There's Always Something...

Ode to Stonehenge...

When life gets to the place where it begins to lose mystery and perspective, I find Stonehenge never lets me down. We never got to go there, but I've studied it intensely and find it touches the heart of my love for pottery, religion, and the good earth.

Nothing Could Be So Still...

I've been reading Dan Albergotti's new book of poetry, Boatloads.

It is one of those books that keeps right on pushing its way into one's heart and provoking memories long dormant. Here's one that wont let me go.

AFFIRMATION OF FAITH

I believe there is nothing to be done
for the squirrel that's been dying
all morning on my gravel driveway.

Yet he refuses to stop moving his tail.
I believe that if I try to say nothing
the slow, steady movement of this world

will still say something, like a squirrel falling
from a high limb with a graceless thud.
I believe in the father who could not feel

the world moving the day a sparrow
flew into the tall plate-glass window
of the living room. From his easy chair,

the father uttered the grunt of vague annoyance
and surprise he gives to all experience not routine.
I believe I stood and walked to the window

and watched the sparrow close her eyes
evenly over four minutes while her small head
became more and more perfectly framed

by an expanding halo of clear fluid. I believed then
that the halo would continue growing even
if a neighborhood cat were to spirit the carcass away,

that the night's forecast showers might spread the
bird's diluted life throughout the back yard.
"What are you doing?" my father finally blurted.

turning his annoyance on my silent vigil. "Nothing,"
I said to the back of his head and sat back down.
I do not believe my father can feel the movement.

I believe the squirrel's tail has stopped moving.
I do not believe a special providence
makes the world say anything. The squirrel is dead.

I believe nothing could be so still.

I Was Once A Republican...

I know. I know. A grizzled old Liberal like me shouldn't confess stuff like that. But it once was a good fit. I was happy with it.

But some real nut cases began to appear on the scene. Joe McCarthy. Phyllis Schlafley. (sp?) Richard Nixon. It got to be an embarrassment. You see, I was a liberal-type Republican and there was plenty of room for the likes of me under the tent.

Today I look at the grand old party and hardly recognize it. Talk about nut cases. Richard Cheney. Sarah Palin. Rush Limbaugh. John Boehner, John Kyle, Antonin Scalia, Donald Rumsfeld, Sheriff Joe Arpaio, etc. These folks who project themselves as the "voice" of the Republican party are actually the voices of the extreme right wing of the American scene. I really do not want them to take over the Republican party. It almost makes me want to sign back up again to make this opposition conviction heard - except that I don't have the time, the patience or the guts to fight folks with this much power and such mean-spiritness. Still, I can and do wish the best for the party and hope for them better days. They deserve much better. They need to do better.

Besides, I'm in love with the new President, his family -  and the liberal, concerned spirit of so many contemporary Democrats. Think I will continue to belong, support and vote Democrat. It's a very happy fit!

My 1st Tomatoes of the Season...

Brandywines, Carmellos, Red Pears, Honeybunch - to share their names. The Brandywines are heirloom tomatoes, brought stateside from Europe in the 1800s. They are the big, rather ugly, but extremely tasty ones. I raised them all in self-watering pots, Growboxes, from seed. The date of seeding was New Years Day.

We refer to them proudly as our "babies."

Very proud!

Since 1950, This Mass Keeps Breaking Into My Life...

and i hope it ever shall.

Things We Don't Deserve...

Among the Things He Does Not Deserve

by Dan Albergotti

Greek olives in oil, fine beer, the respect of colleagues,
the rapt attention of an audience, pressed white shirts,
just one last-second victory, sympathy, buttons made
to resemble pearls, a pale daughter, living wages, a father
with Italian blood, pity, the miraculous reversal of time,
a benevolent god, good health, another dog, nothing
cruel and unusual, spring, forgiveness, the benefit
of the doubt, the next line, cold fingers against his chest,
rich bass notes from walnut speakers, inebriation, more ink,
a hanging curve, great art, steady rain on Sunday, the purr
of a young cat, the crab cakes at their favorite little place,
the dull pain in his head, the soft gift of her parted lips.

"Among the Things He Does Not Deserve" by Dan Albergotti, from The Boatloads. © BOA Editions, 2008. Reprinted with permission.

Garrison Keilor's blog features this delightful poem this morning. And a happy Sunday to you all!

Obama at Notre Dame...

How proud I am of our prophetic, wise President.

Andrew Sullivan makes this comment and quotation from today's speech at Notre Dame.

I found his Notre Dame commencement speech deeply Christian. I was struck by two passages. The first a simple statement of fact:

Understand - I do not suggest that the debate surrounding abortion can or should go away. No matter how much we may want to fudge it - indeed, while we know that the views of most Americans on the subject are complex and even contradictory - the fact is that at some level, the views of the two camps are irreconcilable.

The second was a simple statement of faith:

In this world of competing claims about what is right and what is true, have confidence in the values with which you’ve been raised and educated. Be unafraid to speak your mind when those values are at stake. Hold firm to your faith and allow it to guide you on your journey. Stand as a lighthouse.

But remember too that the ultimate irony of faith is that it necessarily admits doubt. It is the belief in things not seen. It is beyond our capacity as human beings to know with certainty what God has planned for us or what He asks of us, and those of us who believe must trust that His wisdom is greater than our own.

This doubt should not push us away from our faith. But it should humble us. It should temper our passions, and cause us to be wary of self-righteousness. It should compel us to remain open, and curious, and eager to continue the moral and spiritual debate that began for so many of you within the walls of Notre Dame. And within our vast democracy, this doubt should remind us to persuade through reason, through an appeal whenever we can to universal rather than parochial principles, and most of all through an abiding example of good works, charity, kindness, and service that moves hearts and minds.

I believe that these sentiments will resonate with Catholic of good will and serious purpose. When we are called by God to oppose the evils of abortion or torture or terror, we need to remain civil and fair and attuned to the calm that comes from knowing that we fight the good fight. I have not always succeeded in this. But I do know that if we do not try to do better, we will advance neither peace nor justice.

On Having Something to Say...

Regular readers may note that I haven't blogged much lately. My rule of thumb is to only write when I have something to say or something to share. Usually, as a life-long preacher, this is no problem.

Recently though I've had a dry spell. Not sure why. Dickens' death? Minor health issue? General minor periodic burn-out? Just good old laziness? I don't know. And it doesn't really matter.

Anyway, I want to assure you that I'm still around, alive and kicking. And should have my writing/sharing discipline back on an even keel before long. Keep those cards and letters coming.

You've Got a Friend - James Taylor Tribute

Oh, yes...

My Mother Was Delightfully Different...

Mother was something else. She was beautiful, athletic, artistic, controversial, emotional, profane, irreverent, unforgettable and wonderfully quotable.

She died at 69. Too many cigarettes. Too much booze. She was eaten up with cancer. Refused surgery or radiation. She's seen and done enough. Was ready to go.

I've never known anyone faintly like her. There was a lot I didn't like about her. But there was a lot more that I did. She could be thoughtful to the extreme. She could be thoughtless. She could show limitless patience. She could fly off the handle much too quickly.

Mother had nothing for formal religion. But she blubbered uncontrollably when Christmas carols started playing. She attended our eldest son's baptism. Wore dark glasses so no one could see her weeping.

She was a softie at heart. A little bit of mom found its way into my emotional and physical d.n.a. I look back at my years with mom with relish and satisfaction. She was special. She was a hell-raiser with the best of them.A kindred spirit.

She loved her grandchildren and struck fear into their hearts. Intimidation was the first rule of co-existing with grandchildren. I'll drink to that! She also knit countless sweaters and other goodies for them. They still have the little things! Treasures from great, loving hands.

I loved and love my mother. I wish I had shown it more. We were too busy having occasional clashes of antlers and showing each other our tougher than thou sides. She was a better mother than I was a son.

But all things work out in the end. I treasure her memory. When I get together with my sisters we inevitably share stories about this wonderful character we were privileged to call our mom. We always, to quote her, "Laugh, I thought I'd die. Thought my pants would never dry."

What a woman. Damn, I'm proud.