a microphone for the celebrant. The marble edifice behind the priest's seat actually has a gap in it where a crucifix could be placed. In addition, there is a shelf of sorts where the Tabernacle could be positioned in the center of the altar. All one would have to do is remove the seats and voila! - Our Lord is back to the place of greatest honor in church.

Of course, one is distracted from looking at the altar when confronted with this construction upon entering the sanctuary:

Yes. It is a baptismal pool. I showed this picture to a friend, who initially thought it was a stairway to a crypt chapel. Perhaps it is - one which can only be accessed with scuba gear.

My brother dryly observed that what looks like a good idea in the theoretical sense often proves to be difficult to achieve in practical terms. I thought about this baptismal pool after he said that; but my first thought was of something from my youthful days in college.

At that time, I was dating a Baptist girl(I think), and she mentioned the exhilaration of being baptized by immersion at some point in the past. Since she did not mention how old she was at the time of her baptism, I thought I would go ahead and ask her. Of course, I did not couch my words in a way which would encourage ecumenism - or mixed marriages, for that matter:

"So, how old were you when you got dunked?"

End of date. It was all for the good, as I am blessed with Carolyn beyond any measure.

Outside, on the parish grounds, there was a beautiful statue of Our Lady:

Now, compare and contrast the church of Mater Dei in Irving, Texas. This was originally a Korean church of some sorts, even including what looked like a dunk tank of all things off the side of the altar. After renovating it, this is what it looks like. Perhaps one day all of our churches will be brought back to putting Our Lord front and center.

Riding Shotgun III

2011-06-13T10:11:00.002-05:00

Once again, my intention to pray for the repose of the soul of a deceased priest were diverted to praying for a priest who was ordained in 2003.

Fr. Thomas Longua, FSSP, stationed at Mater Dei Catholic Church in Irving, TX recently celebrated his 8th anniversary of his ordination. He announced this at Mass yesterday, and also mentioned that there were some holy cards from the ordination in the back of church. He asked us to take one, and to pray for him.

Since I spent a bit of time in the back of church, I figured I would grab one of what I expected would be a small pile of cards. Nope. There were several huge stacks of them, so I took two.

Please pray and make sacrifices this week for Fr. Longua and all priests as they work to serve God in the trenches.

Te Deum for Pentecost

2011-06-11T21:06:00.002-05:00

Please join us in praying the Te Deum today on Pentecost. It is fitting that such praise should be given on the day that the Holy Spirit descended on the Apostles and the Blessed Mother.

The last time I urged you to pray this was when we were finishing a novena asking for our unborn child to live to receive the waters of baptism. We were praising God for the answer to our prayers, even though the answer was not what we desired.

But today is a day to REJOICE and be thankful. So crank up the volume on your computer, play the YouTube video, and chant along with the monks at Solesmes!

Te Deum laudamus: te Dominum confitemur.
Te aeternum Patrem omnis terra veneratur.
Tibi omnes Angeli; tibi caeli et universae Potestates;
Tibi Cherubim et Seraphim incessabili voce proclamant:
Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus, Dominus Deus Sabaoth.
Pleni sunt caeli et terra maiestatis gloriae tuae.
Te gloriosus Apostolorum chorus,
Te Prophetarum laudabilis numerus,
Te Martyrum candidatus laudat exercitus.
Te per orbem terrarum sancta confitetur Ecclesia,
Patrem immensae maiestatis:
Venerandum tuum verum et unicum Filium;
Sanctum quoque Paraclitum Spiritum.
Tu Rex gloriae, Christe.
Tu Patris sempiternus es Filius.
Tu ad liberandum suscepturus hominem, non horruisti Virginis uterum.
Tu, devicto mortis aculeo, aperuisti credentibus regna caelorum.
Tu ad dexteram Dei sedes, in gloria Patris.
Iudex crederis esse venturus.
Te ergo quaesumus, tuis famulis subveni:
quos pretioso sanguine redemisti.
Aeterna fac cum sanctis tuis in gloria numerari.

V. Salvum fac populum tuum, Domine, et benedic hereditati tuae.
R. Et rege eos, et extolle illos usque in aeternum.

V. Per singulos dies benedicimus te.
R. Et laudamus nomen tuum in saeculum, et in saeculum saeculi.

V. Dignare, Domine, die isto sine peccato nos custodire.
R. Miserere nostri, Domine, miserere nostri.

V. Fiat misericordia tua, Domine, super nos, quemadmodum speravimus in te.
R. In te, Domine, speravi: non confundar in aeternum.

Here is the translation for those of us who do not speak the Latin:

O God, we praise Thee, and acknowledge Thee to be the supreme Lord. Everlasting Father, all the earth worships Thee.
All the Angels, the heavens and all angelic powers,
All the Cherubim and Seraphim, continuously cry to Thee:
Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Hosts!
Heaven and earth are full of the Majesty of Thy glory.
The glorious choir of the Apostles,
The wonderful company of Prophets,
The white-robed army of Martyrs, praise Thee.
Holy Church throughout the world acknowledges Thee:
The Father of infinite Majesty;
Thy adorable, true and only Son;
Also the Holy Spirit, the Comforter.
O Christ, Thou art the King of glory!
Thou art the everlasting Son of the Father.
When Thou tookest it upon Thyself to deliver man,
Thou didst not disdain the Virgin's womb.
Having overcome the sting of death,
Thou opened the Kingdom of Heaven to all believers.
Thou sitest at the right hand of God in the glory of the Father.
We believe that Thou willst come to be our Judge.
We, therefore, beg Thee to help Thy servants
whom Thou hast redeemed with Thy Precious Blood.
Let them be numbered with Thy Saints in everlasting glory.

V. Save Thy people, O Lord, and bless Thy inheritance!
R. Govern them, and raise them up forever.

V. Every day we thank Thee.
R. And we praise Thy Name forever, yes, forever and ever.

V. O Lord, deign to keep us from sin this day.
R. Have mercy on us, O Lord, have mercy on us.

V. Let Thy mercy, O Lord, be upon us, for we have hoped in Thee.
R. O Lord, in Thee I have put my trust; let me never be put to shame.

Hat tip to EWTN

Tobit, Raphael, and the Fish

2011-06-08T12:10:00.001-05:00

Riding Shotgun II

2011-06-06T16:41:00.004-05:00

For this week's intention on my commute, I had planned to continue praying for the Faithful Departed, but God had other plans.

I was looking for a book on Saturday evening, and in the process of searching our bookshelves in the living room, I came across two holy cards from the same priest. As I looked for one book, I started rearranging some of the other books, and first one card fell out from between two encyclicals. When put that book back in its correct place, there was another holy card from the same priest. Both holy cards were commemorating the ordination of Fr. John Phillip Rickert, FSSP. He was ordained in May, 2010.

This is the design on the front of one of the cards:
The other card had a picture of St. Padre Pio on it. Please remember Fr. Rickert in your prayers this week.

For those who cannot recognize them, those are .410 shotgun shells.

2011: A Year of Anniversaries

2011-06-04T23:28:00.006-05:00

22 years ago, on June 5th, 1989, this man in China stepped in front of a column of tanks which were rolling through Tiananmen Square the day after the Chinese government cracked down on protesters. This took a lot of guts to do. Chances are we shall never have to face down a tank in public, but every day we have to fight against the temptation to live our Faith in what is becoming increasingly a pagan world.

Pagan is too nice a word for it; savage might be better. That is the word I used to describe the person or persons who keyed my car last night as it sat on a dark street in one of the more affluent suburbs of North Dallas.

I wasn't thinking of any of these things when I got an e-mail from Wikipedia which reminded me of this incident. Instead, two thoughts came to mind: one is that in the movie Until the End of the World, there is a collection of statues in Tiananmen Square commemorating this incident - even though in real life few Chinese know about the picture, thanks to censorship. The other thought was that there are a plethora of anniversaries which occur during 2011.

I just thought you would want to know, that:

1911: John M. Browning developed the handgun which was the main sidearm for the U.S. military forces until about 1985. It is commonly called the '1911,' and fires the .45 ACP cartridge. At the time, the U.S. Army was looking for a 'self-loading' pistol which used a caliber bullet that had adequate 'stopping power' against the enemy. At the time, our soldiers were fighting guerrillas in the Phillippines who were highly motivated and often hopped on drugs to tolerate a lot of pain in battle, and the .38 caliber, or 9 mm bullets were not as effective as the Long Colt .45 bullets.

Speaking of guerrillas, I recall that as a child, listening to reports of the Vietnam war on the radio, I sincerely believed that we were fighting against an army of gorillas, not people, over there. Of course, I also worried about Fred Flintstone staying on the front porch all night, and George Jetson being crushed by that treadmill, too.

I am hoping, that if I am a good boy, say my prayers, and be a good husband and father to my children, that I might find an M1911 under the Christmas tree this December. I think it would be fitting to get an '11 during '11, don't you?

1964: I was born. I am now 47. People say Carolyn and I look a lot younger than our stated ages. I say it is because Carolyn is beautiful and I am just plain immature.

1976: 35 years ago, on July 4, 1976, we celebrated the Bicentennial of our Country. For those who are confused, that was the celebration of the 200th anniversary of the adoption of the Declaration of Independence. I was at Wright's Lake Camp, a Boy Scout camp somewhere in Michigan on that day, and we had a very solemn celebration of that momentous occasion.

1986: I completed my undergraduate education with a Bachelor of Arts in Chemistry from Eastern Michigan University. My degree was 'of Arts' because I tried to do as much literature, history and other applied pseudosciences as possible in order to have something interesting to say at parties. I was astonished when I saw the B.A. on my diploma. I got it in the mail, because I chose not to attend my graduation. I spent that morning volunteering at the hospital, because that-is-what-one-has-to-do-in-order-to-get-into-medical-school.

I still am rather dull at parties despite the B.A.

1987: I am commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant in the U.S. Air Force Medical Service Corps, and receive a Health Professions Scholarship for medical school. No one issues me an M1911.

1989: One adventurous young woman named Carolyn says 'I do,' and thus begin the happiest years of my life. We become itinerant student/doctor types, leaving behind a series of dead lawns as we made our way from Ann Arbor, to Detroit, back to Ann Arbor, then San Antonio, then Dallas, and finally, Fort Worth, Texas. Along the way, we increased the population of Irish in the world, and continue to strive to bring forth more of what Rudyard Kipling called that

"profoundly lovable race that fight like fiends, argue like children, reason like women, obey like men, and jest like their own goblins of the wrath through rebellion, loyalty, want, woe, or war."

1991: Wearing a rented gown, and sweating profusely, I received my medical degree in a sweltering, non air-conditioned auditorium in Michigan. In the balcony above, where it is hotter, Carolyn cheers for me and pats her six month pregnant belly. I can't tell you what day I graduated from medical school, because it took me a month to determine that in order to get a medical license in Texas. I figure it was kept such a secret that even I didn't know, and so you should be kept ignorant as well.

On July 1, 1991, our second anniversary, the first day of my internship, I discover at 5 p.m. that I am on call. So much for a dinner date with Carolyn. I am informed of my call when I am handed a pager which starts beeping - and doesn't stop for the next 12 hours.

1996: I complete my post-graduate training in Anesthesiology, with a Fellowship in Pediatric Anesthesiology. At this point, the gypsies steal me away to the Air Force to serve my time commitment. I spend time in Alabama being re-educated about how to act like an Air Force Officer, and Carolyn gets ready to move herself and 6 children - including a 2 month old baby - down to San Antonio.

1996: Fifteen years living in Texas. I recall those early days, when I started something we called the 'Donahue Death March,' where I would come home from work and get everybody to go out for a walk in the late afternoon heat of San Antonio. I don't know what possessed me to do such a crazy thing. I guess it was one way to get us acclimated to the Texas heat.

1996: I pass my boards on the first try. Since I was certified before the year 2000, I did not need to recertify after ten years, but I did so anyways in 2009. With the way things are going, I figured it would be better to get it done now and deal with regulations in 2019 when I get to that point in time.

2000: On a hot July morning, I walked away from the Air Force. It was an amicable separation, with me getting out without any commitment, they got their airplanes back, and I could go and see them anytime I wanted. It doesn't seem like eleven years. Seriously, serving my country was an honor and truly a privilege, and I shall always look upon my time with the Air Force as a blessing to me and my family.

2006: This blog started as a way for me to comment on the Roman Sacristan's blog. I sort of backed into having a blog, and now it is five years old. I am blessed to have an opportunity to fill the blogosphere with my opinions, self-aggrandizing posts, and milestones in our life in Texas.

As for the Roman Sacristan, he is in a monastery in Italy, which is what he prayed for for so long. Please remember him in your prayers. God bless.

Bernard Antics

2011-06-04T01:46:00.002-05:00

Take a good look at our iTouch. The picture is one of Bernard taken in San Antonio back in 2009 when he was just about 6 months old.

Note that the iPod is disabled.

Note that it is disabled for the next 21,768,474 minutes. That is what happens when Bernard just sits there trying to unlock the iTouch for a long, long time.

All in a day's work for my two year old son.

He also likes to take apart the children's kitchen set and climb into the space designated for the sink.

Not one to ignore the creature comforts, he likes to make sure he has a beverage to go along with it.

I recall some workers at McDonald's got fired for bathing in sinks in the kitchen - or maybe it was because they went the extra mile and videotaped said bathings and posted them on YouTube.

Heavenly Father, Lord of Life, send us more little ones to raise up to live with You forever in Heaven!

Riding Shotgun I

2011-06-01T15:56:00.003-05:00

'Riding Shotgun' is the term we used to call for the front passenger seat of whatever car we were in. It was the best seat in any car - after the driver's seat, because it was usually a bucket seat, had the best view, was closest to the air conditioner vents, and allowed one to have control of the radio. It is the spot usually occupied by my wife.

On workdays, I ride alone, with just a stuffed hammerhead shark (Sphyrnia beaniebabius) as company. I thought I would change that by bringing along a holy card which I could change out every week or so.

This week, while driving to and from work, I offer my prayers for the repose of the soul of the father of a friend of mine. Here is the holy card which we got at his funeral, and which has been sitting in my car for about a month now. Every day, when I touch it to pick up my Rosary, or to put my cell phone down on the console, I say a little prayer for him:

I might as well add his soul to the other intentions I have while commuting.

Frank M. Pinedo served in WWII, became a lawyer, was a past president of the League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC), and father of three sons. I am blessed to be a good friend of one of his sons.

May his soul, and the souls of all the Faithful Departed, rest in peace.

Memorial Day Prayer

2011-05-30T12:01:00.003-05:00

Prayer of a Soldier in France

by Alfred Joyce Kilmer (1918)

My shoulders ache beneath my pack
(Lie easier, Cross, upon His back).
I march with feet that burn and smart
(Tread, Holy Feet, upon my heart).

Men shout at me who may not speak
(They scourged Thy back and smote Thy cheek).

I may not lift a hand to clear
My eyes of salty drops that sear.

(Then shall my fickle soul forget
Thy Agony of Bloody Sweat?)

My rifle hand is stiff and numb
(From Thy pierced palm red rivers come).

Lord, Thou didst suffer more for me
Than all the hosts of land and sea.

So let me render back again
This millionth of Thy gift. Amen.

Please remember in your prayers those who died for our country.

Eternal rest grant them, Oh Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon them.

May the souls of the Faithful Departed, through the Mercy of God, rest in peace.

Homeschool Conference Report

2011-05-29T21:13:00.010-05:00

We attended the IHM North Texas Conference in Arlington this past weekend. We, or at least one of us, have attended a home schooling conference just about every year since 1993. That was around the time when we decided that home schooling was what we were going to do with whatever children God sent us.

Even after so many years, we still find these conferences worth attending. First of all, it is good to get a boost of encouragement and enlightenment from some of the speakers. Sometimes a casual comment made at the podium will inspire us to renew our commitment to be better parents and educators. Usually these bits of wisdom are related to discipline issues. Our children have noticed this phenomenon as well. They told us that they dread our return from these conferences, as it usually means the loss of some of their so-called freedoms is imminent.

The conferences are also a place to learn about new trends, products, controversies, and challenges in Catholic homeschooling. Some of the speakers brought up some things which will affect all of us in the future; I shall speak about this in a moment.

In brief,

We, uh, missed the first conference given by (Mrs. Terry Arnold) because I had to run some errands on the way to the convention center. It was on making the change from school to homeschooling. It was really helpful for some people we met after that talk, as they were just at the conference to consider making the jump into homeschooling.

The second talk was by Dr. Dominic Aquila, the VP for Academic Affairs at the University of St. Thomas in Houston. This school is getting a reputation for orthodoxy here in Texas. He discussed several papal documents, in particular Familiaris Consortio and Ex Corde Ecclesiae, especially how the former spells out how the parents are responsible for the education of their children, and the latter spells out what a Catholic university has to do to be faithful to the Magesterium. The zinger of his talk was when he discussed the future of 'home school' college, and how the person who can 'synthesize' various disciplines (such as science, ethics, philosophy) together will be highly sought after in the future. His talk gave us much to think about.

Mrs. Virginia Seuffert gave the next talk - after a dinner break - on 'Reaping the Rewards of Homeschooling.' It was a good talk for those who were considering switching to home schooling as well as for those of us who have been doing it for a while. We always enjoy listening to Mrs. Seuffert. Her talk gave us hope that one day our children will be happy, holy, and productive souls.

Speaking of hope, Father Philip Wolfe gave an excellent talk about the virtue of Hope. I recommend folks listen to some of his recorded sermons at this website.

The following day - Saturday - brought with it another event in the neighboring hall. It was some sort of Pokemon video game contest. For the most part, our conference had minimal contact with that group, with one glaring exception: the bathroom. Needless to say, the restroom which was spotless on Friday night looked as if a herd of incontinent animals had run through it on Saturday. Also, there was a large inflatable thing suspended from the ceiling in the room. One might say they had elevated their inflatable god to worship:

First up was Mrs. Seuffert, who spoke about managing housework and schoolwork. Once again, a good talk, but in the middle of it I turned to Carolyn and said, "She can't be serious." At that moment, Mrs. Seuffert was explaining to the audience how easy it was to make homemade spaghetti sauce. Carolyn whispered back that a lot of parents don't know the basics of cooking, and so this was worth including in this lecture. All I could think is I don't know how good I have it, and I was thankful that our children all have or are learning to cook. One day, Carolyn will teach me, too.

Dr. Ray Guarendi gave two lectures; the first was on maintaining a sense of humor in the family and dispelling some of the myths of experts and the media regarding parenting. The second was on discipline. We always enjoy Dr. Ray's talks because they combine humor and lots of good, sound advice.

The second to last talk was by Mrs. Terry Arnold, who gave a lot of practical advice for the new and old homeschoolers alike.

The final speaker was Fr. Joseph Fessio, who spoke on the new translation of the Missal which is coming this Advent. He discussed how the new translation will be more faithful to the original Latin prayers of the Mass. One great benefit of this change is that the original Latin prayers are far more beautiful than the translations which originated in the late 1960's and early 1970's. We experience this whenever we attend Fr. Paul Weinberger's Novus Ordo Latin Mass at St. William the Confessor Catholic Church in Greenville, Texas. In the weekly flyer, Fr. Paul will print out several of the prayers of the Mass, such as the Collect, so that one can compare the current prayer with the Latin translation. The Latin is always more beautiful, sounding like the words one would use to address God. Fr. Fessio pointed out that the new translations will also be more theologically sound than the 1970's translations.

This was an excellent conference. We learned from all the speakers, and all the speakers were interesting and inspiring. Well done, IHM!

In conclusion,

Love after 21+ years.

I took Carolyn to dinner that night after the conference; we got a seat in an Italian restaurant. We were located near the center of the restaurant, along one of the busiest aisles right between the bar and the kitchen. That was okay with us; we were too busy talking and looking into each other's eyes.

I did notice a young couple at the next table over. They were also looking deep into each other's eyes and holding hands and kissing. Meanwhile, at our table, we were engaged in a lively discussion of the family budget. I was trying to explain how, with absolutely no knowledge of accounting, money was going to be available to pay certain bills.

It occurred to me that twenty plus years ago we would have been holding hands and kissing in public like that younger couple. That doesn't mean that the love is gone from our marriage; rather, it just means that we don't choose to display our affection as publicly as we used to. In fact, our love has grown deeper and stronger through the years, and in less than a month we shall celebrate our 22nd anniversary - the most wonderful years of my life.

Besides, any time we do kiss in public we hear from our children about how gross and disgusting it is.

TEN WAYS TO DESTROY THE IMAGINATION OF YOUR CHILD

2011-05-27T08:05:00.008-05:00

Book Review:

TEN WAYS TO DESTROY THE IMAGINATION OF YOUR CHILD

Anthony Esolen
Intercollegiate Studies Institute
2010

I purchased this book after attending a dinner where the author, Anthony Esolen, was the guest speaker. We were late for the dinner, and so Carolyn and I - and the oldest five children living at home - polished off the remaining spaghetti right before Dr. Esolen started. The speech was far better than the spaghetti.

TEN WAYS TO DESTROY THE IMAGINATION OF YOUR CHILD is another in a series of books which proposes to do just the opposite of its stated goal. The most famous example of this genre would have to be C.S. Lewis' The Screwtape Letters, where a senior devil is writing letters of encouragement and advice to a junior devil who is working on ruining the soul of his 'patient.' The book also reminded me of a product which was sold during the Prohibition era - grape juice - which came complete with instructions on how to NOT ferment their product to produce wine. One can benefit from doing the opposite of what is suggested in all of these pieces of literature.

In his introduction, Dr. Esolen states that "a judicious application of even three or four of these methods will suffice to kill the imagination of an Einstein, a Beethoven, a Dante, or a Michelangelo." Of course this is not what he wants, so every chapter looks at the various things which are being squeezed out of the life of a child; things which will stimulate the mind of a boy or a girl to grow into independent, thinking man and women whose minds are free to think on their own.

I found the book inspiring, with every chapter full of references to great works of literature to recommend to my children. There is even a bibliography at the end of the book for those of us who are trying to construct a home library. Dr. Esolen has a writing style which is enjoyable to read, even when the subject is serious. For example, this paragraph made my wife and I chuckle when I read it to her as we both were drifting off to sleep:

Chastity is absurdly easy to laugh at. For of all, no one is chaste. Second, it is stupid to be chaste to begin with. What's all the bother about, anyway? Elizabeth Bennett believes, in Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, that her family will be disgraced when it becomes known that her silly sister Lydia has run off, unmarried, with a soldier. Weren't they quaint and unenlightened in Jane Austen's day? Better that Elizabeth Bennett should follow her sister's lead, ignoring that prig Mr. Darcy, and make the carriage springs squeak with Colonel Denny or someone - anyone will do.

Dr. Esolen focuses on several institutions which have seriously hampered the imagination of the child: television, schools, and lack of free or unscheduled time in the life of the child. In his lecture, he talked about a game he used to play, where one would try to guess if a collection of buildings one would see on trips was either a prison, a school, or a factory. He pointed out that all three are built in the same manner and perform the same function. Once again, in his introduction he describes the phenomenon known as Take Your Daughter to Work Day:

"See, Jill, this is the office where Mommy works. Here is where I sit for nine hours and talk to people I don't love, about things that don't genuinely interest me, so that I can make enough money to put you in day care."

I enjoyed reading the book. Like any other good book, TEN WAYS TO DESTROY THE IMAGINATION OF YOUR CHILD inspired me to want to read more classic literature which Dr. Esolen mentioned in this excellent addition to my library.

St. Albert and the Worm Dissection

2011-05-25T12:26:00.010-05:00

WARNING: GRAPHIC IMAGES OF WORM INNARDS FOLLOW.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Yesterday, we dissected worms as part of our St. Albert Science Class.

After starting with prayer, we sat down and discussed the various functions which animals have to carry out in order to live and thrive in this world. In brief, we talked about how most animals have to:

Breathe
Eat
Move about
Make baby animals

Along with this short and incomplete list, I added:

Circulation
Excretion or elimination of waste products
A nervous system to control all of these functions

All of these functions can be seen rather easily in the lowly earthworm, Lumbricus terrestris. Here is a picture of an earthworm in happier times:

This discussion superficially covered these functions mentioned above. The children were not as interested in 'functions of an animal' as they were keen on asking other questions, such as:

Is the worm still alive?
Could it come alive if we put it into the ground?
Do scientists and doctors dissect people?

Cadaver dissections is something I can talk about, and that started a HUGE side discussion. I told them a little about what it was like to dissect a human body in medical school. I explained where the bodies came from, how they were donated by people before death, and this was a tremendous gift they had done for the field of medicine. I mentioned that my cadaver in anatomy lab was a man with a tattoo of the name 'Ann' on one of his arms. I also mentioned that I pray for the repose of that man's soul whenever I think of him.

They wanted to know what it smelled like. I forgot to tell them that we wore clothes designated for anatomy lab and nothing else so they could be thrown out at the end of the semester. As I write this, I recall how it took a while to get the odor of formaldehyde out of my system after lab. Thankfully, our worms came in a different type of preservative which smelled bad, but not as awful as formaldehyde.

As an aside, I skipped over the fact that earthworms are hermaphrodites, where they have both male and female parts for making little worms. For the sake of this class, we considered this worm to contain 'reproductive organs' for producing eggs. Our children can learn the details of reproduction later.

Originally we were going to do the dissection out in the open air, but the wind was too strong, so we did it in the school room.

We prepared for the class by getting some thick cardboard to use as the dissection boards. We got out a container of surgical instruments and dissecting implements we had set aside for classes like this. Our older children had used them in the local home school co-op; Nathaniel assisted me and his siblings by showing them how to dissect the worm. I reminded them that scalpels and knives are used very little in dissection. This is why we could use one scalpel to dissect five worms; this made the class safer than if every child were waving around a #15 blade.

I had obtained the used surgical instruments not by theft but by getting broken instruments from the sterile supply department of one of the hospitals I worked at in San Antonio. At that time (1998), we were dissecting frogs, and I wanted some tools for the job. The head of sterile supply, once he realized why I wanted the instruments, let me look through a barrel full of hemostats, forceps, scissors, needle drivers and probes which were too damaged to be repaired or reused for surgery. They still could be used for frog dissection, though. We held onto those instruments for other dissection classes. The only thing I bought recently for dissection were some disposable scalpel blades.

We used non-sterile gloves bought at Costco. Max brought along his own device to limit the smell:

After pinning the worm to the cardboard and identifying external markings on it, we all made a small incision on the dorsum, or back, of the worm, and then used scissors to open it up for inspection. Here is where the pins really came into play:

Looks kinda gross, eh? The anterior, or front, part of the worm is where all the business takes place. After the first two or three inches, the body of the worm consists of repeating segments which only contain the digestive, excretory, nervous, and respiratory system. Muscles in the wall of the body help move it. For this reason, we did not fillet the whole worm.

The internal anatomy shows what the highest priorities are for a worm. The major system is the digestive system, which is the dark tube running the length of the body. At the front of the worm, the digestive system consists of a mouth, pharynx, esophagus, crop, and gizzard. I explained how the worm, like the chicken, has no teeth, and must find another way to grind up food. This led to a side discussion of the Thanksgiving turkey, and all the little bits of turkey which come in a little bag inside of it. I reminded them of the gizzard which the turkey uses to grind up seeds and grain, and how this is similar to the one the worm uses.

Some of the children looked uneasy. Perhaps we won't be having turkey this Fall....

The next biggest organ system are those for making little worms. In comparison, the brain is barely recognizable. It shows that worms spend very little time writing sonnets to their loved one or blogging about books they have read. Most of the white things in the picture below are for reproduction.

After cleaning up, we reviewed some of the functions of an animal, and how they are accomplished by the lowly earthworm. I also talked about how important worms are to our soil. Recently, I tilled the garden, and I only saw one worm in the soil. In the future we may be raising worms to help our North Texas soil grow more than just grass.

I don't think any of the children walked away from this wanting to go to medical school, but there is still time....

St. Albert, pray for us!

Framing Faith: A Pictorial History of Communities of Faith

2011-05-22T23:41:00.006-05:00

Book Review:

Framing Faith: A Pictorial History of Communities of Faith

Sarah Piccini
Ivana Pavelka

Tribute Books
2011

Disclaimer: Tribute Books invited me to review this book, and supplied me with an electronic copy of it. No other goods were received by me, and the opinions expressed here are my own. I thank Tribute Books for the opportunity to review this book.

Framing Faith: A Pictorial History of Communities of Faith is a tribute in pictures to the various Catholic ethnic groups which settled for a time in the Diocese of Scranton, Pennsylvania. From the mid-1800’s until the early 1900’s, immigrants from Europe moved into Northeast Pennsylvania to work in the coal mines and iron works which were the main industry of the region. Along with their distinct languages, the settlers brought their unique traditions and culture with them, especially those related to their Faith. This book showcases ten Catholic churches which were founded by different communities, and is a testimony to the devotion of the men and women who sought to retain their culture and faith in their new homeland.

This book originally started as a project to preserve some record of the many churches which were closing in Lackawanna County, which is part of the diocese of Scranton. Over time, the endeavor grew, with photographs provided for the book by art students as well as Ms. Pavelka. Ms. Piccini complimented the photo essay with a brief but relevant history of the founding, growth, and decline of each parish. Funding was provided by the ARTS Engage! Program, Northeastern Educational Intermediate Unit (NEIU 19), and the Lackawanna Heritage Valley Authority. The artists and writer who contributed to this book have succeeded in achieving their stated goal: to preserve the history of these now empty churches in an informative and entertaining manner.

Briefly, the book consists of an introduction and ten chapters. The introduction gives important background information to the reader. In the next ten chapters, ten churches are presented, from their humble beginnings in the hearts and minds of the people, to their construction, growth, maturation, and sad but inevitable closure. Most of the churches were started either to provide for the needs of a new wave of immigrants arriving from a different country, or because travel to the closest existing church was too far or difficult to face every Sunday. Construction for most of these churches was funded by the parishioners, and much of the labor was done by the men after a long day in the mines or foundries. The author reports that the people contributed to make each of the churches a thing of beauty, with an emphasis on devotions which were specific to each particular ethnic group. Key events in the history of the churches - and the pastors who led the parish through them - were mentioned as well. The closure of each church, but not really any explanation for it, ends each chapter.

Every chapter includes photographs taken by Ms. Pavelka and her students. The pictures vary in each chapter, from external shots, close-ups of statues, to scenes in the sanctuary. These are an excellent collection of photographs of the churches at the time of closure. It is unfortunate that there are no pictures from the 1800’s or early 1900’s.

One thing which troubled me about this book was that there was no reason given for the closure of so many churches in one diocese. The most likely answer is that the coal and iron resources were depleted, and the jobs went away. As a result, the workers moved on. Another explanation is that the children of immigrants work hard to have a better life; usually this is done by pursuing an education and a professional career. Perhaps there is another explanation which I shall put forward: the closure of the churches is connected with the changes in the church which are reflected in the architecture.

In the introduction, a church is described as processing from the entrance - or narthex - where secular business takes place, to the baptismal font, or stoup of Holy Water. This is followed by a central aisle which leads the faithful up to the high altar. Upon this altar, we Catholics believe that the priest changes the bread and wine into the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus Christ. It is where Heaven comes down to Earth, and the fine metals, cloth, and silk used on the altar should convey to the faithful a sense that something Holy is taking place on the altar. Before the 1960’s, the priest faced away from the congregation, toward the Tabernacle, which was the center of the altar and held the consecrated Hosts. For a Catholic, the Tabernacle is the most important part of the altar. A good example of this is a quote about Fr. George Schmidt, who was pastor of St. Mary’s starting in 1928:

Father Schmidt was a devout and pious man, for whom “everything accomplished started at the Tabernacle....they have noticed his daily visits to Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament....” (p. 27)

Contrast this with what happened to every one of these churches. For six of the churches, Ms. Piccini specifically mentions that renovations were made in order to conform with changes made after Vatican II in the 1960’s. Some of the most common changes were the placement of the altar so the priest faces the congregation, and elimination of the Communion rail; I have no idea what was changed in any of these churches because there are no old pictures. But what I can see is that in at least half of the churches, the Tabernacle is no longer front and center on the altar; instead, a stately chair, more like a throne, is positioned in the place of honor.

One altar - the one where Fr. Schmidt spent so much time before the Blessed Sacrament - looks like something off the set of Star Trek - The Original Series:

(Photo: Ivana Pavelka - notes added by me)

I would argue that the changes in the church architecture represent an emphasis on Man over God. God has been relegated to the sidelines by placing the Tabernacle on a side altar, and Man is the center of one’s attention at the summit of the altar. The priest now faces the congregation, so that the people concentrate upon him rather than the devotions and intercessions he would offer to God for his people if he were facing the altar. It would follow that putting Man before God will result in a loss of the faithful, loss of vocations, loss of churches. I don’t mean to single out the Diocese of Scranton; this has happened all over the world.

This book was a good read; I recommend it to all history buffs. I found the historical vignette of each parish fascinating, and the pictures were an excellent representation of each church. I also enjoy any book which makes me think; in this case, thinking of a possible connection between architecture and our Faith.

Stephen M. Donahue
May 22, 2011

UPDATE:

Here are various links for the book which I neglected to publish last night:

Book web site:
http://www.framingfaith.com

Book Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Framing-Faith/155670971158620?sk=wall

Sarah Piccini Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=30703496

Ivana Pavelka Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=100002171373171&sk=wall

Tribute Books website:
http://www.tribute-books.com

Tribute Books Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Archbald-PA/Tribute-Books/171628704176

Tribute Books Twitter:
http://www.twitter.com/TributeBooks

Advice from St. Stephen of Hungary to his son St. Emeric

2011-05-18T15:06:00.003-05:00

My dearest son, if you desire to honor the royal crown, I advise, I counsel, I urge you above all things to maintain the Catholic and Apostolic faith with such diligence and care that you may be an example for all those placed under you by God, and that all the clergy may rightly call you a man of true Christian profession.

Failing to do this, you may be sure that you will not be called a Christian or a son of the Church. Indeed, in the royal palace, after the faith itself, the Church holds second place, first constituted and spread through the whole world by His members, the apostles and holy fathers, And though she always produced fresh offspring, nevertheless in certain places she is regarded as ancient.

However, dearest son, even now in our kingdom the Church is proclaimed as young and newly planted; and for that reason she needs more prudent and trustworthy guardians less a benefit which the divine mercy bestowed on us undeservedly should be destroyed and annihilated through your idleness, indolence or neglect.

My beloved son, delight of my heart, hope of your posterity, I pray, I command, that at very time and in everything, strengthened by your devotion to me, you may show favor not only to relations and kin, or to the most eminent, be they leaders or rich men or neighbors or fellow-countrymen, but also to foreigners and to all who come to you. By fulfilling your duty in this way you will reach the highest state of happiness. Be merciful to all who are suffering violence, keeping always in your heart the example of the Lord who said: “I desire mercy and not sacrifice”. Be patient with everyone, not only with the powerful, but also with the weak.

Finally be strong lest prosperity lift you up too much or adversity cast you down. Be humble in this life that God may raise you up in the next. Be truly moderate and do not punish or condemn anyone immoderately. Be gentle so that you may never oppose justice. Be honorable so that you never voluntarily bring disgrace upon anyone. Be chaste so that you may avoid all the foulness that so resembles the pangs of death.

All these virtues I have noted above make up the royal crown and without them no one is fit to rule here on earth or attain to the heavenly Kingdom..

Anesthesia vs. patient interview

2011-05-14T10:03:00.000-05:00

Been there, done that. A humorous look at what rarely happens during a pre-anesthetic assessment:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E75FPnr8DYo&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Sent from my iPhone

Catholic Urban Legends, Part II: Evil Nuns

2011-05-09T22:19:00.006-05:00

This is the second installment of this occasionally repeating topic.

I am sure we have all heard about how evil nuns are. But has anyone ever met someone who was actually beaten or struck by a nun?

I have asked a lot of people if they know of any specific incidents involving a nun meting out corporal punishment. Usually, the person making the allegation has to back off from their statement. In fact, I have not had anyone ever own up to witnessing such an act. I have seen a teacher strike a student, but that was in Switzerland, in 1972 or 1973, IN A PUBLIC SCHOOL. So I open up this question to the three of you who religiously follow this blog (those from Banco, Virginia, Mountain View, California, and 'United States') to please report if you have evidence to support the belief that nuns are evil. Let us see if we can resolve this Catholic Urban Legend once and for all.

Related to this, please Complain to Barnes and Noble about this issue:

What got me onto this subject of nuns was a series of toys I saw displayed at our local Barnes and Noble store. Here they are. I looked for toys which mocked our Jewish or Muslim brethren, but they were not around. I wonder what would happen if any of these toys made fun of Islam. I suspect the inventor or manufacturer would find himself carted off to sensitivity training - or worse:

Similar the 'Roman Sacristan' game of olden days. I actually thought these were funny at first, but then I read the outside packaging, talking about this was a way to make up for those 'wasted hours' on Sunday.

Then there is this game, which sounds like one to replace those little 'footballs' people used to make out of notebook paper:

Nun-Chuks. Another reference to corporal punishment, I guess.

Please contact Barnes and Noble to complain about this Anti-Catholic garbage.

Sonnet XVIII

2011-05-09T09:09:00.000-05:00

This is today's Shakespeare Sonnet a Day. A nice one to read to my sweetheart Carolyn on the day after Mother's Day. Enjoy:

Sonnet #18

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

Sent from my iPhone

To The Mothers At Mass

2011-05-08T11:21:00.008-05:00

Last Tuesday, we took the children to morning Mass at Mater Dei Catholic Church in Irving, Texas. During Mass, I noticed that there were a lot of little children present; it was hard to ignore the sounds of crying, kicking the pews, and playing with books which all but drowned out the words of the priest and the responses of the sacristan. Rather than finding it irritating, I thought it was refreshing to hear so many children. Their contributions to the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, while officially unapproved, are the greatest indicator that a church is growing –literally – with parishioners who are open to life and are bringing their little ones to Mass.

It occurred to me that others may not welcome the noise of little children as much as I do, and that they may have criticized the mothers afterwards. It is usually the mothers who bring their children to Mass. I have a special place in my heart for mothers who bring their children to Mass, because that is what Carolyn has done for so many years. She has been scolded, even run out of some churches, because of the noise of our far-from-perfect children. The occasional words of encouragement she received were a tremendous consolation to her.

Since I did not have a chance to thank the mothers and encourage them to keep bringing their children to Mass, I sat down and wrote this letter to them instead.

To the Mothers Who Brought the Noisy Children to Mass on Tuesday:

Thank you for taking the time to bring your children to weekday Mass. I am not being sarcastic when I say this. You are doing the greatest service to yourself, your children, your husband, other parishioners, and priests. In short, you are strengthening the Body of Christ when you bring your little toddlers and infants - and older children as well - in to the presence of Our Lord.

For some of us, your presence is a reminder of how it used to be when our children were the ones making the noise in the back of church. I still can remember the times each of my children has charged the altar in the middle of the Consecration, trying to reach the priest before being captured by Mom or Dad. Now, most of my toddlers are taller than me, but we still have a few young children who like to add to the general disorder of weekday Mass.

But back to you and your children at Mass. For yourself, you are receiving the greatest support and consolation when you come to Mass. Your role as wife and mother is a constant challenge to 'die to self' for the benefit of children who show little or no appreciation for your work. Sadly, the world also looks down upon the vocation you have chosen. It is here, in front of the Blessed Sacrament, that you can receive what is most important for the work that God has called you.

Your children are seeing the best example that a parent can give of what is most important: living a life of Faith; in particular, one which is centered on the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. Every day that you set aside time from your hectic schedule to come to church is another lesson for the children that Mass should be a focus of their life rather than a one-hour Sunday obligation which has to be fulfilled in order to get on to other things in life. On the practical side, consider that weekday Mass teaches the children how to behave on Sunday, when Mass is usually longer. It also really helps if your husband can make it to weekday Mass with the whole family as well. Children need to see that this is important to Dad as well as Mom.

For husbands, if they cannot make it to daily Mass with the family, they can still reap the benefits of your attendance. First, they benefit from your prayers offered up, including prayers you have for your husband in particular. Second, by strengthening your faith, you strengthen the whole family. It is the woman who is the heart and soul of the family, and the rest of the family will gravitate toward whatever level of devotion and piety she sets. Your husband has entrusted you with the children which are the fruit of your love, and it is a tremendous joy for him to know that you are bringing them to Our Lord in the course of your daily activities.

Parishioners will benefit from your children being at Mass because your children are our future. Specifically, most of the priests and religious who will be ordained in twenty to thirty years from now are presently screaming in church, being carried out of the sanctuary yelling "No! No! NO!" or loading their diapers while pretending to sleep in their mother's or father's arms. It would be good for the folks who are distracted by children to consider that these little people will one day be the priests, doctors, nurses and lawyers who will be taking care of them in their old age. I think they would want those folks to be good, faithful Catholics.

Last of all, priests can grow in the virtue of patience while dealing with your noisy children. I don't know who said it originally, but there are times when a religious has to set aside his prayers and perform some act of corporal mercy for someone else. One might equate ignoring a fidgeting toddler with the porter of a monastery having to leave vespers to answer the doorbell. That is just part of being a parish priests, whether one is a diocesan priest or in an order.

So please keep bringing your children to Mass during the week. You need it, even though every ounce of your fallen nature is telling you otherwise. The rest of us need it as well, whether we admit it or not.

Sincerely,

Dadwithnoisykids

P.S., that drawing at the top of this letter was us in 1998!

Doing a Body Good

2011-05-04T17:04:00.006-05:00

"The meeting between ignorance and knowledge, between brutality and culture - it begins in the dignity with which we treat our dead"

- Frank Herbert

A lot has been said about what happened to Osama bin Laden, and how he was interred at sea according to Muslim observances. Actually, he was not interred, since that word means to be buried 'in terra,' or in the ground. Anyways, some folks seem to think that the U.S. forces should have done more things, perhaps been a little disrespectful with his corpse. At a minimum, some folks are objecting to our respectful observance of Islamic customs in disposing of his remains.

I would disagree with this idea, and it took me a while to come up with a good explanation for why we should have treated this terrorist's body with respect.

I recalled some instances in the past where the bodies of Americans were desecrated and shown on TV and the internet. The most memorable - and disturbing - example I could think of were the images of our dead servicemen being dragged through the streets of Somalia after their failed mission back in October, 1993. The picture above is of the crew of Super 6-4, the second Black Hawk helicopter shot down in that fight. The only survivor in that picture is the man on the right, Mike Durant. Chances are the photographs of American servicemen being mangled and mistreated were those of the others standing in front of the helicopter.

In Mark Bowden's book, Black Hawk Down, he relates how some Somalians came across the mobs abusing the bodies of our servicemen; one of the witnesses of this, Bashir Haji Yusuf, relates how he wanted to stop the crowd, but couldn't:

"They had a dead American soldier draped over a wheelbarrow....the man's face looked peaceful, distant....[p]eople spat and kicked at the body.

"Bashir followed, appalled. This is terrible. Islam called for reverential treatment and immediate burial of the dead, not this grotesque display. Bashir wanted to stop them, but the crowd was wild."

Some Saudi Arabian soldiers, attached to the UN forces, also confronted a mob which was abusing the body of a dead soldier. They asked them,

"If he is dead, why are you doing this? Aren't you a human being?"

They were warned that if they did not move on, they would also be shot.

Of course, our own Faith demands respect for the body, as mentioned in St. Paul's first letter to the Corinthians:

"Or know you not, that your members are the temple of the Holy Ghost who is in you, whom you have from God; and you are not your own?
For you are bought with a great priced. Glorify and bear God in your body."
- 1 Corinthians 6:19-20

So I think our military was right to bury the body of Osama bin Laden in accordance with his religion, in the proper manner. Unlike the mobs in Somalia, and other places where our troops have fallen and have been desecrated, there will be no pictures around to incite outrage because we did not show this man, even this man, the respect due to any human body.

Divine Mercy Sunday

2011-05-01T21:08:00.004-05:00

This is Theodore's picture of Divine Mercy.

Today I found one of the holy cards from Theodore's funeral in a book which Carolyn was reading. And so once again today, for the umpteenth time, I asked God why it pleased Him to take our son away from us.

The only thing which came to me were the words from the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, where it says that God's Will is 'Love and Mercy Itself.' All I could think was that Theodore's death was permitted for the good of the souls of his family.

Pieces of Intelligence: The Existential Poetry of Donald H. Rumsfeld

2011-04-29T23:47:00.005-05:00

Something for the 'Inkling' in all of us......

Book Review
Pieces of Intelligence: The Existential Poetry of Donald H. Rumsfeld
Hart Seely, Editor
Free Press, 2003

For those of you who have never heard of the Inklings, I direct you toward this Wikipedia page. In brief, the Inklings consisted of a group of British authors who would meet occasionally to discuss and read their work to one another. Notable members of the group include J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, and Owen Barfield. In addition to discussing serious works, the Inklings used to enjoy a little bit of fun. One of their favorite pastimes included having a competition to see how long one could read the poetry of Amanda McKittrick Ros without laughing. Mrs. Ros is truly a unique poet, weaving words into a tapestry of literary art which challenges the intellect and self control of the reader.

I wish I had one-tenth of her ability. She is an inspiration to me.

Hart Seely, the editor of 'Pieces of Intelligence,' pored over the words of Donald H. Rumsfeld's interviews and news briefings given while he was Secretary of Defense during the early years of the Bush Administration. What he discovered was that beneath the veneer of a professional statesman beats the heart of a poet. In many instances Rumsfeld demonstrates a variety of poetic forms depending on the message he wishes to convey. Mr. Seely has organized these different styles of poetry into seven chapters, including one on Haiku(my favorite), Sonnets, Lyrical Poems, and of course, Free Verse.

It was hard to pick one poem to quote as a favorite; I found I loved all of the poems, and would disturb the quiet of my household with laughter as I shared this book with my wife and children. They did not seem to appreciate it as much as I did. Here is one example, taken from a DOD briefing in December, 2002:

The Story

I was briefed on that story before I came down.
I have not gone over it.
It's interesting.
Let me try to put it in context,
And then I'll see if I can answer it.
I have no idea what it's about.

Deep.

As it is said in the Introduction, the poetry of D.H. Rumsfeld demands to be read aloud. I strongly recommend this book as one which will be enjoyed the most when read aloud to one's colleagues, friends, and loved ones. It is not a serious book at all, and it pokes fun at a very capable public servant without being malicious. While this book did not inspire me to write any more of my own 'Bad Poetry,' it did prompt me to purchase Mr. Rumsfeld's memoir 'Known and Unknown' on sale at our local Costco. Mr. Seely's good-natured treatment of former Secretary of Defense Donald H. Rumsfeld left me admiring him not only as a statesman during a difficult time in our country's history, but also as a poet worthy of imitation.

Parenting Tips From My Son

2011-04-28T22:21:00.004-05:00

Happy Feast of St. Louis-Marie de Monfort! One of my favorite saints and author of many books on the Blessed Mother.

A picture of the Still-At-Home Donahue Children:

And now some advice from Max, my eight year old son:

"May Almighty God bless you, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Good night, Princess." With these words, I said good night to Zelie, my youngest daughter, making the sign of the Cross on her forehead.

As she walked to her room, my eight year old son emerged from my room, shaking his head, "Oh no, Dad, you are spoiling your children."

"How is that, son," I asked.

"You are supposed to make them work more, and instead you don't, Dad. That is how come your children are spoiled."

"What should I do to make my children less spoiled, son? How could I start with you to make you and the rest of the children less spoiled? Tell me, Max."

"Oh no, Dad. Don't start with me. Start with Zelie."

Note that the instruction manual for our chainsaw recommends that it be 'For Occasional Use Only.' No need to overdo it, folks.

Rugby Weekend

2011-04-17T11:56:00.009-05:00

I spent last weekend visiting with our two oldest Noisykids who are away at college.

Ostensibly I was there to watch my oldest son play rugby, but also to catch up with the 'kids while they are away in school. This was a chance to see them on their current stomping grounds, knowing that soon they will be heading out into the world to make their own way. This was another time when I would be able to talk to them alone and see what wonderful things a liberal arts education was breeding in their minds.

I also went because one of the nurses I work with was very irate when I told her that my son was playing rugby and I had not ever seen him play. She let me know, in no uncertain terms, that I would be neglecting my responsibilities as a father if I did not go see him play. I assured her I would go as soon as possible.

To make the trip more interesting, I brought along my 16-year old son so he could have a look at the college. I figure he could start thinking about what he is planning after high school, and what better way than to sit in on some classes with his older sister. He also brought along his license and the insurance papers for the Aardvark so he could drive that while on campus.

Since I am always thinking about 'what if,' I brought a stack of reading material and directions to the National Rifle Association Museum if it turned out that the 'kids had other pressing obligations. Needless to say, I never got to the museum, and I only read while waiting in the airport or before drifting off to sleep; the whole weekend was full of visiting with one or both of the 'kids.

We flew in on Thursday night and were picked up by the college 'kids. We had a late dinner - they were waiting to eat until we got there - and then we dropped off the teenager at his dorm where he would be spending his time. I headed off to the hotel.

In the morning, I woke from a dream where someone was screaming at me. I realized that it was the telephone ringing for my wake-up call. I did some basic maintenance for the Aardvark and then headed over to the campus for Mass. After a beautiful Mass, we got together and went out to lunch. After that, we did some shopping, restocking the student's supplies and snacks. We went out again for dinner, and then began the weekend of rugby.

The first game was about three hours drive from the campus; it was a bit longer since I do not drive through Washington, D.C. for various reasons. I got to re-experience the Beltway once again. Yippee.

The Saturday game was against Washington College, which was established in 1792. I showed up on campus, and could not find anyone who could direct me toward the rugby match. Eventually I ran into someone who thought it was "over there, across the bridge, past the womens' softball field." That was exactly where it was. After walking around the field and discovering that the only other fans there were for the other team, I went and stood by my son's team. It was neat to compare and contrast the various cheers that the two teams were bellowing, as they had their pre-game huddle.

I am sure there is another name for 'huddle' in rugby; I just don't know it yet. Anyways, while the opposing team yelled about victory and beating the other team and 'GO TEAM GO,' all I could hear from our team were yells of 'Our Lady of Victory...PRAY FOR US!' and similar intercessions.

Then the game began; I had gotten a five-minute briefing from two of my partners who played rugby in college, so I was almost completely clueless about what was happening on the field. At first, I thought I was watching a cross being frisbee soccer and some bizarre game we were forced to play in Officer Candidate School (Jugball? I can't recall.). I started asking one of the players on the sidelines all sorts of questions, most of them starting with, "What just happened?" or "Why did he do that?" After a while, I got the general idea of the game. The purpose of the game is to score more points by running the ball into the opponent's end zone, preferably as close to the center goalposts as possible. This is important, because extra points are kicked from the field, lined up where the ball touched down in the end zone. That is as much as I could get out of the game. I started concentrating on what my son's role was in all this. He did not run with the ball very much, but I guess that was not his job. He did have one very special thing which seemed to be his alone. Anytime one of his teammates was tackled, he would appear and shove the opponents off of his teammate. This helped our team keep possession of the ball and kept our players from being crushed. It was kind of neat to watch him just push people off of others. I was very proud of him.

I took about 500 pictures with my iPhone camera; when I got home, I realized I had pretty much taken 500 pictures of a bunch of guys' rear ends. That is one of the problems with taking pictures with the iPhone. One is that even in cloudy daytime conditions one can hardly see the screen. That is one reason I just shot one picture after another. I was hoping for some of them to turn out right. Another is that the aperture on the camera takes into account the light in the sky and then closes down, making whatever one was photographing on the ground very dark. I tried to limit the amount of sky in the picture to compensate for this.

I should have brought my 30-year old Pentax K-1000 camera with me for some really good photography. Oh well, there is always next year.

Here is the team preparing for a 'scrum,' which is how the ball is brought back into play after an infringement. Don't ask me what an infringement is. Dominick is in the front line of this scrum, closest to the camera. He is most notable for being the dirtiest in the line. Also, this picture was from the game on Sunday, not Saturday.

Here is another interesting picture. When the ball goes out of bounds, the ball is thrown back into play by tossing it towards a member of each team who are standing side by side. Oh yes, I forgot to mention that they aren't really standing but rather getting tossed up into the air by their teammates. The picture below shows some of the details, but the coach was in the way. Rather, I took a picture with the coach in the way. You can get an idea that those guys are being elevated, though. Dominick is one of the tossers, too.

Here is a picture of Dominick after the Saturday game. He looked beat, but happy. The Crusaders won both games handily, and other fans did show up at both games (the other one was in Frederick, Maryland).

I showed up expecting to see carnage and mayhem, with limbs and teeth and noses being shattered the whole time I was there. I was pleasantly surprised, even though one player sprained his ankle, another dislocated his shoulder, and another was knocked unconscious for about ten seconds. I found myself running onto the field on two occasions; the third player was knocked out while I was dealing with the dislocated shoulder, and I did not find out about it until later. Still, I left the games thinking that this game was all right, fun to watch, and I would actually recommend it to my younger sons. Watching my son play rugby gave me a totally new and unexpected appreciation for the sport.

When I returned to work, I mentioned to some of my orthopaedic surgeon colleagues that I wished that they had been with me, since most of the injuries were in their field. Several of them showed me how to reduce a shoulder dislocation. One spoke about it with envy; he had never gotten his hands on an acutely dislocated shoulder. Most of them are seen in the emergency room, by which time they need pain medicine in order to reduce the dislocation. If there is a next time, I shall hopefully be better prepared to help someone with that kind of injury.

After the game, the team gathered in the end zone and began to sing 'Non nobis,' a Latin hymn associated with the Knights Templar during the Crusades. In Shakespeare's play Henry V, the Te Deum and Non nobis are ordered sung by the king after the victory at Agincourt. Here are some of the words of it:

Non nobis, non nobis, Domine
Sed nomini tuo da gloriam.

...for those of you not fluent in Latin, here is the English:

Not to us, not to us, o Lord,
But to your name give glory.

The version sung by the Crusaders is that one which was composed and sung by Patrick Doyle in the 1989 adaptation of Henry V. Here is the video:

Here is the link for the video for those of you on facebook. It is impossible for me to hear this, or watch this video, without getting choked up.

What the heck, here is a video for Te Deum while I am at it; this is another favorite of mine:

An here is the link for facebookers:

I had a wonderful weekend visiting with my two oldest children and seeing how they are growing up so much. It was such a blessing to spend time with them and to give them encouragement and advice - not always fun to do as a parent. I came back home to the rest of the family full of love and pride for my oldest son and daughter, and joy in being reunited with the rest of the children and my wife, the woman who is such a wonderful mother to all these little - and big Noisykids.

Last Line of Defense

2011-03-30T15:22:00.000-05:00

Here is a video shown at the Diocese of Dallas Catholic Pro-Life Committee Dinner on Saturday night:

Movie Review: Des Hommes et des Dieux, or Of Gods and Men

2011-03-27T17:56:00.006-05:00

Des Hommes et des Dieux
Released in English as Of Gods and Men

Released in May, 2010

"Die Grosse Stille meets To Quell the Terror meets Charles de Foucauld"

I went to see this movie on the Solemnity of St. Joseph because one of my children wanted to see it with some friends. The movie had a limited engagement in Dallas, and we did not want to have him see it without screening it first. So, I found myself sitting in a darkened theatre during Lent quite against my will, and I really enjoyed what I saw.
THIS REVIEW MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS.

Parental guidance: This movie has one graphic violence scene, and various corpses litter the screen at times, but nobody gets naked in this movie. There is one scene where a monk, totally out of character, says the F-bomb to another monk. Other than that inappropriate scene, the movie was excellent.

Des Hommes et des Dieux was released last May, and was released in English as Of Gods and Men - The title comes from Psalm 82, verses 6-7:

"I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High. But ye shall die like men, and fall like one of the princes."

The movie is about the seven monks of the Trappist monastery in Tibhirine, Algeria, who were beheaded in 1996. There is still some question as to who killed the monks, and the movie does not clear up that question. Algeria was torn by a civil war at the time, and the monastery found itself in the middle of the conflict. The monks saw the sick in their infirmary and sold produce in the local market. They got along very well with the local population, which was predominantly Moslem. As the conflict got closer, rebels started to 'visit' them for supplies and medical assistance. This brought the monks under scrutiny as possible rebel sympathizers by the military. They were ordered out of the country by the government of Algeria. The movie examines the monk's reasons to stay in the country despite the increased risk to their lives.

The movie reminded me of Die Grosse Stille because it used the same film techniques, and would sometimes linger on the monks praying, chanting, or performing some mundane task in the monastery. I think this was done to show how the monks kept up with their daily routine, relying on Divine Providence to see them through the conflict.

To Quell the Terror came to mind when one considers that the monks all decided to stay rather than abandon their vocation to pray and work in Algeria. I was struck by the actors who showed how their characters really wrestled with the decision to stay, and how they were still afraid at what might happen. These were real people, not fictitious religious who laughed at the possibility of martyrdom. Near the end of the movie, after celebrating Mass, the monks share their Sunday meal and a bottle of wine while listening to Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. The emotions displayed by the monks, as they realize that this may be their last meal together, was heart-wrenching. I was reminded of the chocolate which the Mother Superior got for her nuns so they would have the strength to make it to the guillotine.

I was reminded of Blessed Charles de Foucauld because of his dedication to the Muslim people, his failure at converting any of them, and how he ended up being martyred by them. In addition, I am always reminded of the prayer he wrote, and I was given when I was a lot younger than I am now:

My Father,
I abandon myself to you.
Make of me what you will.

Whatever you make of me,
I thank you.
I am ready for everything
I accept everything.

Provided that your will be done in me,
In all your creatures.
I desire nothing else, Lord.

I put my soul into your hands,
I give it to you, Lord,
With all the love in my heart,
Because I love you,
And because it is for me a need of love
To give myself,
To put myself in your hands unreservedly,
With infinite trust.

For You are my Father.

The movie is in French, with English subtitles. The two 'stars' of the movie, Lambert Wilson and Michael Lonsdale, have previously played in English-speaking movies as villains. It was neat to see them speaking their native language, and being good guys this time.

In one scene, the monks are eating their meal in the refectory, and it looks as if the only thing they are eating is 'French Fries.' It made me wonder what they call sliced pieces of potato....

I also wondered about the monks. Most were old men, and it reminded me to pray for more vocations to the priesthood and religious.

Now for a trailer or two: