Angels and Wonders: Mary's Mantle

Now to get us all in the mood for angelic conversation on Monday, here is a feature story from Joan Wester Anderson's newest book, chosen for us by the author herself.

Mary’s Mantle

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
—Cecil Frances Alexander, “All Things Bright and Beautiful”

When bombs fell out of the sky on Sunday morning, December 7, 1941, Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, was not the only city to suffer. Many areas in the Philippine Islands were also hit, including the city of Baguio. Baguio was a place of pine trees and mountains, surrounded by fields and gold mines, where Lolo Joaquin worked as an engineer. Lolo’s family, all devout Catholics, had spent the weekend visiting him at the mining site, and everyone was driving home to Baguio for Mass when they heard the bombs exploding. Terrified, the family turned the car around and sped back to the relative safety of the camp. For the next several months, they and many others, stayed near Itogon at a mission run by Father Alfonso, a Belgian priest and longtime friend.

Lolo had graduated from the Colorado School of Mining and had American friends, so as the Japanese army invaded city after city, he became involved in the resistance movement. He refused to work in the copper mines, knowing the metal would be turned into bullets used against his friends. His wife, Lola, smuggled messages inside loaves of freshly baked bread to American prisoners in concentration camps. But both knew it was just a matter of time before the Japanese made inroads into more distant areas, and discovered their activities.

Early in October 1942, as monsoon season began, word spread that Japanese soldiers were heading in their direction. “We’ll go deeper into the mountains, to Dalupiri,” Father Alfonso told the families that had been staying with him. They could hide among the Benguet tribe, whose kings were sympathetic to their plight.

The journey began early in the day, but Lolo soon realized that, for his family, passage was going to be difficult. Not only were the Joaquins traveling with four young children, but Lola had recently had a miscarriage and was still very weak. As miles passed and the trails became rockier, she often stumbled and fell. Other families tried to help, and Lolo knew that his was holding the rest of them back. With the Japanese on their heels, this could be disastrous for everyone.


“Go on ahead,” he finally told Father Alfonso. “We’ll catch up.”

Father nodded reluctantly. “We’ll send people back to help carry Lola as soon as we can,” he promised. “God go with you.”

“And you.”

Soon their friends were gone. Frightened, everyone looked at one another. “Daddy, it’s starting to rain.” Nine-year-old Patricia glanced anxiously at the sky.

Lolo followed her gaze. Clouds were gathering, and the sun had dropped, leaving a chill in the air. “Come,” he said, lifting baby Sonny into his piggyback sling. “Everything will be all right.”

But it wasn’t long before the wind picked up and rain pelted the little group. Soon everyone was soaked. The baby whimpered, and seven-year-old Teresita jumped as the trees swayed, whispering ominously. Lola grew increasingly exhausted. The monsoons had begun. How could they go on?

Soon the trail became so narrow that it could only accommodate one person at a time. To the right rose the cliff-side, straight up, stony and forbidding. To the left a precipitous chasm dropped to the overflowing river. The rain continued, pounding them as they struggled to stay upright on the slippery bluff. Finally Lolo stopped. “We’ll sit now,” he said calmly, although Patricia had seen the worry on his face before the last of the light faded. “Your mother needs to rest.”

Slowly the family put down their packs and sat against the rocks. It was dark now, Lolo realized. Even worse, somewhere in the last mile or two, he had lost his way. What should he do? His little ones were exhausted—how could they continue across those treacherous cliffs, especially as night fell? But they couldn’t sleep on the mountainside either, not with these heavy rains and soldiers trying to ambush them.

The wind grew wilder, and soon Lolo stood up again. “Perhaps we should crawl,” he suggested. “One hand on the ground and the other on the wall of the mountain for guidance.”

“Why don’t we light a torch, Daddy?” Buddy asked.

“We can’t, son,” Lolo explained. “The enemy might see it and shoot us.”

Teresita began to cry. “I’m scared, Daddy,” she sobbed as thunder rolled across the mountains. “I want to go home!”

“Hush,” he soothed her, patting her with one hand as he held the sobbing baby in the sling. “Stop crying, my little ones. This is not a good place to be caught by darkness and rain, but we must make the best of it. This situation calls for courage, not fear!”

“What can we do?” Lola asked, drawing four-year-old Buddy close to her.

Lolo paused. “We can pray,” he said. “Haven’t we always turned to heaven when things got bad?”

The children nodded. They had all read prayers from books, or recited those they had been taught. Of course they could pray. But now their father threw out his hands and lifted his voice in a way they had never heard before. “Cover us with thy mantle, oh Blessed Mother of God,” he pleaded, “that we may be saved from all evil and temptation, and from all dangers of body and soul!”

It was a wonderful petition. It had power and hope, and their terror seemed to recede, just a little. Lolo felt it, too. “I have an idea,” he said slowly. “It is too dark now to see ahead, but if we go in single file, each taking the hand of the person in front, we will all feel safer.”

Teresita wanted to be brave. But she trembled as the river beneath them roared. “I’m afraid, Daddy.”

Her father grasped her wet hand. “We will say the rosary as we walk, loud, so God can hear it over the storm! Buddy, you lead the way because you are the smallest and closest to the ground. Is everyone ready?”

“Ready.” Slowly the little group moved forward, water streaming into their eyes, clothes plastered to their shivering bodies. They would not make it. One child would trip, and all would lose their balance, plunging to the canyon below. “Hail Mary, full of grace.” Shakily they clung to the familiar biblical phrases, the reassuring cadence, the memory of their father’s impassioned plea. They would not make it. And yet . . .

The journey seemed to last forever. But as they approached a sharp turn in the path, Buddy was the first to see. “Mama! Daddy!” he shouted. “Look!”

The rain had abruptly stopped, the air seemed sweetly fragrant. And before them, as far as they could see, stretched a long line of luminous candles winding around the curve of the mountain and on to a wide plain. But no—not candles. For these lights were bouncing, dancing, twinkling like stars illuminating the heavens.

They were fireflies! Thousands, millions of them, all hovering about three feet from the ground. In their combined greenish glow, Lolo could see the path as bright as day, even the footprints of the refugees who had gone ahead of them.

Awed, Lola dropped to her knees in thanksgiving. The children laughed, catching some of the little insects and wrapping them in their handkerchiefs. “We can use them for lanterns!” Patricia cried, delighted.

Clutching the baby, Lolo stared at the scene, incredulous. In all his life he had never seen such a huge collection of fireflies in the same place, or massed in a precise pattern like this. Fireflies didn’t come during monsoon season. Nor did they hover close to the ground, preferring
instead the tops of trees. Yet here, hip-high, were an incredible number, waiting for his family, enclosing them—like a mantle of protection, he realized suddenly. A queen’s mantle, edged with gold.

There were more miles to go, but now the path seemed enchanted as the blessed fireflies lighted their way to the little village. Finally! They ran the last muddy yards and pounded on Father Alfonso’s door.

“We had given you up for lost!” the astonished priest cried, coming out to embrace them. “How did you do it? How did you cross the mountains in the dark, in this raging storm?” Patricia and Teresita looked up. The deluge had started again.

“Father, we can’t explain it,” Lolo said. “Look behind us and see this miracle for yourself.”

Father looked past Lolo. But there was nothing at all to see. No fireflies, no softened sky—nothing but darkness and streaming water. Lolo understood. “Has it been raining like this all evening, Father?” he asked quietly.

“It has not stopped at all, Mr. Joaquin,” Father Alfonso answered.

The following day, Father Alfonso called a meeting of the tribal elders, some of them over one hundred years old, and showed them the fireflies left in Teresita’s handkerchief. “Have any of you heard of this?” he asked. “Fireflies coming in a storm to light a traveler’s path?”

The elders conferred. They were experts on the ways of nature, and fireflies. There was no possibility of such a thing, they all agreed.

Such a verdict did not matter to the Joaquins. For they had seen, not only with physical eyes but the eyes of faith. Life would be difficult as they struggled to survive in their war-torn land. But they would not be alone. How wonderful were the ways of God!

"Rapunzel! Why aren't you at the fair?"

The book went on to spin the tale of a charmed girl named Rapunzel, who spent her days in the tower sewing dresses with a friend. She loved when the witch came to visit and teach songs, including one that made Rapunzel's hair grow longer. But tension arrived: One day, Rapunzel looked out the window and saw a fair in the village nearby. She wanted to go, but the witch was off tending to her garden and couldn't let her out. Fortunately, a prince riding by in his carriage called up to her, "Rapunzel! Why aren't you at the fair?"

This was not the fairy tale I vaguely recalled from my childhood - the one with the mother who gives up her child, the vindictive witch, the powerless girl trapped high above the ground. This new version was sanitary and safe in a way that modern parents will easily recognize. In an age when some families ban the word "killed" or come up with creative euphemisms to mask the death of goldfish, it's not hard to see why a toy company would reduce Rapunzel's story to its prettiest parts. Real life, presumably, packs enough trauma for children to think about later.

Read the whole story here

Joanna Weiss talks about the evolution of fairy tales from dark and frightening to whitewash, sanitized "feel good" tales.

Saint Superman, whence I found the link originally (are y'all reading him because he's really great, by the way), talks about what Tom and I often wonder ... has everyone forgotten what it was like to be a kid and experience deliciously scary stories?

When I was ten, I lived in Pan’s Labyrinth, a place filled to the brim with demons and witches, monsters and swords. I hoped my house was haunted, and I prayed for some supernatural thing to happen to me. I wandered in the woods between housing properties at night and at day, looking for some monster, king, or sage, or looking in the dark sky for some flash of alien light. It wasn’t something fearful; I’d read Herschel and the Hanukkah Goblins, and I knew that monsters could be fooled, even if they were not to be trifled with or ignored. It was people that scared me.

I know just what he means. I think, too, that people forget another valuable aspect to the dark side of fairy tales. Not only do children not process them as adults do, but the stories provide valuable lessons for children in dealing with problems later in life. When they are being picked on in the school yard, the last one chosen for baseball, or pointed out as a bad example to the whole class, these stories provide a cultural background that life often is not fair, bad things happen to good people, and that the little guy can win if they keep on trying. Do they think of these things consciously? Nope. But those stories are lurking in the back of their minds nonetheless with valuable lessons for life.

Worth a Thousand Words

Rose Window, Santa Maria del Pi Church, Barcelona
from Barcelona Photoblog, of course!

God Sends His Messages in Humble Vessels

In preparation for Monday's Angelic Blog Tour ... I am rerunning a few of my angel posts. Here's one that is a trifecta of angel stories from friends.

+++++++++++++++++++++

One of the many lovely cemetery photos taken by Blogging in Paris.

From my friend Don comes this wonderful story.

Something happened this week that reminded me of you and one of your posts awhile ago. I had a business lunch date at a restaurant in Silver Spring, MD. I had gone to confession on my way to the restaurant, and I took a new way across the MD ‘burbs to the place. The drive was lovely—Sligo Creek Parkway. I had driven past it often, and I was always curious about just how much the parkway lived up to the name. As it turned out, it was beautiful. It follows the creek up into Montgomery County; the parklands were thickly forested w/ trails and picnic areas. Just beautiful. We were also enjoying temps in the 70s with no humidity. So the sun roof was open, and old Lyle Lovett was playing in the CD player. I arrived in a fine mood.

My lunch date was late, so I hung around outside. As I waited, a very scruffy older man shuffled up to me. He had bad teeth. His remaining hair was uncombed. He wore an old t-shirt and torn jeans. When he got close, I smiled, and he said, “Your light is shining.” I wasn’t expecting an exchange, and I was kind of distracted. I had no idea what he was talking about—my car’s headlights? I smiled again, and said “Excuse me?” He smiled and repeated, “Your light is shining.” I realized that he was talking about me. I thanked him profusely, and he grinned and wandered off. I was touched, and he efforts seriously brightened a day that was already wonderful. ...

I thought immediately of your posts regarding angels, especially the one about the homeless man on the median. A wonderful lesson: God sends his messages to us in humble vessels. You could go on forever from there.

On the related subject of angels, A. Alve left this comment yesterday on one of my angel posts. It was too good to leave buried there.

A few years ago, I took a one-week vacation in Geneve, Switzerland. I was flying from Lisbon with a stop in Italy. When I planned my return to Lisbon, I booked an early flight from Geneve to Rome and a late flight from Rome to Lisbon. My idea was to spend some hours in Rome to pray at Saint Josemaria's tomb, where I had been 15 years earlier. I had to arrive in Geneve's airport really early and therefore I had to leave the place where I was staying and catch a bus to the airport before sunrise, when it was still really dark. I was travelling alone and I was concerned about my safety. I had to be at the bus-stop, with all my luggage when it was still dark, and that prospect frightened me. The night before I prayed and asked for a safe journey to the airport.

When I arrived at the bus stop, I was relieved to see that there other people there as well, in particular a woman with a long blond hair who had a reassuring and peaceful smile. When my bus arrived, I was happy to see that she took it too. She left the bus before I did, and when she did it, she nodded at me, she smiled and I heard her saying "Bonne prière", which means "Good pray". How could she know what the purpose of my trip was? I had never seen her before, nor had talked to anyone about I was going to do in Rome. Up to now, I have the clear feeling that she was my guardian angel, to whom I had prayed asking for protection. This is one of the happiest memories I have and I wish I could go back in time and experience that moment again. Now I know the face of my guardian angel.

Needless to say that I arrived sound and safe in Rome, where I prayed as I had planned, and in Lisbon.

To make a trilogy of humble vessels, Penni tells the story of how a 3-year-old boy inspired her to make a "Bible flip" that gives her God's answer to her innermost thoughts.

How can this be? This is one of my favorite places to be. I sigh inwardly and make my way out, pushing on the heavy wooden door to go back into the light. Quiet, silent. Disappointing. But even as I leave, I thank God for being with me, even if I can't feel Him. I thank Him for the steadfastness in being with me, even though I can feel no indication He is paying attention.

"At least I hope so," I thought to myself and returned to the clinic for the balance of the afternoon.

Rediscovering Catholicism Sounds Like a Fantastic Book

In Rediscovering Catholicism, Kelly has taken the complicated language out without dumbing anything down. He’s given me a resource that can be easily passed along to anyone - and most especially other Catholics.

He gives tips for the tough things - living an authentic life, say - that make sense AND can be put into practice easily, even as he explains other difficult concepts - like mortifications - in a way that made me see, immediately, how to apply them.

He talks of witnessing and salvation with an enthusiasm that’s hard not to catch. This book burns with a fire that comes straight from the Holy Spirit, and the practical advice Kelly gives is perfect for us normal folk. He writes it as a real person, not as someone who assumes that their canonization will take place five minutes after their death.

And it's free!

Read all of Sarah's review and you'll see why she's so enthusiastic.

As for me? Yes, I've ordered my copy.

Catholic Voter's Guide

Let us begin with some wise words from Pope John Paul II.

Above all, the common outcry, which is justly made on behalf of human rights—for example, the right to health, to home, to work, to family, to culture—is false and illusory if the right to life, the most basic and fundamental right and the condition for all other personal rights, is not defended with maximum determination.”

Christifideles Laici, no. 38

There are numerous places out there to help Catholic voters inform their consciences for the upcoming election.

I would like to direct people to these that cover everything pretty well as far as I can tell.

• The U.S. Bishops' Faithful Citizenship page that has links to informative pieces as well as a pdf of a scripture study, a novena, and (I find this curious) an iPod giveaway for those signing up on their Faithful Citizenship List. (And, yes, I did sign up ... so I guess it's working to some degree.)
  
  I would like to suggest that Catholics especially consider the guidelines in the Statement on Responsibilities of Catholics in Public Life when evaluating candidates. Although the bishops certainly direct this at politicians, the name of the document suggests that these guidelines apply to any Catholics in public life ... or who might be opinion leaders. I would think that this applies to bloggers also, especially those who are popular.
  
  
• Joint Statement from Bishop Kevin Farrell and Bishop Kevin Vann to the Faithful of the Dioceses of Dallas and Fort Worth
  
  
• The Catholic Pro-Life Committee has a Civic Action Voter Education Page. The linked documents have been approved by Bishop Farrell for distribution in the churches and organizations of the Diocese of Dallas.

Worth a Thousand Words

French Cottage, Lavender and Vineyards by Manuela Valenti

Signs and Mysteries: What You Didn't Know About that Fish Symbol

So we all know about why the fish symbol is used by Christians. Don't we? Well, maybe we do ... and maybe we don't. Or at least, maybe we don't know everything about it. As Mike Aquilina is ready and willing to point out. Love these details, don't ya know?

But we have not yet touched on the original and the deepest meaning of the fish. The fish is the primal symbol of the Holy Eucharist. One need not be Catholic to recognize this fact. Erwin Goodenough, an agnostic scholar at Yale University, wrote that the Gospel According to John — which he called “the primitive Gospel” — gives us “the earliest explicit acceptance of the fish as a eucharistic symbol and as a symbol of the Savior who was eaten in the Eucharist.” John does this, in his sixth chapter, by moving immediately from Jesus’ multiplication of the loaves and fishes to the Bread of Life discourse, His most famous eucharistic sermon. Jesus is the bread come down from heaven, multiplied for the multitude. At the end of John’s Gospel, we see the figures of fish and bread return as Jesus prepares a lakeside meal for the disciples (Jn 21:9). For the early Christians, all of these events prefigured the life-giving blessing that Jesus bestowed upon the Church. The Protestant scholar of archeology Graydon Snyder concluded: “the fish was, with the bread, the primary symbol for the Eucharist, the meal that developed, maintained, and celebrated the new community of faith.”

No text could make the association as clearly as one particular depiction in Rome’s Catacomb of St. Callistus. There we see two fish on a gravestone, one fish bearing bread, the other bearing a cluster of grapes: the eucharistic bread, the eucharistic wine . . . and the symbolic eucharistic fish.

Signs and Mysteries: Revealing Ancient Christian Symbols
by Mike Aquilina

Worth a Thousand Words

From Dark Fun by Mercer's Daughter

I really love those big spider webs. This brings back memories of sitting with my mother on her front porch in the night, watching a large garden spider fix up her web to get ready for the evening's catch. Mercer's Daughter has some wonderful photographs that take me back to time in the country (my favorite place, truth to tell). She's an artist so it isn't surprising that her photographs are great. Check her site out.

All Compline, All the Time

Ok, not really. However, The Anchoress has organized her compline prayer podcast into one handy spot to make it easy for everyone. Check it out!

Compline Podcasts

A Father Faces His Fears and Finds, "I now believe Genevieve is here for everyone. "

On the ninth day, she came home, and I began to realize that my feelings of fear and anxiety had changed in a way that no prenatal screening could ever have predicted.

I now believe Genevieve is here for everyone. I believe Genevieve is taking over the world, one heart at a time — beginning with mine. I believe that what was once our perceived damnation has now become our unexpected salvation.

When Gregg Rogers heard that their baby would have Down syndrome, he was terrified. Until she was born. A life-affirming story that reminds us that what we often fear turns out to be a great blessing. Read or listen to this short essay here at This I Believe.

Signs and Mysteries: Christ is a ... Dolphin?

I must admit that one of the pleasures of this book is finding out completely new and surprising symbolism that never would have occurred to me otherwise. Jesus as a dolphin. Hmmmmmm. But when it is explained, of course, it makes perfect sense and I will never look at a dolphin without remembering this.

Christian sailors likened Jesus Christ to the dolphin. Pastoral images of the lamb were remote from their experience. But they knew countless stories of dolphins as rescuers, guides, and friends. As the dolphins appeared in the ancient legends, so Jesus served in life: rescuer, guide, and friend.

Dolphins appear frequently on the walls of the catacombs. As symbols of Christ, they bear the souls of the saints to glory. Sometimes they appear crushing the head of a sea monster or an octopus, representing Satan. Often, they are shown twisted around a trident or an anchor, suggesting Christ on the Cross. In underground Rome there is even an image of a dolphin with an exposed heart.

The dolphin usually symbolizes Jesus Christ. In some instances, however, the dolphin seems to represent not Christ, but Christians. Thus the dolphin, like the lamb, holds an ambiguous position for the ancients: the lamb can represent Christ as “Lamb of God” — or the Christian as member of the Good Shepherd’s “little flock.” These dolphin-Christians appear sometimes in pairs, both swimming toward a monogram or other symbol of Christ.

Signs and Mysteries: Revealing Ancient Christian Symbols
by Mike Aquilina

In Honor of Padre Pio ...

... with whom I share a birthday ... and whose feast day I see it is today (read about his life at Musings from a Catholic Bookstore) I am rerunning this post.

++++++++++++

Padre Pio is one of my favorite saints and I see that I'm in good company. John Allen reports that Italian devotion to Padre Pio is reflected by three Italian hostages who were freed by U.S. Special Forces in Iraq on June 8.

On June 23, all three men, accompanied by their families, made a pilgrimage to San Giovanni Rotondo, the chief national shrine to Padre Pio, in order to give thanks to the Capuchin saint ... The three told reporters they had prayed to Padre Pio during their captivity and promised to make this pilgrimage if they survived.

"I'm very devoted to Padre Pio and I prayed often during our imprisonment," Cupertino said. "They too," pointing to Agliana and Stefio, "were united with me in prayer because they know Padre Pio."

In another twist, Cupertino's 10-year-old cousin Carmelina, after going with her parents to San Giovanni Rotondo on May 31, apparently returned home and wrote "freed" on a calendar hanging above the family telephone on the date of June 8 - exactly the day the Italians were liberated. She says the date came to her in a dream.

Worth a Thousand Words

Roe Deer

Taken by a brilliant wildlife photographer, Remo Savisaar. Click through on the link to see the sequence of photos and many more at his site.

Quick Looks at Movies and Books

How to Pick a Peach: The Search for Flavor from Farm to Table by Russ Parsons

"Eat locally, eat seasonally." A simple slogan that is backed up by science and by taste. The farther away from the market something is grown, the longer it must spend getting to us, and what eventually arrives will be less than satisfying. Although we can enjoy a bounty of produce year-round -- apples in June, tomatoes in December, peaches in January -- most of it is lacking in flavor. In order to select wisely, we need to know more. Where and how was the head of lettuce grown? When was it picked and how was it stored? How do you tell if a melon is really ripe? Which corn is sweeter, white or yellow?

Russ Parsons provides the answers to these questions and many others in this indispensable guide to common fruits and vegetables, from asparagus to zucchini. He offers valuable tips on selecting, storing, and preparing produce, along with one hundred delicious recipes. Parsons delivers an entertaining and informative reading experience that is guaranteed to help put better food on the table.

This description may make the book sound clinical but Parsons infuses it with details and personality that make us relate to what he writes about. The argument about whether fat or skinny asparagus are better? Been there. Argued that. To reduce the heat of a pepper remove the ... no, not the seeds ... the ribs, which is where the capsicum is stored. Aha!

For each fruit and veg he provides a very basic preparation method that we might not have considered. Then he goes on to a few more interesting recipes for each. Not too many, but just enough to pique our curiosity and taste buds and make us want to come back for more. Grade: **** 9 thumbs up.

Gumbo Tales: Finding My Place at the New Orleans Table by Sara Roahen

A cocktail is more than a segue to dinner when it's a Sazerac, an anise-laced drink of rye whiskey and bitters indigenous to New Orleans. For Wisconsin native Sara Roahen, a Sazerac is also a fine accompaniment to raw oysters, a looking glass into the cocktail culture of her own family—and one more way to gain a foothold in her beloved adopted city.

Roahen's stories of personal discovery introduce readers to New Orleans' well-known signatures—gumbo, po-boys, red beans and rice—and its lesser-known gems: the pho of its Vietnamese immigrants, the braciolone of its Sicilians, and the ya-ka-mein of its street culture. By eating and cooking her way through a place as unique and unexpected as its infamous turducken, Roahen finds a home. And then Katrina. With humor, poignancy, and hope, she conjures up a city that reveled in its food traditions before the storm—and in many ways has been saved by them since.

What this description perhaps fails to get across is that this is more about falling in love with New Orleans as a place than being a cookbook. In fact, there are no recipes included, although you may find yourself reading it with a pen and paper nearby for note taking on the numerous cookbooks and websites that Roahen mentions. That's what I did. Roahen communicates fully just how intertwined food and place are in this unique US city. I fell in love with New Orleans (doesn't everyone?) during the course of many visits and, to my limited knowledge, this book rings very true. It is a wonderful way to answer the question that Louis Armstrong put, "Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?" For a more complete review, go to Homesick Texan, which is where I came across this book in the first place. Grade: **** 9 thumbs up.

One Door Away From Heaven by Dean Koontz

“Geneva, even if the girl isn’t making up all this stuff, even if she’s in real danger, you can’t take the law into your hands.”

“There’s lots of law these days,” she interrupted, “but not much justice. Celebrities murder their wives and go free. A mother kills her children, and the news people on TV say she’s the victim and want you to send money to her lawyers. When everything’s upside down like this, what fool just sits back and thinks justice will prevail?”

This was a different woman from the one with whom he had been speaking a moment ago. Her green eyes were flinty now. Her sweet face hardened as he wouldn’t have thought possible.

“If Micky doesn’t do this,” she continued, “that sick b*****d will kill Leilani, and it’ll be as if she never existed, and no one but me and Micky will care what the world lost. You better believe it’ll be a loss, too, because this girl is the right stuff, she’s a shining soul. These days people make heroes out of actors, singers, power-mad politicians. How screwed up are things when that’s what hero has come to mean? I’d trade the whole self-important lot of ‘em for this girl. She’s got more steel in her spine and more true heart than a thousand of those so-called heroes. Have another cookie?"

UFOs, aliens, an empathetic dog, a crippled girl, and a host of supporting characters overcoming past traumas to reach out to others all are combined by Dean Koontz in a book that is the most compelling statement I have ever seen made about the right to life, no matter what one's condition. As always with his novels, few things are what they seem.Two basic plots run parallel before their heroes find themselves coming together to fight off a very evil villain. "What is one door away from heaven," is a question that one character has asked another since her childhood. The answer, along with the overall theme of the book, is enough to make us all examine our lives more carefully ... and be thankful that Koontz's writing reflects his beliefs so honestly. Grade: **** 9 thumbs up ... way up!

On the Waterfront

"Some people think the Crucifixion only took place on Calvary. Well, they better wise up!"

No one in Hollywood today has the guts to write a priestly role like the one Karl Malden played. Also Marlon Brando give us a fantastic look at someone who was raised without very little moral guidance and now has to find his own way amid much conflicting advice. I got this from the library and then was cooling off on it until Tom and I read the description on the back, which I share with you here:

Marlon Brando gives one of the screen's most electrifying performances as Best Actor in this 1954 Academy Award® winner for Best Film. Ex-fighter Terry Malloy (Brando) could have been a contender but now toils for boss Johnny Friendly on the gang-ridden waterfront. Terry is guilt-stricken however when he lures a rebellious worker to his death. But it takes the love of Edie Doyle, the dead man's sister, to show Terry how low he has fallen. When his crooked brother, Charley the Gent, is brutally murdered for refusing to kill him Terry battles to crush Friendly's underworld empire.

I was glad that I had recently read Good News Film Reviews' tip about spotting crosses and crucifixes right before watching this. You wouldn't think so unless you keep an eye out but there is symbolism all over the place. Truly an excellent drama about redemption. Personally speaking, I'm not sure I'll want to watch it again but am glad I watched it overall. Grade - *** Liked it despite the absence of flubber..."

Sunset Blvd.

"The poor dope. He always wanted a pool."

This movie starts off watching a dead man floating in a pool, with a voice over from the man himself. You then hear this quote and you remember that Billy Wilder's dialogue crackles with verve and multiple layers of meaning. We then flash back to see the story of Joe who is an aspiring screenwriter but on the run from repo men when he dodges into a driveway to throw them off the track. He finds a dilapidated house from the 1920's and Gloria Swanson as the equally dilapidated former silent screen star who lives in the past and is planning her comeback. Joe finds himself lured into becoming her rewrite man and gigolo.

It is an unforgettable film that is a blistering expose of Hollywood which still holds true today. Interestingly many stars of the silent screen had parts in this to add authenticity and Cecil B. DeMille actually played a much more significant role than we would have thought ... and did so with surprising gentleness and charm. Grade: **** 9 thumbs up.

For those interested in the Liturgy of the Hours ...

... The Anchoress has been podcasting various prayers either in chant or as plain reading. Highly recommended if that is your cup o' tea. I go in and out of it and when I'm "in" these are perfect.

I'm a Sucker for These Freeze-Frame Improv Projects

This one is in a train station in Osaka, Japan. I especially liked the two policemen checking out a group and the little girl at the end. Via Engrish Brog.

I'm Shocked.

Seriously.

I'm actually surprised that I'm so shocked by this political ad in which Senator Obama responds to Gianna Jessen's appearance in this BornAlive.org ad.

I really thought that I was unshockable in the political posturing arena but live and learn. I supppose I'm shocked because that ad seems to me as if Obama's kicking abortion survivor Gianna Jessen. Or calling her a liar. Or saying that her plea isn't genuine.

I don't like to blog politics, although around this time of the election cycle that becomes a bit more difficult. But I really am genuinely shocked. As I keep saying ... I know, I know.

I suppose they thought by positioning the ad to attack John McCain instead that would keep such impressions from coming through. No dice for me on that. Clearly the the Jessen ad is pointing at supporting McCain instead ... but it is not a McCain ad at all. He'd have done better to ignore the ad altogether rather than give people time to examine the various issues, it seems to me. Especially the one about the bills he voted against...

As The Curt Jester points out:

The truth is that he voted against Illinois' Born Alive Infant Protection Act four times and the last time he voted against a bill identical in wording to the Federal version. What is out of context? His ad quotes a Chicago Tribune article saying "None of those who voted against SB1082 favored infanticide." Well all of those who voted against the bill allowed infanticide and thought a dead baby is a better conclusion than challenging abortion in any way. They made a political calculation that a dead baby was better than any chance no matter how slim that it would affect abortion even if the bill specifically excluded that. For Obama infanticide is alright and truth is "sleazy." Of course Obama also called the NRLC liars for proving that he did vote against the bill identical to the Federal version which was passed 98-0.

If Obama doesn't think that is what those bills are about, he'd better get educated fast.

Pope John Paul I and the Telephone

Yep, I said John Paul I. This tidbit begins with John Paul II but slides backwards ...

... In addition to an ivory-colored telephone that served the private apartments and secretary's office, there was a gray telephone the Pope could use to call the Holy See's departments, and a black one with an outside line. Up until the era of Paul VI, the idea of making a direct telephone call to the Supreme Pontiff was inconceivable. John Paul II, however, sometimes took callas, but only after a three-way filter comprising the general switchboard, Sister Eufrosyna and Msgr. Dziwisz. Poor John Paul I, who to begin with had no idea how the filter worked, always answered everyone who called in the early days. One morning, journalist Bruno Bartoloni from the AFP (Agence France-Presse), who also contributed to Gazette de Venise, wanted to contact his secretary, but got the Pope himself on the line! He was so stupefied that he started off apologizing profusely and offering all sorts of good wishes before taking advantage of the opportunity to conduct a short interview, which naturally enough was a great scoop.

Pope John Paul II: An Intimate Life: The Pope I Knew So Well

"I'm a PC." Brilliant.

Why Microsoft let the "Mac vs. PC" ads run so long without any answer is a puzzlement. This is the perfect answer in a lot of ways. It pushes back at the PC user stereotype and the sheer variety of people and occupations points out the PC's versatility.

Not to mention, it's entertaining. The geek blogs are already playing "pick out the celebrity." As Tom observed, "The beautiful thing about competition is that we can all sit back and be entertained for a long time." By the way, the person at the beginning is a Microsoft engineer who is a dead ringer for the PC in the Mac ads. That's funny in itself.

Here's a short but different version.



Yes, if you're an ad junky, just one ad is never enough!

By the way, I am a Mac and a PC. We had one lying around work that wasn't being used and it is now my podcasting machine, thanks to Tom. Speaking of Tom, he's a Mac and a PC and a Lennox user and depends on his Palm to help him keep them all straight. No wonder every single person we know (and I mean everyone) calls him whenever they have a computer question.

Tom reminds us, "While it's all good fun, it's not a religion." Some computer fanboys out there need to cool down a little.

Not that I think the people 'round here need reminding about that!

Much thanks to SFFaudio ...

... where Jesse says of The Wonder Stick:

A prehistorical science fiction novel that does everything but invent the wheel. The “wonder-stick” of the title, is a real invention which provided an unparalleled quantum leap in human technology.

Jesse points out that The Wonder Stick is the original revenge of the nerds and then provides a nice musical video accompaniment to set the tone for the book ... you can see it here as well as read his complete review.

Thanks for da props, Jesse!

Solzhenitsyn Was Right

"A decline in courage may be the most striking feature which an outside observer notices in the West in our days. The Western world has lost its civil courage, both as a whole and separately, in each country, each government, each political party and of course in the United Nations.

"Such a decline in courage is particularly noticeable among the ruling groups and the intellectual elite, causing an impression of loss of courage by the entire society. Of course there are many courageous individuals but they have no determining influence on public life."

He saw this in 1978. It is so clear today that he was right -- but how many of us saw it then?

Our intellectual elite today has only the courage of bullies. They can jump on individuals who dare to depart from their absurd and contradictory dogmas, calling them vicious names and doing all they can to silence them. But they haven't the courage of their own convictions.

Read the Orson Scott Card's entire column, Nobody Was Listening.

Aaargh, matey!

Friday is talk like a pirate day but now that I have twice written my next entry in the "30 Movies You Might Have Missed" series ... and have them blown away by Blogger ... I'm ready to do a bit more authentic pirate-talkin' than I should. At least around Happy Catholic ...

So perhaps tomorrow I'll give it another try. Aaargh!

Pope John Paul II: Those White Habits He Wore

An amusing tidbit from a book I recently received ... I've been reading these to Tom and thought that y'all might like them too.

And, yes, I realize that I've fallen into that trap of dipping into way too many books at one time. I've got to pick out one and finish it!

In the meantime, enjoy this ... I really never thought about what the Pope must go through to keep those white habits unmarked throughout the day.

According to 12-century ritual, white clothes symbolize innocence and charity, whereas red clothes, which the Pope only wore outdoors, recall the blood of the martyrs, authority and compassion. It was naturally unthinkable for the Holy Father to have the slightest mark on his various white habits, despite the numerous activities that made up his day. As one of his former colleagues confided to me, "At working lunches or official meals, he never ate salad, spaghetti or tagliatelli so as to avert the risk of a fatal drop of vinaigrette or sauce falling on his immaculate capelet. In private, however, he did not hesitate to tie a large napkin around his neck."

Pope John Paul II: An Intimate Life: The Pope I Knew So Well

Worth a Thousand Words

Stained Glass Like Blue Tears

Taken by D.L. Ennis at Visual Thoughts

The opposition from the good.

I took a break from my In Conversation with God books for a few months. After reading them for seven years, I finally had gotten a bit tired of that part of my routine. However, I found myself missing them and picked them back up this week. How timely I found this reading from today, what with all the things that it seems we often cannot agree upon as well as the extremely low standards of courtesy held in many places.

It is difficult to understand calumny or persecution -- either open or veiled -- in an era in which one hears so much about tolerance, understanding, fellowship and peace. But the attacks are more difficult to understand when they come from good men, when Christian persecutes, no matter how, another Christian, or a brother his brother. Our Lord prepared his own for the inevitable times when those who would defame, calumniate, or undermine their apostolic work would not be pagans or enemies of Christ, but brothers in the Faith who would think that with these actions they would be doing a service to God. (cf John 16:2). ... It is particularly painful for the Christian to whom it happens. The motives of the calumniators are usually due to human passions that can distort good judgment and complicate the clear intention of men who profess the same faith as those they attack, and who make up the same People of God. There are at times jealousies that supervene, rather than zeal for souls, rash allegations that appear to derive from envy, and make it possible to consider as evil the good being done by others. There can also be a kind of blinkered dogmatism that refuses to recognize for others the right to think in a different way in matters left by God to the free judgment of men. The opposition from the good usually shows itself in antipathy towards some brothers in the Faith, in a more or less masked opposition to their work, and a criticism that is as destructive as it is ill-informed. ...

The moments in which we encounter opposition and difficulties without exaggerating them are particularly propitious for exercising a whole range of virtues: we should pray for those who do evil to us, even without our knowing it, so that they may leave off offending God; we can strive to make amends to the Lord, to be even more apostolic, and to protect with exquisite charity those weaker brothers in the faith who on account of their age, their lack of formation, or the special situations they find themselves in, could sustain a greater harm to their souls. ...

In Conversation with God - Vol. 4 - Ordinary Time, Weeks 13-23

To Think That I Just Discovered This Comic

Wondermark
(Click on the cartoon to enlarge or click through to see it at Wondermark)

Much thanks to David Malki for permission to share these with everyone. Via DarwinCatholic who hit me where I live with the cartoon they shared.

Worth a Thousand Words

Papaveri Rossi by Manuela Valenti

You know, you think that you're just ranting away in the "relative privacy" of someone's comment boxes and then ...

... you get outed.

And then ...

you get outed again.

Regardless, I stand by my "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"

You can tell it's serious because of all the exclamation marks. I usually abhor any past one. I'm low-key that way. Can you tell?

How do you get amazing taste in your meals?

Actually, it's pretty easy.

"Ankh if you love Jesus" bumper stickers

Is there anything better than good word play?

No. No, I don't think so.

Just one more reason to check out Signs and Mysteries by Mike Aquilina. No, he's not making the puns, but you'll find the fodder there. (ha!)

Now This is What I Call a Keyboard!

Why have this?

When you could have this?

There's just somethin' about steampunk, isn't there? Ahhh ...

(I must stop here and thank Tony at StarShipSofa podcast for hosting the series of nonfiction segments. In one of those, I was introduced to the whole steampunk concept ... thereby enabling me to get one up on the girls, who hadn't heard of it at all.)

The original steampunk keyboard can be seen here.

If you'd like your own, this enterprising gentleman will be happy to produce one for you.

Though perhaps you will want to wait for him to finish developing ... The Archbishop!

Worth a Thousand Words

Watercolor Study for Del Sol by Belinda Del Pesco

"Why are we doing this again?"

I'm still not sure about how these commercials are biting back at the "PC and Mac" ads but they are highly entertaining if nothing else.

Bill Gates and Jerry Seinfeld get "real."

Good News for Movie Lovers

Jeffrey Overstreet has a new monthly column at Christianity Today, Through a Screen Darkly. Observant readers, with loooong memories, might remember Overstreet's book of the same name which I loved.

Overstreet not only clues us in to The Island, a move that it sounds as if Christians will love (no not that Island with Ewan McGregor ... this is a different Russian movie) but also ... even more excitingly ... tells us about a movie distributor, Film Movement, that offers movies too often missed by American distributors.

He set out to find buried treasure all over the world so he could mail it out to moviegoers, inspiring questions and conversation. "We don't want our movies to be available only in the big cities," he says. "Our movies are available theatrically in cities like New York and L.A., but there are a lot of people who don't have an arthouse theater near them."

Along the way I saw names of several movies in the article that I am going to look for. Read the article and check out the links. Sounds as if we can look forward to some modern forgotten classics being pointed out.

Gov. Palin and Senator Clinton address the nation ... on SNL

Remember folks, this is Saturday Night Live ... it isn't in line with their crudest stuff but if you're easily offended then skip it. I thought it was hilarious. (You have to watch the 30 second ad and then it should start.)

Worth a Thousand Words

A bike called Gazelle by Edward B. Gordon

Here's How Big Hurricane Ike Is

The reporters in Galveston are just about now venturing outside because there are still dangerous gusts of wind. We have been feeling the effects in Dallas this morning already with rain and the wind getting steadily higher. Not bad yet, but we'll be staying in this afternoon for sure.

That's a danged big storm.

Still keeping all in the path in our prayers. Especially Hannah in College Station...

A Still, Small Voice: An Alternative to Ecstasy

I began rereading this last night and it is chock-full of common sense. I had forgotten how really good it is so am glad that I was prompted to pick it up again. For one thing, when I first read it I was a relatively new Catholic and wasn't familiar with many of the revelations to which Father Groeschel refers. Now that I am better informed, I can appreciate Groeschel's insights even more.

Naturally, I'll be sharing some of my favorite bits along the way. For instance, I have always remembered this solid advice from the introduction:

An Alternative to Ecstasy

In my final chapter I offer an alternative to unusual and extraordinary ways of knowing the things of God. There is a normal, everyday opportunity open to those who seek God, called religious experience. This is the action of grace operating in the context of a human life. If we allow it, grace will elicit deeply-moving responses and become a powerful source of virtue. this is the meaning of the words of Saint Therese of Lisieux:

"To ecstasy, I prefer the monotony of sacrifice."

Notice she does not use the passive verb "accept." She prefers the plain fulfillment of one's duties. the active reception of the innumerable signs of grace that surround us, the faithful carrying out of responsibilities, and the willingness to work on daily repentance make a symphony of religious experience, which is appreciated by those who are willing to take the time and make the effort. Perhaps many who are clinging to or seeking the reassurances given by extraordinary experience might be much better off if they knew how to grow and be enriched by the ordinary experience of God and the Holy which are available to all. Saint John of the Cross, the mystical Doctor of the Church, who warned people to assume that extraordinary experiences came from the forces of evil unless the opposite could be proved, would enthusiastically agree.

An appreciation of and sensitivity to ordinary religious experiences frees a person from the possibility of serious error and spiritual price. Therese of Lisieux hardly ever had extraordinary experiences, and yet her life was filled with a profound awareness of the presence of Divine Love. She even regarded falling asleep at her prayers as religious experience. The monotony of sacrifice, fidelity, and generosity may be the safest and most productive of all religious experience, and it is there waiting for us all.

A Still, Small Voice:
A Practical Guide On Reported Revelations
by Father Benedict J. Groeschel, C.F.R.

Did I Miss You? Yes ... YES I DID!

Only the best fudge cookies ever.

EVER!

So. Much. Better. Than. Oreos.

Hands down.

And now I see that they have been revived to celebrate the 100th anniversary.

Excuse me. I have to get to the store. Right now.

Hurricane Ike ...

Hmmm ... I think that I'll drop by the store on the way home, rather than waiting until tomorrow.

Along with the rest of the Metroplex no doubt.

Hurricane Ike on Storm Pulse.

Praying for all those in the storm's path and those rescue workers out there. As well as for the reporters on the scene. I think I might know one of them, depending on how they were assigned to cover this.

Prayer Request

For all those in the path of Hurricane Ike ... especially those at College Station, including my darling Hannah at A&M.

More at Aggie Catholics where they are battening down the hatches.

September 11: Our Memories and Our Determination

Much of this is reposted and somewhat updated from previous years because I think this stands as the tribute I want to make. I will update it as I come across other tributes.

+++++++++++++++++

• A movie for today: World Trade Center
• A book for today: The Onion Files

+++++++++++++++++

I see that the year before last, I got an email last week mentioning that a deadline was September 11. Maybe it's silly but seeing that date attached to a deadline shocked me. No reason not to have it be a deadline but it seemed ... somehow ... irreverent to have the usual business of the day on that date.

Last year a similar thing happened, except that since I remember September 11 was a Tuesday and happened around 9:00 in the morning, I was stunned momentarily when making a vet appointment for our dog. I commented on the fact that it would be September 11 and the young receptionist had an indifferent silence and then merely encouraged me to continue making the appointment, which stung even more than the memory.

+++++++++++++++++

To me, it is sad that the best tribute I saw in the newspaper both last year and this year was a paid Open Letter by a local car dealer (website no longer available). It is too long for me to include in its entirety.

... But I also recall that for a few short weeks, America came together. Republicans, Democrats and all the other parties were united in the message GOD BLESS AMERICA. I saw more American flags flying than I had ever seen in my life. People who had not owned a flag in years flocked to stores to put one in front of their home, their businesses and in the back of their pickups. for those few short weeks, we put aside our personal problems and focused on helping those killed in this brutal attack.

Now six years later, I wonder where all those flags are? My guess is that most are in their closets gathering dust along with those feelings we felt on that fateful day. ...

Find time today to reflect on the day we were attacked. At 9:03 AM today, the time of the last plane crash in Pennsylvania, all my employees will gather in front of my dealerships for a moment of silence to honor those who innocently died that day. I hope you'll find the time to do the same or feel free to join our family ...

+++++++++++++++++

That time is always mixed for me with images of hospitals and personal emotions in another way because Tom's father had a massive stroke two days after September 11. We left the girls with friends and drove to Houston for what proved to be a harrowing time. No matter what else was happening, the television in the hospital was on, whether with the sound on or not.

Here is a sample of what others were living through as we watched in horror.

In my dress and non-sensible shoes I climbed (my grandmothers will forgive me) in the least dignified fashion, over the barrier. I crouched next to a man with a green striped oxford cloth shirt. I helped him cut it with my Swiss Army Knife scissors so he could put a piece over his nose and mouth. We shared water. He tried to use my cell phone to call his wife or girlfriend. It didn't work. Everyone started praying. Jesus' rang out all around me. I didn't care. My prayer was to see Andrew and Aaron again. This moment was the only time I thought I was going to die.

I kept thinking about the crying woman with the screaming baby. I kept hearing babies crying--no adults...how do you protect a 6-month old from all of this damn ASH?

It was hard to breathe. I couldn't always see the water, so close by, maybe eight...ten feet down? It was so dark. I thought, very carefully and precisely:

• I could jump in the water if the fire comes.
• I could get some debris and hold on and float to Brooklyn...I think that's where the current goes from here.
• There is no debris to use. I haven't seen anything larger than my fingernail fall to the water.
• I could jump in the water and swim.
• I don't know how cold the water is. How long could I last? How fast is the current? How much deeper would my breaths be in cold water? Is it better to stay on the land?
• How do I get back to Brooklyn? My husband and baby are there.
• They're going to bomb the Brooklyn Bridge next aren't they?...and then the Statue of Liberty...and maybe The Empire State Building and Central Park...if they're trying to break us, they'll go there. They'll hit the places we love.

We heard the fog horns of the ferryboats. The man to my right panicked and thought the ferry was going to hit us. Everyone got up fast and then realized we were better off under the edge again. We shared our water bottles and started climbing back down. Silence closed in around us and I could hear tiny pieces of debris and ash plink into the water.

At some point I looked up and to my left and could see the white disk of the sun above me. I tapped the Muslim man next to me and pointed up. Our eyes smiled at each other over our handkerchiefs. Briefly there was blue in front of me then it was gone again.

excerpt from Heather Ordover's firsthand account
(she was a teacher at a school next to the towers)

+++++++++++++++++

For some reason, the image that sticks with me from driving down there and back, aside from all the American flags, was the beat up pickup truck with the gun rack and Confederate flag stickers that had "We are all New Yorkers today" written on their windows. For a Texan to write that ... well, at that moment we realized that the terrorists had no idea what they had done.

+++++++++++++++++

NPR's StoryCorps recorded many remembrances of those who lost loved ones in the September 11 attacks. Go to the link and select the September 11 category to listen to them.

“He was tough on the outside—big, big, soft guy on the inside.”

“When I met Michael I was 14 years old.”

“When he was five, we went into a candy store…”

“When I used to hug him, the whole world disappeared…”

“Her eyes sparkled to me. One day they were blue; the next day they were green.”

“He was a high adventurer.”

“His sister idolized him.”

+++++++++++++++++

The Anchoress remembered last year ...

I haven’t forgotten. I have too many firefighter friends to ever forget. I haven’t forgotten watching the tape of the first Tower burning and saying to my pal, over the phone, “it’s a beautiful clear day; no plane is going to accidentally hit the WTC - this is NOT an accident,” and both of us gasping because, just as I said it, the second plane hit. I haven’t forgotten because my husband was on a plane that morning, traveling on business, and for a little while we didn’t know what flights we were looking at, exploding before our eyes. Those of us who had loved ones in planes heard about the Pentagon, and about a plane going down in Pennsylvania - there were reports (false) that a car bomb was discovered outside of the Supreme Court. My friend called me back, pleading and in shock - “what is happening, what is happening in our country!” Finally the phone call from my husband, trapped in Atlanta, and I was able to call my kids schools and tell the offices, “please, please tell my kids that their father wasn’t on any of those planes, that he is alright!”

+++++++++++++++++

... and she remembers this year too.

As I do every 9/11, I began this morning praying the Office of the Dead, from the Liturgy of the Hours. The psalms this year seemed to speak poignantly of the torment of the victims, and of those who waited, and waited, and who now wait to be re-united in glory. This year, I have made a podcast of the prayer for anyone who wishes to use it....

She has some links to other bloggers and you should go read all of what they wrote, just as I did. With the seeming vacuum in our newspaper and regular "business as usual" going on, it is nice to know that under it all plenty of people remember.

+++++++++++++++++

Who can read this article (link no longer active) by Peggy Noonan in painting with words and not be swept back in time?

Flight 93 flight attendant Ceecee Lyles, 33 years old, in an answering-machine message to her husband: "Please tell my children that I love them very much. I'm sorry, baby. I wish I could see your face again."

Thirty-one-year-old Melissa Harrington, a California-based trade consultant at a meeting in the towers, called her father to say she loved him. Minutes later she left a message on the answering machine as her new husband slept in their San Francisco home. "Sean, it's me, she said. "I just wanted to let you know I love you."

Capt. Walter Hynes of the New York Fire Department's Ladder 13 dialed home that morning as his rig left the firehouse at 85th Street and Lexington Avenue. He was on his way downtown, he said in his message, and things were bad. "I don't know if we'll make it out. I want to tell you that I love you and I love the kids."

Who among us does not stop, whether a tribute is seen or not, and remember where we were, what we were doing, at that heart-stopping moment when everything changed?

I turn on the TV and watch as the plane slowly flies into the Tower.
Hail Mary, full of grace
My daughter wanders downstairs, shoes in hand,
Turns to look at what has me transfixed on a weekday morning.
The Lord is with thee.

Read it all here

+++++++++++++++++

A time when even the most public figures struggled with what it meant to be "normal" and "go back to work. When we remembered what united us more than what divided us? When we felt our humanity.

I plucked these photos from those found at The Doctor is In.

I am very glad that Project 2,996 happened and that I saw so many heartfelt tributes done for so many different kinds of people. It reminds me that the number of people who died is not just a number. Each was a soul, valuable in the eyes of God and to the people all around them. Valuable to us.

"All of you saw today what happened in New York. Consider how many firefighters died today. You will never be able to claim that you don't know what this job is about. Every single day you go out there you don't know what's going to happen or if you'll make it home. Those who responded today planned to go home after their shift...and instead, we're going to be watching funerals of firefighters for weeks. You know what this job is about and you know the risk. So after witnessing something like this, if some of you, or all of you, choose not to come back tomorrow, we will all understand."

Adoro te Devote

+++++++++++++++++

I continue to be struck by the hard, ongoing work done by others to keep us safe, of the many months of patient work that go in to discover conspiracies still underway.

The 4th of July isn't the day the 13 Colonies won their independence from Britain; it's the day they declared their independence. On the 4th we celebrate their eventual victory, but more than that we celebrate the resolve, vision, and determination which led to that victory.

Today, September 11th, we remember those thousands of innocent American civilians who died in the brutal attack on the Twin Towers. But 9/11 is more that. It is the day we resolved, as a nation, not to knuckle under to the terrorist threat -- and more than that, to stomp it out.

We must not turn 9/11 into a simple day of remembrance. We have not earned that blessing.

We must not lose our determination.

The View From the Foothills

+++++++++++++++++

We remember not only to honor the victims. We remember also to fuel our determination which can sink low after a seemingly long "safe" time. We need also to remember that time when the things that divided us seemed so much less important than the things that unite us. When we were one people, when hurting any of us hurt each one of us.

We must never forget.

30 More Movies You Might Have Missed: 6-10

Continuing yesterday's list. In no particular order, just as they occurred to me.

6. What's Eating Gilbert Grape

The movie that convinced me Leonardo DiCaprio could act.

Johnny Depp is a teenage boy who loves his 400 pound mother, his mentally retarded brother (DiCaprio), and his restless sister but the weight of their combined needs results in crushing responsibility. Stuck in the backwater of tiny Endora, he sees no way out of his situation. The answer to his problems is not what one would anticipate and is as understated as Depp's performance in many ways. Along the way, we are shown each person in greater depth and as we do the quirkiness becomes less important than the different aspects of humanity. Life affirming and it will stick with you.

7. A New Leaf

One of Tom's favorite movies and one that I am glad he insisted I watch. Matthau is a wealthy playboy and confirmed bachelor who has run through all his money. To keep afloat, he decides to marry a wealthy woman and murder her later. Elaine May, who also wrote and directed, plays Matthau's clumsy and adoring bride. He discovers she is being cheated blind by her household staff and, while setting things straight, begins to find a different facet of himself. Not that he gives up on the murder scheme though. Hilarious and perhaps Matthau's best performance.

8. Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang

A film that mocks film noir cliches while at the same time being a very satisfying mystery/action/buddy noir-ish film in its own right. Robert Downey Jr. is a small-time thief who stumbles into an acting audition when on the lam from the cops. He aces the audition and is sent to Hollywood where he soon finds himself neck-deep in a murder mystery involving his childhood sweetheart. While shadowing detective Val Kilmer to learn more about his acting role, Downey Jr. becomes heavily involved in a second mystery as well. Great fun, with fast-talking dialogue that will keep you on your toes. A nice companion piece to Brick; though completely different in feel, both movies mimic noir style while still standing on their own two legs.

9. King Kong (1933)

Reject all imitations. The original King Kong is one of my all-time favorite movies and a true classic in its own right. It is a simple story: intrepid filmmaker, Carl Denham, leads an expedition to Skull Island where they discover a 50-foot gorilla who becomes enamored of Ann Darrow (Fay Wray). He is captured and brought back to New York City as the "8th wonder of the world" where he inevitably runs wild with Ann clutched in one hand and meets his death atop the Empire State Building. The skill of the movie makers is such that it is still thoroughly enjoyable some 70 years later. Fay Wray has a scream that could stop a freight train; you could hear it over practically anything that the movie threw at it. The animation was star quality at the time and you soon discover that it is not the animation but the story that carries a movie. (My review is here.)

10. Double Indemnity

A famous film that I, nevertheless, have to beat people over the head to watch. The screenplay is by director Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler and the dialogue crackles with iconic film noir style.

Fred MacMurray is the insurance salesman who comes up with the perfect murder scheme to rid femme fatale Barbara Stanwyck of her husband's annoying presence. Edward G. Robinson is MacMurray's boss, a wily insurance investigator who feels that things don't quite add up. Told in flash-back, the film still maintains dramatic tension the entire time. Ironically, all three stars did not want to do the film. MacMurray and Stanwyck because they were cast against type as evil. Robinson because he was not the main star ... yet he carries the film at the end as his line sums up the movie perfectly.

Coming Friday (hopefully):

Next: 11-15

The Onion Files

Listening to The Onion Files from Podiobooks certainly is timely. Set in the months right after the terrorists' attacks on the Twin Towers in Sept. 11, 2001, it follows a retired U.S. intelligence agent, Jim Buchan, and his computer whiz-kid son, Mike, as they combine skills and uncover another terrorist plot that is about to be put in motion. The story is told in a very straight-forward fashion and is read without embellishment by the author, Major General Val Pattee. The Onion Files refer to a layered computer program designed to wreak havoc across the United States. It is similar to one that Jim had foiled many years ago and he suspects the same terrorist is generating it. The story also takes us into the heart of Al-Qaeda and their recruiting tactics within the United States so that we see both sides of the story unfolding.

As I mentioned, this story is told in a very straight forward fashion, yet there was something about it that I just could not stop listening to. I ran through it in about five days, addicted as chapter after chapter revealed a new layer of the onion. Unexpectedly, about halfway through the book, the plot suddenly began revealing Pattee's own onion layers as unsuspected directions were taken, throwing the reader off guard.

As the father-son team travels the world to meet with other intelligence workers, Pattee reveals not only his depth of experience (just read his bio ... very impressive indeed) but his love and appreciation for many of the places he has visited such as Turkey and Russia. As well, I found a sheer depth of patriotism and love for basic American citizens that threw me off guard in feeling my own patriotic response and remembrance of the terror of Sept. 11 well up inside. That was when I realized that I was experiencing this story in the same week when Sept. 11 would be remembered once again. It is a fitting tribute to the intelligence workers, military, and everyone who has put their life on the line in helping to keep us safe.

As well as a thumping good read (or listen).

Worth a Thousand Words

Hope and Beauty

Taken by the folks who know all about both, at Full House, Full Hands, Full Hearts. This looks best big so click on it or click through the link above for a larger view.

Now Here's a Reality Check on Medjugorje ...

Years ago, I asked the eminent Mariologist, the late Dominican Father Frederick Jelly, what he thought of Medjugorje. He said, "I wish people got as excited over the Eucharist."

Ouch!

We've got Jesus Christ, the Son of God, one of the three persons of the Holy Trinity ... body and blood, soul and divinity ... right here with us in person in every Catholic church.

He doesn't get half the wonder and excitement that Medjugorje seems to generate. Let's face it, He doesn't get it even from people who don't worry about visions that much.

We should all do a little reality check perhaps? I am including myself here, believe me.

There's more good stuff where that came from in David Alexander's post, Mary's Birthday, which is where I got that quote. He also recommends the book I like by Fr. Groeschel, A Small, Still Voice. I knew I liked that man with a black hat...

Pharaoh Tutankhamun: "Hey, Where Did All My Stuff Go?"

... And where did my statue of Anubis go? Do you know how hard it's going to be to find another three-foot-long wood carving of a recumbent jackal? It's going to be impossible, that's how hard it's going to be, because it was carved for me by my grandmother Queen Nefertiti, who last I checked died in 1330 B.C. I was going to use that statue. I was going to use all of this stuff.

Now what am I supposed to do? ...

If anyone reading this has seen any of the stuff described above, please return it to my tomb, located in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt, immediately. Please, I seriously need this stuff back. Thank you.

Pharaoh Tutankhamun is an Egyptian king who ruled from 1333–1324 B.C. He can be reached at tutank1341@gmail.com.

[wiping tears of laughter from my eyes] Heavens to Betsy, The Onion can be funny sometimes.

Warning: language alert for the story ...

Signs & Mysteries: Incorporating History into the Sacraments

I like the excitement of thinking of how early Christians and those ever since have understood the reality of salvation history as part of our history. Also, the idea of these symbols being lovingly passed down to us by our Christian forebears is like something out of a mystery novel that engages us in every way possible ... heart, mind, and soul.

But the art of nascent Christianity intended to “incorporate the events of history into the sacrament.” What does that mean? It means that, by participating in the rites of the Church, each and every Christian was stepping into the stream of salvation history. Each was taking his or her place alongside Abraham, Moses, and David, Peter and Paul and the martyrs. God’s saving action was not a matter of the long-ago past or a vague and distant future, but a reality of the most immediate present — it was really present, and experienced in the baptismal water, the oil of anointing, and in the bread and wine of the liturgy. This is the overarching theme that runs through the vast array of symbols we find on the walls, lamps, rings, medals, cups, caskets, coins, and flasks of Christian antiquity.

This was more than theory, more than theology, more than the excitement of sharing a code or cracking a code. St. Cyril of Jerusalem talked about the difference these symbols made in the everyday spirituality of ordinary Christians. “The Savior comes in different forms for the benefit of each person. To those who lack joy, He becomes a Vine; and to those who wish to enter, He stands as a Door. To those who need to offer up their prayers, He stands as a mediating High Priest. To those who have sins, He becomes a Sheep, that He may be sacrificed for them. He becomes all things to all men, keeping what He is in His own nature. “

The lamb on the lamp, then, was a reminder of a truth at the heart of life — a truth worth dying for.

============

We have tried in this book to provide a key to understanding not only the early-Christian symbols, but the early Christians’ experience of these symbols as well. We wanted to recover the freshness and urgency of the original images — to show the symbols as they first appeared and explain how they “worked,” using the words of the early Christians themselves. This material will help to demonstrate the significance of each particular symbol in the life of the Church, in history, and in the lives of individual believers.

In depicting the symbols, we tried, again whenever possible, to model our illustrations on the real archeological remains of the era of the Fathers. We have, however, restored them to some semblance of their original condition — again, to enable modern readers to experience the symbols not as artifacts but as personal messages, from one Christian generation to another.

Signs and Mysteries: Revealing Ancient Christian Symbols
by Mike Aquilina