Dad 2 eight

Happy Birthday, America. BO has a present for you.

2009-02-05T11:53:00.004-05:00

Today is my 67th birthday and I cannot really believe it. When my Dad died in October, he was 93. I was reflecting on the changes he experienced from 1915 until 2008. Woodrow Wilson to "W" Bush. I am happy that he was spared BO. Unfortunately, we will not.

If BO has his way and the printing presses run off another trillion dollars or so of monopoly money, we will wind up just like Zimbabwe. They just announced that they will issue a new Zimbabwe "dollar" that has 13 zeros "removed." They ran out of room on the paper currency for all those pesky "0's." By the way, 50 billion Zimbabwe dollars buy one loaf of bread. That's what happens when governments are allowed to play monopoly with the money supply.

To be really fair, all of the blame for the debacle to come cannot be blamed on BO, it is just the historical fact that he will be at the helm of the USA Titanic when it strikes the iceberg. And we know that the Captain is always at fault.

When I was at Norfolk Academy in the 70's, we had a Board member who was a very savvy guy. He told me to never trust banks and the government to take care of the money supply. Now this guy was a banker..and he therefore really knew what he was talking about. He told me that he always had 25% of his assets in hard money (READ: GOLD)

"Don't invest all of your eggs in the dollar denominated system basket," he advised, "because historically, "fiat" currencies will fail. It is just a matter of pinpointing the when." And the "when" officially began at the time Nixon separated the dollar from any tie to gold. The currency's fate was sealed. "Fiat" is a Latin phrase which means ..."let it be done." And when government runs the presses, that is just what happens. Economic activity doesn't create the $$, but, it is the will of political parties who say "poof ...let it be done"....and it is done. That is why the dollar is doomed.

Acctually, Bernie Madoff hasn't done any thievery greater than what the government does by creating hyper inflation through the printing of fiat currency. They rob the thrifty..they steal from the poor schmuck who trusted in their treachery and tried to save and invest. The one who has all of his eggs in the government currency basket is the loser. The one who says, "to Hell with the system," and buys a little gold as long as someone will take his paper dollars in the exchange, he is the winner.

A few years ago, it took 40 ounces of gold to buy the DOW. Today, it only takes around 10. Will it come to a point that it may only take just one ounce?.... You know where my bets are.

Happy Birthday, America

BOnomics

2009-01-26T18:29:00.004-05:00

So we throw another trillion dollars that we don't have into the economic fray. This is President BO's recommendation. The current deficit already is astronomical. Has it cured the recession? Here is the dirty little secret. It is not about economic recovery. It is about consolidation of economic and political power in the hands of a Democratic regime. Following the political strategy of his hero, Sol Alinsky, President BO is quickly changing the landscape of America while Americans, unfortunately even some of my own children, bask in President BO's messianic emanations.

Already several executive orders have been issued that threaten our security and imperil the lives of more unborn babies. To me, President BO is hitlerian in his support of a world -wide Holocaust. And BO has his own Goebbels...Pelosi. Yes, as this ardent Catholic announced, the "stimulus" package" has a few billion in it for "contraceptive family planning" services. So Planned Parenthood gets a bailout.

I once read a report that at the Washington headquarters of the US Conference of Catholic Bishops, BO campaign stickers far outnumbered those supporting the pro-life Republican side. It's not like they didn't know his intentions. BO made no secret of his plans. And now barring miraculous intervention or a change of BO's heart (for which I pray daily), no unborn child will be safe in the Socialist States of America or in the world, for that matter.

As I was telling one of my children who is so enwrapped in BO euphoria, there is only ONE issue, and that is LIFE. Stimulus..economics..taxes..socialism, though important, are side issues. The fight is on for LIFE... a battle that must be waged by those who treasure it against this unapologetic purveyor of the CULTURE OF DEATH.

2009-01-02T09:24:00.001-05:00

Nativity

O Mary, this day
pray Jesus be born in me,
as was borne in you.

Thanks to the generosity of Ray and Suzanne Sinclair, St. Michael's Ukrainian Greek Catholic Chapel has moved out of the Carolina room at 11 Chatham Lane and found a new home. The Sinclairs had a 1700 square foot office space that had been vacant for several months and is making it available to St. Michael's. They belong to the Orthodox Church of America and travel all the way to Raleigh to attend the Divine Liturgy. They may be joining us for typica services.

Fr. Deacon Daniel (Gordon) Karen and I spent the better part of Wednesday and New Year's Day getting the chapel set up. The iconostasis, altar, chairs, icons etc were all moved to the new space. Fr. Mark Shuey, our pastor from St. Nicholas in Raleigh, came down yesterday to celebrate the Divine Liturgy. The space once occupied by a martial arts studio was now filled with incense and the Holy Divine Presence of the Lord Himself.

We are praying that Fr. Deacon's bishop will ordain him to the priesthood soon. This would allow us to have the fullness of the Divine Liturgy and probably would encourage eastern and orthodox Christians in our area to begin attending. Who knows what God has planned. Our only goal is to pray each day to be in the center of what He wants to do here in the Sandhills.

Christ is born. Glorify Him!

Dozier Family Letter- 2008

2008-12-23T11:21:00.003-05:00

Silence

O earth, be silent.
Cease your din. Listen. Hear! 'Tis
the cry of a Babe.

Dozier Family
Christmas Letter 2008

On October 24, 2008, my Dad (Gordon Dozier, Sr. known as "Dyda") passed away in the manner in which he lived: quietly, peacefully and surrounded by loving family. A few months before he died, I asked him if he had any regrets during his 93 years of life. He said, "I've had a wonderful life. If I had to do it over again, I wouldn't change a thing. I have no regrets." Would that we could all say the same.

Gordon and Eva: In August, Eva and I moved to our new home at 15 Village by the Lake, So. Pines, NC 28387. Eva is still in Infection Control at Scotland Memorial Hospital and I am still p/t parish bookkeeper. VBL is a retirement community. No noise allowed. That means no "motorcycles." However, they gave me a dispensation as long as I keep mine out of sight! I enjoy blogging. Check mine out at Dad2eight.blogspot.com . Eva's hobby is spoiling her grandchildren. She takes off every Friday so that she can spend time with them.

Gordon, III and Karen (Daniel, Alex and Katie): Gordon's family moved to Pinehurst last spring and is renting our former home. The Hartford allows him to work from home. He was ordained to the diaconate in the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church last June. He serves at his parish in Raleigh, and is holding Typica services (Communion service) at a chapel he made in his home. Karen is teaching Pre-K at the parish school, JPII Catholic School. Daniel is home schooled and works at Chick-fil-A, Alex is at Pinehurst High School and works p/t at the Gulley Gdn. Cntr. and Katie is at JPII School.

Kristi and Jonathan Bernstein (Jack and Eva): Kristi is working in fund raising for the YMCA in Dallas. Jon is still at American Airlines. Jack is in Kindergarten. Little Eva had a large neuroblastoma tumor removed in February. In October a recurrence necessitated 4 rounds of chemo. The tumor has shrunk by 95%!! She is such a trooper and never let this slow her down. Please pray for Little Eva. You can follow Kristi's adventures as wife and mother at her blog: goodnightmom.blogspot.com

Jonathan: (Jonathan and Jacob): Jay has had his final interview in Atlanta with Chick-fil-A. It is likely he will be getting his own store in the spring. At present we do not know where that will be, but he is getting his home ready to sell. His fiancé, Boo Yung, just got her BSN from UNC-G and will be visiting her family in Korea for a few months while Jay finds out where he will be located. His two boys will be visiting for Christmas. Jonathan (15) will now be living with Jay.

Angel and Graham Gulley (Hannah, Claire, Davis): The great news for Angel and Graham is that they are expecting #4 in June. They have chosen to be surprised about the sex of the child until delivery. Graham runs marathons. Angels runs mini-marathons, works part-time at the Gulley Garden Center and seems to run unending carpools. Hannah and Claire are at JPII School and Davis runs the house.

Benjamin (Loralei) Ben is in the nursing program at Sandhills Community College. He has about 18 months left and is living with us while he is a student. His great sadness is that his daughter lives in Indiana. His hobby is collecting DVD's, which he lends to all of the family. His collection is so extensive that we say we are going to get a DVD from "Benbuster."

Nathaniel and Vanessa: Nathaniel and Vanessa are living in Greensboro. He blogs occasionally at quidquidlatinedictumsitaltumviditur.blogspot.com (As he notes, anything in Latin sounds intelligent.) He is working at the Double Tree Hotel as the night auditor. He and Vanessa are expecting the arrival of little James Nathan Dozier at any moment.

John-Paul: JP is a student at UNC-Asheville. Uncharacteristically for a Dozier, he is a Math Major. He wants to be a teacher and I think he would make a good one. His hobbies include computer gaming and war gaming as part of the UNC-A Air soft team. This evidently is a big thing and his team has won several events.

Mary B: MB is in her second year at UNC-Greensboro. She is in the Hospitality Management program. Mary wants to go into the Air Force and is working to that end. MB just turned 21. As one of her siblings observed, she can now do legally what she has been doing anyway since she was 16. Her Christmas break will be spent in Boston, at home and then…London (as in England.)

This is the Christmas that all of the kids try to come home. So far it looks like that is what will happen. This means much laughter, stories that begin, "Hey, Dad…remember when …?" and the wonderful chaos that is family. God Bless.
The Doziers

Advent

2008-12-22T12:40:00.002-05:00

All my selfish works
are ruins I stand upon
to see your coming.

2008-12-19T22:09:00.002-05:00

Change

To live is to change
To have changed often is to
Have become perfect.

John Henry Cardinal Newman

May You Always Have A Song

2008-12-11T19:29:00.005-05:00

Several years ago, I joined the Moore County Choral Society. Over 100 voices strong, the Choral Society does a wide range of musical offerings. We just finisehd our Christmas concert, which is always a favorite with the community. It is basically a group made up of seniors, although a few "yutes" have joined in the last two years. A "yute" is anyone at least a decade away from Medicare.

Our Director is a very gifted and talanted teacher in the County school system, Ann Dorsey. She is able to bring out the very best in each of us. Her leadership style combines strenth, testiness and humor in a happy blend. In fact, she could have been my eighth grade teacher, Sr. John. This devoted nun had a mission from God to always bring out the best in her charges, without ever using corporal punishment.

A recent study on aging noted that those who sing have a life expectancy of at least 8 years longer than those who don't. You don't have to sing "well" to get this bonus, it just requires that you "sing." I have found that singers have a more positive outlook on life and that they evidence an inner joy, especially when they are in song. Singing involves the whole person: body, mind and spirit and they are all exercised when you make your own personal "joyful noise."

We close each concert with a wonderful and simple tune called, "May You Always Have a Song." The lyrics are so moving that I am generally in tears when we reach the chorus. And at the end, my lips are moving for the conductor's benefit...but there is absolutely nothing coming out. It's embarassing, actually. Here are some of the lyrics, at least the part where I lose it:

...May music be a part of the joy within your heart,
May you feel it deep within your soul.
May the gentle harmony of a tender melody,
Make your spirit whole.

May your life be filled with song
And may your friends all sing along.
May your heart be true and strong,
May you always have a song....
May your always have a song.

I weep as I write the lyrics. I am truly hopeless.

2008-12-07T21:33:00.002-05:00

The Conception

The serpent's head crushed.
New Eve mystically conceived.
Immaculata!

2008-12-05T23:25:00.002-05:00

Communion

For I both rejoice
And shudder as I commune
With God Who is Fire.

St.Symeon the New Theologian

2008-11-28T09:47:00.001-05:00

Doubts

Doubts are small chestnuts

Falling in autumn but crushed

Underfoot by faith.

Catherine Doherty

Barak Blues

2008-11-21T13:19:00.004-05:00

"Oh the tears are aflowing
Evah since I heard the news.
My heart is so broken...
In pain from head right to my shoes.
You ask me what the heck's the mattah?
I got those Barak Obama Blues!!!"

The last month has been an emotional roller coaster ride for me. After recovering from the trauma of my Father's death, I had to suffer another loss on November 4th: The death of America as we know it and the election of Obama.

Although I was not a "McCain guy," the major determinants of my vote are the issues of life: especially unborn life. McCain is reasonably pro-life..Obama? Well "the issue of life is above my pay grade," said he.

As if that were not enough, he carries with him enough socialist baggage to change this country for the rest of my life, anyhow! On the matter of life, it is shocking to read that 52% of those calling themselves Roman Catholic voted for Obama. Raymond Arroyo of Eternal Word Network reported that sources who should know claimed that Obama got the vote of a majority of American Catholic Bishops. If that is the case, there has never been so much heresy among the bishops since the Arian Heresy of the 2nd century when almost 95% of the bishops were under the influence of the smooth talking, messianic persona of Arius.

And so, I have declared myself to be an "OFZ" (Obama Free Zone). I do not want to see him...I do not want to hear him...I do not want to even think about him for the next four years. This will not be easy since he seems more omnipresent that all those pictures of Joe Stalin in Russia and Mao Tse Dong in China. However, since I am a Christian and in obedience to the Sacred Scriptures, I will pray for the SOB!

2008-11-21T13:19:00.001-05:00

Barak

"Rulers of the earth
Belong to the Lord, Our God.
Even Obama.

Ps 47

2008-11-07T12:57:00.000-05:00

Sight

For what the eye sees,
Is completely dependent
On what the heart feels.

William Barclay

2008-10-29T20:25:00.001-04:00

Saints

Saints are not statues.
They are real people in whom
Jesus lives again.

Dyda's Last Moments

2008-10-27T09:21:00.003-04:00

This is a note that my son, Fr. Deacon Daniel, wrote to several of his friends regarding the last moments of my Dad.

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

Last night my grandfather fell asleep in the Lord. I was there at his bedside when he died, and I can say without equivocation that it was truly a beautiful death.

The evening was spent with almost all of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren gathered at my parent's home. While there, we had a pizza party, with adults and children coming in constantly to sit with and speak with "Dyda", as we called him, to thank him for his fatherly love for us all these years and to tell him that we loved him and to offer prayers, as well as to periodically give him ice chips and swabs because the oxygen he was on was drying out his mouth (he was unable to receive any fluids because of his congestive heart failure and it would have accelerated his death as well as made it very painful for him).

At one point, while on my own with him, I brought a ciborium with the Holy Gifts in it, held the Ciborium in my right hand and placed my left hand on his head.
I asked the Lord, through whatever He chose to do by virtue of my apostolic ordination, to bless him and give him peace, and to take him home when the time was right. He had already received the Anointing of the Sick a few weeks ago along with the Apostolic Blessing from Father Mark, so I knew that he was prepared. I set aside the Ciborium on a table next to his bed and my son, Daniel, came in. He said hello to Dyda, at which point I said to my grandfather, "It's ok, Dyda.
It's ok." Dan thought I was saying this because I had startled him, but I told him that I said this to tell Dyda that it was ok to go home. Dan told him that he loved him and left the room, at which point I went to sit and continue to pray the Jesus Prayer on the other side of his bed where he was facing.

I went to grab his hand, and my mother, who is a nurse, came in and said "Gordie, I think he is gone."
(His was taking a breath about once every 15 seconds
before.) She checked his pulse, and I noticed his chest was no longer moving, even though the oxygen was still running.

I held his head and told him, "Dyda, it's ok. Go and be with Jesus. Go and be with Bama (his wife) and Denny (his son). We love you so much, Dyda." At that point the rest of the family came in and we grieved the loss of such a noble man, like noble Joseph, but rejoiced over his 93 years of life and his peaceful translation into eternal life. I then prayed the Melkite prayers of the Memorial Service, entrusting him to Abraham's bosom.

Across from his bed I saw the signed poster that we made for him just a few weeks ago when he returned home from 90 days of Physical Therapy that read "Welcome Home, Dyda!" Two weeks ago he looked at that sign and kept repeating it over and over again in his room, "Welcome home, Dyda!"

Now we were all there, along with all the saints and angels, to welcome our great patriarch into eternal life. It was a truly graced moment for all of us.

Welcome home, Dyda!

In ICXC,

Fr. Deacon Daniel

The Big Guy Goes Home

2008-10-25T19:24:00.005-04:00

The following is the obituary of my Dad, Gordon Dozier, Sr. It will appear in the Norfolk paper.

Gordon Hubbard Dozier, Sr. died peacefully, surrounded by his family on October 24, 2008 at his son’s home in Southern Pines, NC. Known as “Dyda” to his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, Gordon was born in Norfolk, Virginia to the late Mary Hubbard Dozier Caleo and the late Dennis Dozier on March 22, 1915. Due to the premature death of his father in 1919, Gordon and his older brother, Bernard, moved to the Masonic Home near Richmond, Virginia. Dyda would frequently relate to his grandchildren stories of the wonderful life and cherished friendships he had while growing-up there.

In 1937, he married the love of his life, the late Dorothy Orebaugh Dozier. Together, they had two children, Gordon H. Dozier, Jr. and the late E. Dennis Dozier. Dorothy (or “Bama”) and Gordon were married for 42 wonderful years. A few years after her death, Gordon was reunited with his high school sweetheart, the late Alice Woody, whom he dated for 12 years.

In 1935 after a brief period of service in the Civilian Conservation Corps, Gordon went to work for the Virginia Electric and Power Company in Norfolk, from which he retired as Supervisor of the Gas Meter Department in 1980 after over 45 years of service. From retirement until he moved to North Carolina in 2004, he was an active member of the VEPCO retiree club, The Gas House Gang, and a frequent attendee of the Wednesday Morning Bible Breakfast at Calvary Temple.

An avid sportsman, in his younger years, Gordon played semi-professional football, baseball and amateur basketball. His intensity and physical prowess in athletics earned him the well-deserved nickname of “Rough House.” In his later years, he learned to love golf and played three days a week. He even shot his age when he was 83! There wasn’t much he could not do!

He is survived by his devoted son, Gordon Hubbard Dozier, Jr., his beloved daughters-in-law Eva Dozier of Southern Pines, NC and Trisha Dozier of Norfolk, VA, 10 grandchildren: Gordon Dozier, III of Pinehurst, NC, Kristi Bernstein of Dallas, Texas, Jonathan Dozier of Aberdeen, NC, Angel Gulley of Pinehurst, NC, Nathaniel Dozier of Greensboro, NC, Benjamin Dozier, John-Paul Dozier and Mary Dozier of Southern Pines, NC, E. Dennis Dozier, Jr. of Crewe, VA, Gregory Dozier of Norfolk, Va. and 15 great-grandchildren.

A memorial service will be held on Sunday, October 26th at 5pm at Boles Funeral Home in Southern Pines. An 11:00am funeral service officiated by Rev. Lamar Sentel is planned for Friday, October 31 at Calvary Temple in Norfolk, Virginia. Interment to follow at Woodlawn Memorial Gardens. A reception will follow the interment at Calvary Temple. Memorial gifts may be sent to First Health Hospice Foundation at 150 Applecross Road Pinehurst, NC 28374.

When recently asked if he would change any part of his long and full life, Dyda said, “I had a wonderful life and if I could, I would do it all again. I have no regrets.”

2008-10-24T11:39:00.001-04:00

Refuge

My God is THE rock.
I love you,O Lord, my strength
You are my refuge.

Though assailed by foes,
the Lord freed me and saved me...
Because He loves me.

Psalm 18

Forever the Big Guy

2008-10-23T17:49:00.003-04:00

When Dyda came home from the nursing home, he immediately went under the care of Hospice. I cannot say enough about these people. Such caring..such attentiveness..such compassion.

It appears that despite our best efforts, Dyda, The Big Guy, will be taking his final journey home. They estimate two to three days. However, they don't know the Big Guy. Even though he no longer takes food or hydration, he still has the will to go on.

Gordon, (Fr. Deacon Daniel) brought the Blessed Sacrament by last week and I have kept it ( I hesitate to call the Blessed Sacrament " it "... It is HIM!!) so I kept HIM close by my Dad as he continues to labor for each breath.

I was at Mass the other day and glanced at the statue of Our Lady of the Eucharist which is close to the altar at St. Anthony's Church. Mary is holding the Infant Jesus who has a chalice and host. She looks lovingly at HIM. And so I asked Mary to give me the strength she had at Calvary, as she watched her Son labor for His last breath. I know she will.

So many thoughts run through my mind. They are happy thoughts of family..of vacations..of playing sports, in which he whipped my A$% in everything, even when he was in his mid- sixties.

As I sit here and write this, I hear the sound of the oxygen machine and my Dad's labored breaths...one after another. Such a man of strength, a man whom I love dearly and who will forever be,... "The Big Guy."

2008-10-15T13:45:00.002-04:00

Prayer

Prayer depends not on
What we say or feel, but is
A matter of love.

St. Teresa of Avila

2008-10-10T21:55:00.001-04:00

Genesis

For we are like God.
Speaking words of spousal love,
We bring forth new life.

2008-10-03T15:59:00.001-04:00

Voluntas*

Voluntas Dei
Sit in omnibus atque
in temporibus.

*Let the will of God be done at all times and in all things.

Total Money Makeover

2008-10-02T15:40:00.004-04:00

His name is Dave Ramsey. I discovered him two months ago while I was surfing my XM talk radio channels. His message is simple: Live debt free, and then you can truly live. That means no credit ...no credit cards..no car payments... ultimately no mortgage payments. Sounds preposterous and un-American, but I am a new believer.

I was so impressed, I went to his web site Daveramsey.com and bought 7 sets of his books and CD's for my 8 children. ( One of my daughters is already married to a Dave Ramsey.) Had I known of this guy 30 years ago, my life now would be a great deal different. Although I don't have a large amount of debt, what I do have, is going to go. I am following his plan of Total Money Makover. Two accounts got paid off yesterday and the plastic cut into small pieces. I went to WalMart and got a small accordion file into which I put cash for the week: A portion each for gas, food and spending. In other words I am doing what my very thrifty, Great Depression suvivor Mother did for more than 60 years. My,how things come around.

If you try his plan, you'll be "living like no one else, so that you can live like no one else." (Another one of his phrases.) I'm driving my kids crazy. I am like a former smoker, a reformed alcoholic, like someone "born again." Go to his web site. Listen to him on your radio. See for yourself.

On his show, people call in with their testimonies of how they have become debt free. The stories are varied but all very exciting. Then Dave asks the caller to get the family on the phone, to count down and yell as one: "WE'RE DEBT FREEEE!!!"
In the background, Dave plays the famous scream of Mel Gibson in Brave Heart: FREEEEEDOM!! Applause sounds and the music celebrates the joy of the formerly debt enslaved family. And so, I am on the program. I am committed. I am anticipating the day when I can yell the same and hear Mel's cry of victory: FREEEEDOM!!!!

2008-09-26T17:52:00.001-04:00

Tears

Are those tears I see?
Weep not for the unspent days.
Soon, there will be joy!

The End Game

2008-09-25T09:56:00.003-04:00

I have written earlier about the experiences of my family in dealing and coping with the current state of health for my Dad, affectionately known as Dyda. After his stroke in May, followed by more than 3 and one-half months in a nursing home, Dyda came home in an ambulance to be greeted by cheering family members carrying signs and displaying balloons.

It was a bit overwhelming for him, to be sure, but he managed a slight smile and greeted one of his grandchildren with his standard, "Hello, Sugar Baby." Yes, the old man was back. Not exactly as strong and stalwart, but the man was back.

He had spent what must have seemed to have been an eternity in St. Joseph's. Each time we visited, he would say in his Southern drawl, "Go get my shoes..get my slacks on and let's get the Hell outa here!" When we gave him the discharge date of September 13th, the mantra immediately stopped. Dyda knew he would be going home.

Hospice has been wonderful to us. They provide weekly nursing visits and other patient/family support. Through Medicare, they arranged to get him a hospital bed, what's called a "Gerry Chair" and a Heuyer Lift, to help us get him into the chair. They also supply some meds, diapers and bed pads. We could not do this without them.

Of course, I am always looking for a deeper meaning in my circumstances. Since I firmly believe that there are no accidents in the Kingdom of God, every event to me is a theophany. Now it is very hard to see God's Will in all of this, especially when I am changing Dyda's diapers. I recently told him, "Dyda, I could retire in style if I were being paid by the pound of cr#$!" He gave me his stock toothless grin.

As I tend to him, I call to mind the words of Bl. Teresa of Calcutta, as she spoke about ministering to Jesus in the guise of the poor and suffering. And that is the image that sustains me. I was reading an article recently about the Tears of God. Yes, God does weep. When a tear welled up in my Dad's eye last week, I knew I was seeing God weeping. It was a tender moment, actually, and I was overwhelmed with a sense of love for this suffering man who now represents the suffering Body of Christ.

The end game is tough. Unbelievably tough. Not physically, necessarily (though it is exhausting sometimes) but spiritually. We are challenged by trying to understand the reason for it all, to peresevere in our faith in the absolute preciousness of the mystery of the suffering Christ in His Mystical Body. It is the mystery of Love.

My friend Helen lives in a nursing home in Virginia Beach. She was my bookkeeper for more than 20 years at Norfolk Academy. We have managed to stay in touch over the years and I spoke with her just last week. She was telling me about one of the 100 year old residents named, Joan. Joan was married for 75 years until her husband recently passed away. He was a General in the Maine Corps and they had been devoted to each other all their married life. What is so remarkable about Joan is that she looks so young. She is always dressed to the "nines," has her hair properly styled and always has a smile and a cheerul word for others.

Recently, Joan was interviewed by the local newspaper. Of course, they asked the standard questions about the "secret" of her longevity, health and youthful demeanor. Joan did not give the standard responses of, no beer nor smoking or drinking 3 daily glasses of prune juice or the like. No. Joan looked squarely at the reporter and said just a few words, "It is because I was loved." That, my friends, says it all.

2008-09-19T16:55:00.004-04:00

Psalmody

Lord. I love Your Psalms
Which in my darkness, become
A light to my path.

Ps 119

Dozier Family Update from St. Eva the Good

2008-09-19T16:55:00.003-04:00

We have had a very busy month:

Dyda came home after several months in a nursing home for rehab from his stroke. He is doing well although he is totally bedridden and total care. We are adjusting and he is too. Such a great man. No complaints as we learn how to use all his equipment to take care of him.

Gordon and I have moved to a retirement community and we now have a new address and only cell phones.
Gordon cleaned the house yesterday and when I got home from work he shared with me how happy he was over how little time and energy it took to get it done (we have downsized about 1300 sq feet)
I continue to work with every Friday off to play with Angel's kids.

Gordon, III and his family are settling into our other house. It is great to have them here with us. Our Carolina Room there is now a beautiful chapel and he has a communion service there every Sunday at 3pm. Most of you know he was ordained a Deacon this summer. Karen is teaching at our local Catholic school, where Katie attends, Alex is adjusting very well to public school and Daniel is still home schooled and preparing for Eagle Scout. Gordon just got a promotion at Hartford Life: Program Manager for enterprise professional development.

Kristi and her family, in Dallas, are preparing for Eva's chemo treatments. Kristi keeps us all update on her blog: goodnightmom.blogspot.com Kristi is doing very well at Dallas YMCA, having coordinated a major fundraising event this week Jon just got back from Asia for American Airlines. Jack is doing well with his schooling and taking care of Eva. Angel is heading out to be with them as Eva goes into the hospital on this Sunday to begin her first round. Thank you all for your prayer support

Jay is waiting to hear about getting his own store for Chick-fil-a and doing a great job of marketing at our store in SP. Boo will be finishing her nursing bachelors degree from UNC this December and continues to work in the ICU at Duke. Jay's boys are doing well in school this year.

Angel and her family stay busy with school and sports for the kids,: soccer, swimming, tennis and golf.
Angel serves on her kids school PTA as one of those 25% who do everything. Graham and Angel continue to do the marathon runs and Graham will be in one this weekend ( I get to keep the kids)

Ben lives with us so his address has changed as well. He is in school in the nursing program and works part time at Chili's. He has been a great help in caring for Dyda. He calls Loralei every day and looks forward to his next visit.

Nathaniel and Vanessa are living in Greensboro. Nathaniel is working at the Double Tree as their night auditor and Vanessa has interviewed for a great job at the O'Henry Hotel. They are expecting their first born in January.

JPD is back to school at UNC Asheville. He continues to participate on the school's team for war games battle reenactments. They do really well. It must have come from all the paint ball games he enjoyed. He has a part time job on campus.

Mary is back at UNC Greensboro. She is on the school's swim team and we look forward to seeing her in some of the meets. Her latest job is as a photographer for a promotional web site. Her Air Force career is postponed to continue her education.

Thank you all for your continued prayers for our family,
Eva and Gordon

OK. So its not Friday...

2008-09-10T08:56:00.002-04:00

Fellowship

Better to suffer
on earth with Christ, than reign in
Heaven without Him.

St. Bernard of Clairveaux

Grammar Nazi

2008-09-04T20:05:00.003-04:00

It's my mother's fault. She raised my brother and me to be grammar perfectionists. It was almost preferable to commit a mortal sin than to split an infinitive. Of course, it is one thing to know how to speak correctly; it is quite another to apply correction to those committing the unpardonable sin of improper speech, whether it be family, friend or foe. If she heard, "Her and I went to the Mall," the young lady would be advised that it should be "She and I.." Oh those pesky pronouns. The improper use of "who and whom" drove her to the edge, as in "he is the one who I want to date. "Whom, my dear...it should be "whom." She was fearless.

No one escaped her kind but firm correction and it used to amaze me how bold she was in her mission. It used to anger me when I would get caught in some egregious error, but how thankful I am that she held me to her higher standard. And despite my own resistance, my mother created a clone of herself: I am an unabashed Grammar Nazi.

Just ask my children how difficult it was to carry on a conversation in our household. Each would converse with care and trepidation, hoping not to hear the dreaded... "Grammar Error...Grammar Error." Now this phrase was preceded with an alert sound that resembled the noise made by the fire-drill horn in high school. It was an "EH..EH..EH..EH." followed by "Grammar Error...Grammar Error." Kinda like, "Danger Will Robinson...Danger Will Robinson." Then the correction would be made to the undying embarrassment of the offender. My son, Nathaniel, didn't really carry on conversation until he was 7. Didn't want to hear that dreaded "EH..EH..EH?" Perhaps.

St. Eva the Good and I have been on vacation in Myrtle Beach for the last week. We went to dinner at a Japanese restaurant called "Myabis." As I went to the hostess desk, I was confronted with a sign that said: "To receive the early bird discount, you must be sat by 5:30PM." The alarm bells went off in my brain. "EH...EH...Grammar Error." All during dinner, I agonized over that sign. "Must be sat?" I know this is South Carolina but for Pete's sake... When I paid the bill, I asked the hostess who was in charge of the sign. "The Manager," she replied. "It has a serious grammar error," said I. She came around and stood beside me as I pointed it out. "Well, you see, she's Japanese..." Nazi's accept no such lame excuses.

Yes, it is a curse. But we Grammar Nazi's never sleep...we never rest...and even though we may be in Myrtle Beach, we never take a vacation.

2008-08-28T10:30:00.001-04:00

Eucharist

What condescension
Of God. Resurrected Flesh
In a crumb of bread.

The Passion of St. Augustine

2008-08-28T10:14:00.004-04:00

When he finally surrendered to the embrace of Christ, Augustine was never the same. As he reflected on his life in his autobiography, he penned one of the most tender expressions of love I have ever read. Since I, like Augustine, was converted late in life (age 31), his words express the depths of my own love and gratitude to Jesus:

“ Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new! Late have I loved you! And behold, you were within, and I abroad, and there I searched for you; I was deformed, plunging amid those fair forms, which you had made. You were with me, but I was not with you. Things held me far from you—things which, if they were not in you, were not at all. You called, and shouted, and burst my deafness. You flashed and shone, and scattered my blindness. You breathed odors and I drew in breath—and I pant for you. I tasted, and I hunger and thirst. You touched me, and I burned for your peace” (St. Augustine, Confessions)

"Never, Never, Never Give Up..."

2008-08-27T13:41:00.002-04:00

These words were spoken by Winston Churchill during the darkest days of World War II. Churchill, for many reasons, is one of my favorite historical personalities. Though certainly flawed, as are we all, I have always admired his great tenacity.

And today, the Church celebrates the feast day of St. Monica (d. 387AD), whose tenacious and unyielding prayer gave us the great Saint we celebrate tomorrow, St. Augustine. I have written of St. Monica before. She is the model for contemporary parents who have children that have strayed from the fold; children who have surrendered to the "sex, drugs and rock and roll" culture that has subsumed our American life.

Augustine was the playboy/hippie of his day. Sin was no stranger to this fourth century bon vivant. For 17 years, Monica wept, fasted and prayed for his conversion. She sought the counsel of others to help her convince Augustine to follow Christ. After beseeching Bishop Ambrose of Milan for days and days, he said to her, " My dear, go home. Surely the child of so many tears will never be lost."

You see, she never, never, never gave up on Augustine or God, for that matter. And we need to do the same. I have 8 children that are on, shall we say, various paths. Some paths good...others, not so good. But I take great comfort from St. Monica. It is my role to pray them to the "Gates of the Kingdom," so to speak. Certainly, as a fruit of my prayer, God will give the grace that brings each of them to that heavenly door...but,it will ever be the personal responsibility of each to willingly walk through the threshold. And so,my children.....I am never, never, never giving up!!!

2008-08-20T22:28:00.004-04:00

Queen Mother

O Heavenly Queen,
Monstra te esse matrem.**
Be thou my Mother.

**Prayer of the ancient Church

The Home

2008-08-20T20:23:00.004-04:00

If we live long enough, each of us will be faced with the one unfortunate consequence of longevity: being placed by our "caregivers" in The Home. Having had the experience of daily visiting my Dad for the last 3 months at St. Joseph's Care Center, I can tell you that I have seen my future and it is frightening, indeed.

During the time we are healthy and aging like fine wine, we never give this prospect a second thought. But medical science is denying the Grim Reaper his share of early retirements, prolonging the dying process just long enough so that those interred in The Home can bequeath their assets to the health care system. However, putting asset transfers aside, the mere fact that the dying process has been changed from the blazing glory of Niagara Falls to the drip, drip, drip of Chinese Water Torture, should be enough to scare the 'bejezus' out of everyone.

My Dad is fortunate. On September 13th, he is coming back home. His roommate, however, a very bright and alert former sculptor, will not ever leave except through death. He sits in his chair looking out of the window, watching visitors come and go...none of whom will be finding their way to his room. Mr. Miller's predicament has caused me great anguish and the sad thing is, his experience is not unique.

Dyda has fared pretty well. The caregivers at St. Joseph have been wonderful.
But being in the presence of so many sick and infirm senior citizens has taken its toll. Last night during our visit, he suddenly began to count "54, 55,56,57..." I said, "Hey, Big Guy, why are you counting over and over again?" He looked at me with a slight grin and said, Hell! I gotta do something!" Let us pray fervently for cardiac arrests while sleeping.

2008-08-14T16:16:00.000-04:00

Restless

We're made for Thyself,
And our heart is most restless
'Til resting in Thee.

St. Augustine- Confessions

Moment of Grace

2008-08-13T14:14:00.003-04:00

Road rage!! I read about it all the time. Incredible crimes have been committed by people suffering from "Road Rage." And, though no violent crimes have been committed by me to date, I suffer from the dreadful malady.

I remember the time I was angered by my nephew, Chuck. I can't remember the incident that occurred in the church parking lot, but there I stood in the rain, with my hands on the hood of his truck, to prevent him from leaving while I read the "riot act." Now get this picture: He is in a truck, safe and dry. I am standing in the rain, cold and wet, trying to keep a 4 ton truck from moving, using my bare hands. We all eventually dissolved in laughter over the incident.

There have been other occasions that are too numerous to mention. There was the time I was hit in the rear by a guy in a traffic circle. I jumped out of the car and was furiously flinging epithets that would make a sailor blush. My anger was quickly abated, however, when the driver, a 7 foot tall, three hundred pound black dude emerged from the driver's seat. I am not sure what I said, but it was probably something like, "Gee, I'm sorry I pulled out in front of you so suddenly..." Road rage can sometimes be hazardous to your health.

I can't count the times that I have given an offending driver the universal hand salute of disdain. Not to mention the things that I have shouted to motorists, while my young brood of children sat fearful and puzzled in back seats. Having provided such a great fatherly example over the years, I realized that I had to change. I was no longer going to be dominated by road rage.

I was listening to a radio preacher expounding on this topic. What kind of witness are we giving when we have "I love Jesus" stickers on our bumpers and we are shouting and giving others solitary finger salutes. And so, I resolved to change. He suggested we give the peace sign instead. To say words of blessing to the offending party. Yes, Yes. It made so much sense. I resolved to try it out and the opportunity for redemption and grace sharing quickly presented itself

Last Thursday, as I was leaving my neighborhood on my motorcycle, I accidentally pulled in front of a young lady in a Honda Accord. At the next "Stop" sign, she pulled up next to me and shouted, "Hey, Old Man, why don't you learn how to drive that thing?!" Oh joy!! Here was my opportunity. My grace filled moment. My chance to redeem all of the years of rage and fury. The radio preacher's counsel was running through my brain. So I looked at that sweet young face, staring at me through the open car window and prayerfully said...."AWW, go to Hell!!" and roared off. Oh Lord, be merciful to me a sinner!

Manly Virtues

2008-08-07T21:25:00.002-04:00

Even though it enrages feminists, it is a fact there are virtues that are associated with manliness and virtues that are associated with femininity. For example, justice is a manly trait. Mercy is feminine. Command is a manly trait, obedience is a feminine.

Now men and women are a combination of both masculine and feminine traits. A mentally healthy male must balance justice with mercy. A good mother administers just punishment when it is called for. However, there seems to be dreadful imbalance in many of today's males. Men have been so feminized by the culture, that they feel awkward manifesting manly virtues. They are quite honored to be called "metro-sexual."

During this time of the presidential campaign, I am carefully observing the two candidates to see which manifests the manly virtues that are required, in my mind, to forcefully lead this nation in these troubled times. I have observed both McCain and Obama and have been most disappointed in what I have seen.

What qualities must the candidate possess? How about firmness. I want a candidate who kicks a*& and takes names. One who calls a "spade a spade." One that "tells it likes it is." Who can control the spouse and family, even disclosing failings and foibles of family members, who don't measure up to standard. Yes...After much thought and observation, I am convinced that America needs....... Michelle Obama.

2008-08-07T19:42:00.002-04:00

Bartimaeus

In my soul's blindness
I cried out: Lord, let me see.
His Word gave me sight.

Vision

Let me see Your face,
Though I die. Not seeing it
I die from longing.

St. Augustine Confessions

2008-08-01T09:00:00.002-04:00

Riding

Bikers are gathered.
Mechanical steeds growling.
The joy of a ride.

2008-07-31T21:59:00.000-04:00

Percentage

One hundred percent
Of us die. The percentage
Cannot be decreased.

C. S. Lewis

The Move

2008-07-30T19:33:00.002-04:00

After more than four years in our 3200 square foot monster home, St. Eva the Good and I are moving to smaller digs. Just 1700 square feet of living space in a community called Village by the Lake in Southern Pines, NC. This place is is for "old people." In fact the rules and regs of the condo association prohibit "young ins" and a few other things: pickup trucks ( no biggie there) and....motorcycles (Groan!!) For forty years I waited to buy my cycle and now it is unwelcome in the community into which I am moving. This is a real dilemma.

A friend of mine said, "Gee, moving into a community that bans bikes may have saved your life!" Thanks, Bob. You are no help. For the moment, I am leaving Big Red here at the house. Gordo and his wife Karen will be renting our old home for a while. But I will have to drive 6 miles in my van to pick up my bike to drive the 8 miles to the office, which, I guess, makes no sense. So that leaves me just a few riding opportunities each week. It's killing me.

Bikers are a strange lot. They are cultically devoted to their mechanical steeds. It is like we are members of the Church of Harley. There are rituals: When bikers pass each other, they always give a left handed, low wave. It is a way of saying, "Be safe, Brother." Just like at Mass...a mobile "sign of peace." And of course, there are special vestments and rubrics. Leather, wallet chains, doo rags, boots and vests figure prominently in the Church of Harley liturgical garb. And lets not forget the fellowship meal. No wine is served in the Church of Harley, but capacious amounts of Budweiser and burgers are consumed in convivial fellowship, when bikers gather.

And so I am agonizing over this. Our maintenance man at church is currently building his own Harley. When I told of my situation, he exclaimed, "Hell (he is Protestant, you see,) I'd sooner give up my wife than my bike!! HMMMMMMMMM. Big Red or St. Eva the Good... Oh, Hell..."Bye bye, Big Red."

2008-07-26T16:01:00.000-04:00

Thought

Blaise Pascal once wrote:
"Thought constitutes man's greatness."
No wonder we're doomed.

Nix on X- Files-the Movie

2008-07-25T11:36:00.004-04:00

So what am I doing in a movie theatre at 12:30 AM on a Friday morning? Simple. It was free. My son Jonathan has worked out a deal for his Chik-fil-A staff. He brings left over chicken sandwiches and nuggets for the Cinema staff "free viewing night," and his CFA staff can join in. The only negative is that the bloody flicks start at 12:30 AM.

OK. The X Files movie. What a fan I was of Mulder and Scully during those salad days of the TV program. In fact, I had a real "thing" for Gillian Anderson. (My thoughts were always chaste, of course.) Duchovny, well I could take him or leave him. A little too whiney and wimpy for my taste. A metro sexual male paradigm, if you ask me.

And so it was with great excitement that I got my free Diet Coke, hand full of sandwiches and nuggets and found my way to theatre #4. There were about 50 people in the lobby. When 46 of them made there way to the other 9 theatres to view whatever mindless pap Hollywood is distributing these days, I should have guessed they knew something that I didn't. I soon would find out. In addition, suffering through the previews for what is on tap for American tastes, does not give one occasion for much hope. (Saw V...Do you mean that actually made four others of these?...Mirrors demons take over a mirror museum. What a genius script! And there was some clip about Girls Pants That Travel Around the World #2 Yes, this is a sequel. What a novel idea!)

On with the show. I am going to try to summarize this anti-Catholic movie rant in a few words:

1) Plot #1- Scully works in a Catholic Hospital. She wants to save the life of a young boy with brain cancer. The evil priest administrator, who looks like Don Knotts in clericals, wants her to "fuggedabowdit." Let the boy die with "dignity." Oh yes, the hospital has religious stained glass in the lobby, large crucifixes in all rooms and giant plaster statues everywhere. In addition, nuns in habits walk menacingly down the halls with hands folded, always frowning with disapproval on poor Scully who is standing up for "life." Comment: my wife worked in two Catholic Hospitals. First, you had to look far and wide for crucifixes outside of the non-sectarian chapels, secondly, statues were non-existent and thirdly, nuns in habits? Are you kidding?

2) Plot #2- Now this really gets complicated. Scully gets Mulder out of retirement to help the FBI find missing women. A psychic ex-priest is leading the FBI to locations in West Virginia (lots of Catholic hospitals located there, what?) where body parts are being found. So now you may be wondering, why is this character an ex-priest?....Try to guess before you continue (Insert mental 'Jeopardy' jingle here).....Yes, of course. He is a convicted pedophile!! This fellow who speaks with an Irish brogue, it seems, has visions of the missing women. But Scully is unimpressed. Why would God give visions to a guy who, as she angrily says, "buggered 37 altar boys?"

3) In order to make this a serious picture, after "bedding" Scully, Mulder and she carry on a way too long conversation about how evil God is for allowing suffering. Scully can't sleep because she is too busy "hating God." Mulder replies, "Scully, go to sleep. Let me take over hating God for a while." Ohhhhh...so heavy!

4) Well, to make a long story long, the body parts are being used by mad Russian surgeons to piece together the male "partner" of a Russian guy who drives a snowplow. ( Did I mention the film was supposed to have been set in West Virginia...in winter. It looks more like Siberia.) Nevertheless, the Russians have figured out how to decapitate people and transfer the heads onto healthy bodies. (Reader: are you following this?) So the "male partner's" head has been severed, the body of the woman they have selected to receive the man's head is on ice, when Mulder and Scully arrive in the nick of time to stop this madness.

5) OK. Here is the coup d' gras.One more anti-Catholic twist. The "male partner" turns out to be one of the 37 boys that the old psychic ex-priest had "buggered." Whew!

And so at 2:45 AM, I found my way back home, awakened my sleeping spouse and vented over this horrible movie. "Sounds like a waste time and you should have walked out."....Ah, St. Eva the Good. How right you are. It was and I should have.

2008-07-18T20:50:00.001-04:00

Hearing

I listened to him.
In his voice I was hearing
The accent of God.

St. Eva's Family Update

2008-07-18T12:47:00.003-04:00

Eva does not have a blog yet, but this is an update she sent to her email list about the Dozier family:

I am not a "blogger" Guess I will have to get with the times. In the mean time I will continue with my "Dozier Updates."

Let's start with Dyda. He continues his recovery at St. Joseph's skilled facility. His days are up and down. We never know if he is going to be cracking jokes or just in too deep a sleep to disturb but we take one day at a time. What a treasure he is to us.

Gordon and I are venturing into a new phase of our life. Retirement continues for him ( of course with his great side jobs: at the church and charge of household management aka: chief cook, bottle washer and toilet ministry. I continue my four day a week job in Infection Control. What is changing for us is that we are moving into a senior community. We have bought a smaller ( only 1800 sq. feet) home in an area called Village by the Lake. Angel says it looks like one of those resort homes we have stayed in through our timeshare and she says that it will feel as though we are always on vacation. Good thought when I can finally retire. Here is the link to view our new residence:
http://www.pinkydoyle.com/Nav.aspx/Page=http://idx.advancedaccess.com%2fdefault.aspx%3fMID%3d6950%26Action%3d11%26LinkID%3d1387
Remax of Southern Pines listing go to the far right hand side of page and enter this mls #129253

Gordie was recently ordained a Deacon in the Eastern Rite Catholic Church. He will be starting a Parish here hopefully soon. He continues to be the International Management Trainer for Hartford Life with trips to Japan and Dublin. Karen will begin teaching this year at our Catholic School. She will bring so many of her gifts and talents to those kids. Katie is going there again and Alex and Daniel will continue home schooling. Daniel should be getting his Eagle Scout this year.

Kristi, Jon, Jack and Eva in Dallas. Kristi has a great job with the Dallas YMCA, event planning/funding raising, her specialty. Jon continues with American Airlines having recently accepted a new position there. Eva will hopefully soon be going to MD Anderson in Houston for a second opinion concerning the tumor found on the left side of her chest. It has been determined to be part of the original tumor removed in March but is growing. Please keep those prayers going.

Jay has recently applied to get his own Chik-fil-A store. He also will finish his Masters next month. JJ Jr. has been here all summer and it has been great to spend time with him. Look forward to seeing Jacob soon. Boo, Jay's fiance, is working, I think at last count 3 jobs, and going to UNC-G. What a ball of energy. Wish I could bottle it.

Angel and Graham have done a great job on their new house. (the back yard looks like the ninth hole at the Country Club). The three little ones keep Angel on the run, camps, swim teams and play dates, etc.. She also is managing the Storage Units for the Gulleys in her "spare time".

Ben will continue with his college in the field of nursing. He got accepted into that program. He misses his beautiful daughter, Loralei, talking to her every day.

Nathaniel and Vanessa will be getting married on August 16, 2008. We are looking forward to this event. It will be a small garden wedding at the Marriott in Greensboro. Wish you all could join us but they were only able to invite 40 people. Keep them in your prayers. If you would like to send them a note of congratulations here is Nathaniel's e-mail address : Nathandozier@hotmail.com

JPD will be going back to UNC Asheville in a couple of weeks. He has been managing the day camp at Sandhills Sports Center and the kids love him. Rebecca, his special friend, is house sitting here this summer and working again at Chik-fil-A.

Mary has spent the summer traveling and working seven days a week. She will continue at UNC-Greensboro until January when she will be joining the Air Force. Before going in she has a trip to Las Vegas and Hawaii planned before Christmas.

Keep us all in your prayers as we do you.
Love ya,
Eva

2008-07-11T06:18:00.001-04:00

Following

There is seeming risk
In following the Lord. But
Jesus bids us, "Come!"

Actual Church Signs

2008-07-06T17:07:00.003-04:00

We use duct tape to fix everything.
God used nails.

2 Great truths:
1) There is a God.
2) You are not HIM.

God is the potter...not Harry.

Our church is like fudge:
sweet, with a few nuts.

No man has ever been shot
While doing the dishes.

God wants full custody.
Not just weekend visitations.

2008-07-04T21:53:00.001-04:00

Sense

Come Holy Spirit.
Fill our inner sense with the
Fragrance of Jesus.

The Gadarenes

2008-07-02T19:59:00.004-04:00

I have always been fascinated with the Gospel story read today at Holy Mass.(Matt 8:28-34) Jesus encounters two men possessed by demons.They scream in torment and the devils locked in the duo's psyches', petition to be cast into nearby swine. "Go then," Jesus said, and the newly possessed pigs cast themselves into the sea and drown. The swineherds are aghast as they see their pork belly investment sink into oblivion. And so in their outrage, they "begged Jesus," as Matthew tells us, "to leave their district."

A couple of things here. First of all, in our enlightened age, do we need to believe that demons exist, much less take possession of someone? I have talked with priests who have witnessed more than these swineherds from Gadara, so that it leads me to say "yes" to both. In theological circles, a distinction, however, is made between outright possession and simple obsession. The former is rare; the latter much more common.

Secondly, anytime Jesus is in the neighborhood, you can expect things to happen. The Gospels attest to it. And today, those who are committed to Christocentric Gospel living, can also attest to it. The Christian makes the worldly man uncomfortable and like the Gadarenes, they love to see him move on.

The American poet laureate, Richard Wilbur, wrote this wonderful poem on this text from Matthew:

Rabbi, we Gadarenes
Are not ascetics;we are fond of wealth and possessions.
Love, as you call it, we obviate by means
Of the planned release of aggressions.

We have deep Faith in prosperity.
Soon, it is hoped, we will reach our full potential.
In the light of our gross national product,
The practice of charity
Is palpably inessential.

It is true that we go insane;
That for no good reason we are possessed
By Devils;
That we suffer, despite the amenities which obtain
At all but the lowest levels.

We shall not, however, resign
Our trust in the high-heaped table
And full trough.
If you cannot cure us without destroying our swine,
We had rather you shoved off.

Pimp My Ride

2008-06-30T15:30:00.002-04:00

For Father's Day, I got an unusual present from Gordo and his brood. While my back was turned they "pimped my ride." So I guess it had to be memorialized with the picture. Yo, Momma!!

2008-06-27T15:40:00.000-04:00

Father

'Tis an awesome thing,
Revealed by Christ. God desires
We call Him "Abba.!"

Fr. Deacon Daniel Gordon

2008-06-25T11:21:00.002-04:00

Last weekend, our family traveled to Parma, Ohio to witness the ordination of Gordon, (#1 Son) to the diaconate. The Eparchy of Parma is located just south of Cleveland. The rite was done in typical Byzantine fashion: lots of incense, a capella singing, and the 1600 year old liturgy of St. John Chrysostom. The Cathedral of St. Josaphat was replete with iconography, some in mosaic others painted (or written as they say in the East.) If you have never participated in a Byzantine mass, you need to experience it.

Gordon performed the rubrics flawlessly, though he had no time to practice. Since "Gordon" is not the name of a saint, he is using his confirmation name, "Daniel." So Fr. Deacon Daniel Gordon is the appellation.

He told me that when the Bishop placed his hands on Gordon's head, it felt like a warm, spring rain was falling on him. This "gentle rain" was confirmed as we left the Cathedral for the reception: the once sunny afternoon was abruptly changed by an array of thunderstorms that drenched each and all. Wet to the bone, we arrived at the reception hall where the Ukrainians, who are known for their great food and hospitality, did not disappoint.

Fr. Deacon Daniel Gordon will serve his first Mass on Sunday June 29th. As I mentioned before, the deacon's role in the eastern liturgy is very extensive. He will also preach the homily. Bishop Robert told Gordon that he would soon ordain him to priesthood. Probably in a year. Until that time, Gordon will minister at his parish, St. Nicholas in Cary.

God has answered my prayer for a vocation out of my brood of eight. St. Monica prayed for St. Augustine for 16 years. I only had to persist in prayer for 25.

2008-06-19T14:14:00.002-04:00

Trust

Your love is boundless.
Lord, why do I not fully
Trust your providence?

Saints

2008-06-19T13:25:00.003-04:00

Our Protestant brothers and sisters do not understand the Catholic practice of honoring Saints and even naming Churches after them. Some Protestants will name a church after a back alley or service station before someone considered a "Saint."

Recently, my son, Nathaniel and I were talking about the American Indian custom of naming children. After the birth, the proud father would go outside and name the child after the first thing he saw: Running Bear, Crazy Horse, etc. He suggested that our Protestant brothers and sisters must do something similar. They leave the parking lot and drive around until something strikes them to name the new fellowship: 32 Street Church of Christ, for example. Well with such inspiration, we were creating a few fellowships of our own as we drove along...The Home Depot Church of the Redeemer, Exxon Church of Christ, Steinmart Third Presbyterian.

Protestant readers, do not be offended. I love you. I owe a great deal to you in my odyssey of coming into the fullness of my relationship to Christ. But really, what is wrong with naming a church after a great Protestant man or woman of God? (Some Anglicans and Lutherans do name Churches after saints.) Saints are our our link to past salvation history...through their testimony, they give us hope that we too can walk the Gospel way. And what is wrong with asking them to help us to respond to God's grace as they did? So how about "Dietrich Bonhoffer Baptist?" Would that be a miracle or what!!!

I subscribe to a daily email blast from www.americancatholic.org called "Saint of the Day." Go to their site and sign up. It's free and each day, you will receive a short biographical selection of a holy man or woman of God. As you read these sketches, one thing becomes abundantly clear: Suffering and Sanctity go hand in hand.
I am not talking physical suffering necessarily, but all kinds: depression, addictions, battles with carnality, temptations to despair and loss of faith, etc. You suddenly realize that the Saints are just like us. The big difference is that, unlike us, they didn't waste all of the graces that God gives us each nanosecond.

I was really impressed with Matt Talbot. His story is found below. His life gives me great hope, for he is the saint for those addicted to all the evils that our modern culture offers: alcohol, drugs, porn, sex...etc. His life shows that prayer and cooperation with God's inestimable and inexhaustible grace, changes things.

Matt can be considered the patron of men and women struggling with alcoholism.
Matt was born in Dublin, where his father worked on the docks and had a difficult time supporting his family. After a few years of schooling, Matt obtained work as a messenger for some liquor merchants; there he began to drink excessively. For 15 years—until he was 30—Matt was an active alcoholic.

One day he decided to take "the pledge" for three months, make a general confession and begin to attend daily Mass. There is evidence that Matt’s first seven years after taking the pledge were especially difficult. Avoiding his former drinking places was hard. He began to pray as intensely as he used to drink. He also tried to pay back people from whom he had borrowed or stolen money while he was drinking.

Most of his life Matt worked as a builder’s laborer. He joined the Secular Franciscan Order and began a life of strict penance; he abstained from meat nine months a year. Matt spent hours every night avidly reading Scripture and the lives of the saints. He prayed the rosary conscientiously. Though his job did not make him rich, Matt contributed generously to the missions.

After 1923 his health failed and Matt was forced to quit work. He died on his way to church on Trinity Sunday. Fifty years later Pope Paul VI gave him the title "Venerable."

2008-06-13T17:35:00.002-04:00

Fragrance

The Holy Scriptures,
Inspired by the Holy Ghost
Are fragrant with God.

St. Ambrose

Which week is it?

2008-06-12T21:46:00.005-04:00

When one is blessed with such a large brood and extended family, something is always going on. St. Eva the Almost Good (yes, she was reduced to "almost" two weeks ago. I'll explain later) and I never have a week in which something is not happening..good or ill. Recently, Eva asked me when Gordon, III was being ordained to the diaconate in the Byzantine Ukrainian Catholic Church? "On the 11th of June,"says I. "No," says she, "that can't be right. I think that is the day for Ben's court appearance." "Ah, Yes," says I. " I got the ordination mixed up with the divorce."

Yes. Our life is never dull. As a matter of fact, I just arrived back home after a 1600 mile round trip to Indiana to be a moral support for Ben as his marriage to Rebecca was dissolved. It was never a sacramental union. They got married by a Justice of the Peace while standing on a porch outside the Carthage City jail. That should have been a sign from God right there!! But there is sadness when any marriage dissolves and this one was bittersweet. At least he will be able to have definitive visitation privileges with his daughter, who is the joy of his life.

And next week, it is off to Parma, Ohio where the Ukrainian Eparchy is located. We will celebrate Gordon's ordination to the permanent diaconate on Saturday, June 21. The Ukrainian Byzantine Catholic Church uses the ancient liturgy of St. John Chrysostom. It is very beautiful and sung from beginning to end. In the eastern church, the deacon plays a major roll in the Mass, while in the Roman rite, we still don't know what to do with these guys. The Ukrainian church reunited with Rome more than 500 years ago. In addition to a unique liturgy, they also have a married clergy. Gordo may be ordained a priest in June 2009. That remains to be seen.

Yes, I finally got a vocation out of this crowd. I have prayed for all these many years that someone would enter religious life. My prayer was answered. And I gave him this advice: a successful homilist never lets his sermon exceed 12 minutes. The story goes that while a deacon was preaching, he noticed that his wife was beating her watch with her fist during the sermon. After Mass, he told her that she didn't need to use such histrionics in order to let him know that he was a bit lengthy. "Well" she harrumphed, "it went on so long, I thought the battery had died."

2008-06-06T17:02:00.001-04:00

Singing

We sing a new song
When we give ourselves to Christ.
A song 'twixt lovers.

The Vanishing White Man

2008-06-02T21:01:00.005-04:00

For centuries, the only Christian church steadfastly opposed to contraception and artificial means of birth control has been the Catholic Church. In the early days of the Reformation, all Protestant sects taught the moral evils contained in contraception. This came to an abrupt end with the Lambeth Conference in the 1920's. Yes, our Anglican friends were the first to succumb to secular pressure and permit the abhorrent practice. Over the next few decades, one -by-one, the other Protestant denominations followed suit.

The 1960's were a heady time for the forces of artificial contraception. The Catholic Church came perilously close to abandoning its centuries old teachings. In fact, most of the radical cardinals and periti thought Pope Paul would cave- in with the eagerly awaited encyclical, Humanae Vitae

If there were ever an example of the veracity of Christ's promise to protect the Church from error through the Holy Spirit's constant presence, this is a textbook case. Pope Paul VI shocked the world with his letter proclaiming the ancient teaching on the purpose of the sexual act in the marriage covenant. Many Catholics, schooled in the protestant ethic of conscience and private interpretation of Scripture, disdained the teaching. After all, what does that old celibate know about our problems? Like Lucifer's' cry of "Non serviam" they elected to serve themselves and not God.

Humane Vitae was remarkably prescient in its predictions of the fruit of contraception. Abortion and euthanasia would soon follow, according to the Holy Father. And so they did. Even he, however, was not able to see how catastrophic the culture of death would be to the West, especially the white race.

Recent reports of the UN's study on population revealed the following:

----In 1950, whites were 28% of the world's population. In 2060, they will have fallen to 9.8%.
----Two hundred million white people, a number equal to the entire population of France, Britain, Holland and Germany---will vanish by 2060.
----By 2050, one-fourth of all the people in Eastern Europe will have vanished.
----In America, the Hispanic population will triple to 127 million by 2050. As Mexico's population increases to 130 million and based on statistics from the Pew Research Center, Patrick Buchanan notes that an "erasure of the U.S. border or merger of the two countries, or the linguistic, cultural and social annexation of the American Southwest by Mexico seems fated."

The consequences of the selfishness exemplified in contraceptive acts will have devastated Western Man and Western Culture. The great sadness remains that these demographic facts are inexorable. They cannot be changed even if the Western nations triple their birth rates. What is summarized here is our future. The sun has set on Western Civilization.

2008-05-30T16:35:00.001-04:00

Ordinary

No one could have known
The Nazarene was Christus.
Too ordinary.

A Mother's Prayers

2008-05-29T20:39:00.002-04:00

Several years ago on the 700 Club, I listened to the testimony of a big, burly truck driver about his conversion experience. He was involved in a serious traffic accident and was clinically dead. He saw himself hanging by thin strings over a smoking, sulphurous pit. A voice from above said , "The threads that are keeping you from falling into the abyss are the prayers of your mother."

Every family has probably had one or more of their children stray from the foundational teachings that were inculcated while they were at home. It is a source of great concern for parents. But prayer is the only hope, especially the prayers of a mother.

You may be familiar with this story. The son in question hated his father, who found him a disappointment. As a teen, he belonged to a gang of thieves who wandered the countryside committing unspeakable crimes. But his mother prayed for her son.

He fled his home, taking a prostitute with him, with whom he fathered an illegitimate child. Though very intelligent, he failed out of several colleges and universities. Still, his mother prayed. In fact she prayed for over 16 years for his conversion, which occurred one evening when he happened to open a Bible and read the Gospel of Matthew.

Filled with the spirit of repentance, he wrote the following testimony of his conversion:

Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new.
Late have I loved you.
You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you.
In my unlovliness, I plunged into the lovely things
which you created.
You were with me but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you;
Yet if they had not been in you, they would not have been at all.
You called...You shouted...you broke through my deafness.
You flashed..You shone..You dispelled my blindness.
You breathed your fragrance on me. I drew in breath
and now I pant for you.
I have tasted you; now I hunger and thirst for more.
You touched me and I burned for your peace...
I make no effort to conceal my wounds...You are my physician
I am your patient.
You are merciful; I stand in need of mercy!!

The errant son was St. Augustine of Hippo, who became one of the great philosophers and theologians of the Church. The mother was St. Monica. What if Monica had prayed for just 15 years, 11 months and 29 days? It was her perseverance and love that moved the heart of God. And so I encourage parents to pray for their children. God is especially touched by a mother's prayer. His Mother's prayer...Pray for us, Oh Holy Mother of God. Hear our petitions and our necessities, and deliver us from all dangers, Oh ever glorious and ever blessed Virgin Mary.

Memorial Day

2008-05-27T15:57:00.002-04:00

I want to express my gratitude to the Men and Women who currently serve in the US Military and my thanks for those who have paid the ultimate price:

IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

2008-05-23T13:08:00.001-04:00

Adversity

God chooses to use
great and adverse winds to blow
us to safe harbor.

Bl. Charles de Foucauld

Bama's Old Cedar Chest

2008-05-18T11:15:00.006-04:00

St. Eva the Good had determined that a yard sale was in order. I would rather serve 100 years in Purgatory than set up or go to a yard sale, but my help was enlisted, perhaps "mandated" is a better word.

And so on a beautiful Saturday morning, I found myself rummaging at the storage shed rather than mounted on my motorcycle. I do not know why I agonize over this, but I just hate to sort through old "stuff." My stuff or someone else's...It matters not. Box after box was removed to be opened and contents catalogued on the gravel driveway. And then I stumbled across it. Bama's old cedar chest.

My Mother, Bama as she was affectionately known by her grandchildren, was a notorious pack rat. When she got married in 1937, the first two pieces of furniture purchased were a bed and a cedar chest. Now, I could understand the bed, but a cedar chest? Why not a kitchen table.. a sofa or a chair? My father once said that Bama just had to have a place to store her "stuff." It was her treasure chest.

Once, I recall my brother Denny and I playing "hide n seek" in the house with Bama. He was three and I was seven. We searched everywhere for her. Now we had a small house: two bedrooms and just one bath. She was nowhere to be found. As a last resort, we went to the old cedar chest. With trepidation, we slowly lifted the lid. There was Bama, stretched out with her hands across her chest and a plastic set of Dracula teeth in her mouth. I think the spot where we stood took about a week to dry, and to this day, I cannot open the lid without expecting a surprise.

And upon opening her cedar chest on this bright and clear Saturday, surprises were still in store. I was overwhelmed with the things she so treasured. Letters and cards wrapped in ribbons..newspaper articles that I had written, along with reviews of my past theatrical endeavors, grade school works of art along with report cards which all too graphically showed she raised no scholars.

But then as we began to dig, we found the items that touch the most: pictures... those old pictures, ghosts from the past, that wring out a cascade of memories and the mist of tears. That's why I do not like to look through old "stuff." It's just too painful, especially when I found pictures of me and my first girl-friend, Anne Tucker, mugging like goof balls. Oh,the agony of viewing the ravages that time has wrought on that once thin, handsome and even innocent face.

It is unfortunate that future generations of treasure hunters in old cedar chests will be denied the "agony and the ecstasy" of viewing old photos, showing the faces and scenes of times past. One of the unfortunate bequests of the digital age is the fact that pictures are no more than "bips and bits" residing on hard drives or CD ROMS. Drives crash. CD ROMS? They will become useless, since they will be rendered technologically unusable...like all of those 8 millimeter movies my Dad has. No projector exists today to play them.

So to satisfy future cedar chest explorers, make sure that you save a few things to reward their search...newspaper articles, 2nd grade art works and most especially printed photographs to visually illustrate the way we were and can never be again.

2008-05-15T15:52:00.002-04:00

Yahweh

Pictures from Hubble
Shout Thy majestic "I AM"
And that "i am not."

Perseverance

2008-05-11T20:18:00.003-04:00

She looked like the proverbial "bag lady." Her unkempt hair, disheveled dress and grocery bag were the first things you noticed about her, causing me to feel most uncomfortable as she would slowly slouch past. But every day she was there for Mass at the Atlanta Cathedral. Rain or shine..it didn't matter. This street "creature" as she was called, occupied the first pew on the Gospel side of the church.

When I worked at Westminster Schools, I was able to frequently slip out and attend the mid-day liturgy. I always occupied the back pew, not to distance myself from the woman, necessarily, but I like to be alone...you know...just Jesus and me. Who cares about the rest of the pew sitters. After Mass, she would shuffle down the aisle on her way back to the streets. I, of course, would piously keep my eyes from contact with her...like I said, just me and Jesus.

One fateful day, as she made her way down the aisle, I noticed that it appeared she was heading for my pew. "Oh, God, No. Please don't let her stop...," I ardently prayed. But the Holy Spirit had other plans. She stopped right next to me. I raised my eyes, perturbed that my "deep meditation" was being summarily interrupted. Of course, had it been the Archbishop, I would have considered it a great honor. But this was no archbishop.

I managed a somewhat supercilious, "Yes?" She looked straight into my eyes and said, "Do you think that you will persevere until the end?" She then turned abruptly and headed toward the exit. That was all she said but, for some reason, I was thunderstruck. I slumped back into the pew and tears began to fill my eyes. I had been addressed by a prophet, in the guise of a street person. The Holy Spirit was letting me know that I should forget appearances. His instruments are of His choosing. How do you think John the Baptist must have looked: dressed in animal skins, uncut hair due to his Nazarite vow, and a half chewed locust protruding from his lips? Oh God, how much Your ways are not our ways.

I cherish the encounter. I still think about it and I refuse to let her message go unheeded. Jesus warns us about being so self-assured and self-righteous that we might fall, eternally. "No one can call Jesus, Lord, except by the Holy Spirit," Paul tells us today. And by the Spirit I so call Him. But it must be a daily thing. Jesus must be Lord of my Sunday and then my Monday and then my Tuesday...until my last day. By the power of the Spirit I can persevere until the end. Paul's words will be mine: I have fought the good fight, I have run the race, I have kept the faith. And this great truth I owe to an unknown and unlikely saint, with disheveled dress, unkempt hair and a Food Lion shopping bag.

2008-05-08T22:11:00.001-04:00

Pentecost

Come Holy Spirit
Fill the hearts of your faithful
Enflame us with Love.

Our Man of Steel

2008-05-08T16:59:00.002-04:00

We transferred Dyda to the rehab unit here at St. Joseph's. It was deemed by the powers that be that an ambulance wasn't required and he could sit in his wheel chair. If a person who is an amputee and paralyzed on his left side does not qualify for an ambulance, who on earth would? So Dyda was packed up and strapped to his chair for the eight mile journey. It killed me to see this. I never will forget the look in his eyes as the van doors closed and slowly pulled away.

After that trauma, he arrived at St. Joseph's. I had never been there but was most impressed by the facility and the staff. Dyda looked up from his bed and said "Home at last." It took sometime to clarify in his mind what the circumstances were.

His ticket home,said the therapist, was his progress in responding to the therapy. Dad loves a challenge and he began to lift his right arm and leg. "if that's what it takes, I can do it," he said.

Dyda is our man of steel. He is our family's Superman...a crusader without cape, perhaps, but no less strong and resolute. As I have written before, we could have had no finer model in our lives to demonstrate what it takes to be a husband...father..grandfather...greatgrandfather...a man of God.

2008-05-02T15:01:00.001-04:00

Mystery

Mysteriously,
God uses life's tragedies
To show us His love.

"Life's a Beach"

2008-04-29T09:50:00.002-04:00

On Sunday morning at 2:00 AM, I heard moaning from my Dad's room. I rushed in to find him prostrate on the floor, his left arm bleeding and his speech slurred. My son and I managed to get him seated, but it was obvious, something was dreadfully wrong.

I have no idea how long he had lain on the floor. We noticed that the left side of his mouth was sagging and he was constantly moving and waving his left arm. Eva felt he had had a stroke. He is now in the hospital going through numerous tests and only God knows where we will be going from here.

He is an amazing man. Would that I were only half the man he is. He has a strong personal constitution and seems determined to "hang in there." But the most precious moment happened when Ben and I managed to get him seated after his fall. He looked up at me and managed to say, "Big Guy, life's a beach!!"

Yes, Dad. Life with you is a beach: the comforting warmth of sun and sand... the coolness and refreshment of breeze and surf...knowing that you are always there to make sure I am safe and able to savor it all.

2008-04-25T14:04:00.001-04:00

Christus

Christe, Deus es.
Christe, resurrexisiti.
Mortem vicisti.

Cycling with Grace

2008-04-23T19:33:00.002-04:00

For forty years, (weren't the Jews in the desert that long?) I wanted a motorcycle. But St. Eva the Good wasn't buying it, literally or figuratively. And so I waited and suffered through my own desert experience. Finally, when the last of the eight children reached 18, my wife relented. "If you wrap yourself around a tree, at least I won't have all those kids to raise by myself," said St. Eva the Good. She's always so sensitive to my feelings.

So a few years ago, I got a Honda VTX1100 Shadow Sabre and riding is as wonderful as I imagined it would be. It is my alone time. And now, the fragrances of Spring are everywhere and the experience is definitely contemplative.

Last Saturday, another Dozier has joined the group, which we are calling Purgatory's Angels. JJ bought a Honda VTX1300, with special pipes that can awaken the dead. He has named his bike: Grace. Since his garage is too crowded to accommodate his new girlfriend, I have graciously obliged him a space in mine. And I must tell you, Grace is, indeed, a thing of beauty. Those Harleyesque pipes give me such an adolescent thrill and the lower center of gravity of his 1300 makes the riding experience even more glorious.

The time will come when his garage will be cleared and Grace will leave me for another. However, until that unhappy day...It's just you and me, Gracie, just you and me!!!

2008-04-18T16:42:00.001-04:00

Symmetry

The accountant's art.
Debits,credits in balance.
A thing of beauty.

No More Maher

2008-04-16T12:50:00.002-04:00

I have never been a fan of Bill Maher. On the few occasions I have seen him, I do not see how the words comedian and Maher can appear in the same sentence. My daughter, however, loves him. It just may be a generational thing.

Nevertheless, today I heard some of the excerpts of his program of yesterday where he maligns the Pope, the priesthood and the Catholic Church. He called him a "Nazi who wears funny hats." Priests are pedophiles and the Catholic Church is no different than the Mormon cult in Texas.

Don Imus was S$%#canned for saying much less than Maher. The black community saw to that. ( And not unjustifiably.) So where will 30 million Roman Catholics be on this matter? Or were millions of them watching and perhaps thinking the tirade was amusing.

Well this one papist in North Carolina is "Mad as Hell and not going to take it anymore." I am commencing a one man RC Jihad. I am never going to let insults against the church slip by without some sort of action: the least of which will be an email or a letter flying from my computer. If there is lethargy in the remaining 29,999,999 American Catholics, than so be it. We deserve what we will get.

2008-04-12T10:57:00.002-04:00

Presence

God is most present
When I, alone, am riding
My Honda Shadow

Oh Canada

2008-04-09T21:43:00.002-04:00

My daughter who blogs under the name Goodnight,Mom, is currently in Canada. In her recent post, she began to "sing" Canada's anthem. What a song! If you are a hockey fan, I am sure you have heard it. When a US Team plays a Canadian team, the anthems are sung before the game. Canadians lustily sing one of the true great national anthems. Then the Star Spangled Banner is played. Americans awkwardly attempt to muddle through, wondering what they are going to do when they get to that high part: ...and the laaaaaannnndddd of the FREEEE!!! Rather than risk embarassment, they don't bother. Other good anthems are from Britain, France, Germany and the former Soviet Union.

Can't we do something about this? I don't think it is a lack of patriotism that causes those in the stands to sip their Bud Lite rather than try to croak out that 18th century drinking song. Sir Francis Scott Key loved the tune. But he forgot that you had to be completely wasted to sing it!

So let's steal the Canadian anthem. They'd probably be complimented. I can hear it now. Thousands of hearty american voices joyfully and melodiously singing: "OH, U..S..A... we love our native land... OH, U..S..A, we sing that you are grand..."
OK. So maybe the lyrics aren't so great. But at least the tune doesn't have a high, freaking G in it!!

The Queen of Clean

2008-04-07T16:59:00.004-04:00

Several years ago when I fully retired, my spouse, St. Eva the Good, remained gainfully employed. Since I had to fill my days with something, I took over the household duties of cooking and cleaning.

One Christmas ( as a joke, I believe) the kids gave me a copy of the NY Times Best Seller Talking Dirty with the Queen of Clean, by Linda Cobb. What a treasure this book has become. If you want a complete lexicon for stain removals, spot cleaning and cleaning techniques and products, this is the book.

I love to share information with others about helpful products that work. If you have odor stains in carpet (urine, food, you name it) use Odorzout. You can get it at PetSmart. Works like a champ. For your wood floors, try Quick Shine and Quick Clean from Holloway House.

We just got a glass top cooking stove. It is attractive to look at, but cleaning can be difficult. Now I am a Nazi when it comes to clean. If I can't clean it, I don't want to use it. That's how bad it is. I am tyring a multi cleaning product called Barkeeper's Friend. So far, with a little elbow grease, that cook top looks great.
Yes. I need to get a life.

Halleluia, Haiku

2008-04-06T19:07:00.003-04:00

OK. So it isn't "Bad Haiku Friday." But I am into this thing. I taught English to Middle Schoolers 40 years ago. We studied Haiku poetry but that was it. Now I am humming in Haiku...singing in Haiku..thinking in Haiku. While listening to the Gospel this morning, two stanzas just popped in my head. Is the Holy Ghost speaking in the 5-7-5 syllabic mystical metre of Haiku? I really don't know!!...(See, 5 syllables!!! I'm going quite mad, With Haiku inspirations, From the Holy Ghost) AAYYYYY!!!!

Emmaus

Remain with us Lord
For the day will soon be spent
And the night is nigh.

We recognized Him
In the breaking of the bread,
And how our hearts burned.

Bad Haiku Friday

2008-04-04T16:27:00.002-04:00

Laura Fetters (www.teachermuse.blogspot.com) has inspired me to participate in "Bad Haiku Friday." ( I still am resisting "Confession Tuesday." Too personal)
Nevertheless, here goes:

The cell phone's a noose.
Its constant ringing robs me
Of my solitude.

Oh well, its a beginning.

My Mind is Green?

2008-03-31T20:01:00.004-04:00

OK. I have a new color on my blog page. So I went to Blogthings and take this test. "What color is your mind?" Whoa!! My interest is piqued. So I answer a few questions and...voila. My mind is GREEN. Algore would be proud.
There are five other color categories. And so being an incorrigible "Romantic" (not!!), I choose, "What is the color of your heart?" I answer a few questions, press enter...whirrrrr, bang, clank, ding, ding ding!!! My heart is (drum roll, please) PINK! ( If you knew me better, you would realize how specious this all is.) At any rate, one of the characteristics of a pink hearted guy is that his lover is "cuddly and dominant.... HMMMMM. Well, I guess it was half right....

Joy, Joy Joy. Tears of Joy

2008-03-28T21:40:00.003-04:00

So wrote the great philosopher, Blaise Pascal, in the testimony of his conversion in 1654. Pascal met the person of Jesus and he was never the same. He could only recount the experience as being overwhelmed with "light and fire." So impactful was this encounter, when he died at the young age of 39, a copy of his "Memorial," describing this experience, was found sewn in the lining of his vest.

I am reading Pascal again. The book is called The Mind on Fire, a summary of his Penses. And what a perfect time to read of joy and tears. They are both contained in the mystery of Easter..the tears of Good Friday..the joy of Easter.

This Easter was particularly joyful for me in light of the experience we had just undergone with the cancer surgery of my baby granddaughter, Little Eva. We have had tears and we have had joy. And in the center of this great mystery of suffering and trial, is Jesus.

Chesterton once wrote that to truly "see" something, you have to stare at it for some time until it becomes unfamiliar. How true that is. Catholics who are privileged to receive the Body and Blood of Christ in the Holy Eucharist, sometimes approach the altar as if they are consuming a Frito. Nothing special there.
Think about the promise of resurrection, which we celebrated last Sunday. " Ah yes, the tomb was empty and if I accept Christ, I will rise on the last day...Ho Hum!"
Apply the Chestertonian principle. Examine that statement as if you were a pagan and you are hearing the Gospel and the promise for the very first time!! What a difference.

I read somewhere that instead of women wearing a veil when they go to Mass, they should wear CRASH HELMETS!! We are in the presence of so much majesty..so much power..in the presence of the very Godhead..singing Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus with the very angels and saints in heaven. Oh Joy, Joy, Joy...Tears of Joy!!

"I See His Blood Upon The Rose"

2008-03-21T13:39:00.003-04:00

I see His blood upon the rose,
and in the stars the glory of His eyes.
His body gleams amid eternal snows,
His tears fall from the skies.

I see His face in every flower;
the thunder and the singing of the birds are but His voice---
and carven by His power, rocks are His written words.
All pathways by His feet are worn,
His strong heart stirs the ever beating sea.
His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn,
His cross is every tree.

Joseph Plunkett

Little Eva-- AMDG

2008-03-13T11:40:00.003-04:00

Little Eva got a great report from the oncologist. The surgeon was able to remove 98% of the tumor and the markers indicate that she does not need chemo or radiation. Just a CT every three months for two years. Needless to say, we are absolutely thrilled at the great miracle God has wrought...thanks to the prayers of so many people and, of course, the skill of the surgeons, doctors and nurses at Medical City Hospital in Dallas. "AMDG" is the motto of the Benedictine order of monks: Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam---To (for) the greater glory of God. May it be our motto as well, so that in all things, He may be honored and glorified.

10,000 BC-a review

2008-03-10T22:15:00.004-04:00

I did it again. Two movies in one month. And during Lent, mind you. ( Well, Sunday is not considered Lent.. but still..) My daughter Mary B was in town and with Ben and some of his Buds, I went to see 10,000 BC. Save your money, folks. BC stands for "Be Careful" or "Beware, Chump." Even if you can get a cheap, old person, reduced price ticket like I get, it's too painful to watch. Great computer graphics, I admit, but that can't sustain you for 1:45 minutes. The acting is so bad that it is laughable. Well, let's just say I would have probably felt better watching an afternoon episode of Oprah. Why do I think that a movie of this genre is going to be any less wretched than all of the rest I have seen that totally rely on graphics? OK. I've really learned this time. From now on it is just me, Turner Classic Movie Channel and a micro waveable 3.5 oz bag of Orville Reddenbacher.

People, who need people

2008-03-06T15:51:00.003-05:00

Yes, it was a sappy Streisand song. But I want to rise above that fact to cite the obvious: Yes. We are people...who need other people. This has become so clear to me over the last few days as we dealt with the cancer surgery of my granddaughter, Little Eva. (You can read about Little Eva at my daughter's blog: www.goodnightmom.blogspot.com )
If you have read any of my blogs, I tend to be a loner of sorts. Self-sufficient. Ever eager to help...but most reluctant to admit I need any. I have needed plenty over this last week. And it has come. From so many places: family members, bloggers, ticket clerks at airline counters, the Dallas police, physicians and nursing staff, even a restaurant chef in full regalia at Magiano's. The details of the encounters would be too much to write. Suffice it to say, that God has used this situation to break down some of the barriers I have put up within myself..some of the biases I have nursed unknowingly.

Much fruit will come from this situation with Little Eva. Miracles have, are and will continue to happen. Perhaps one of the small ones was unexpected and happened in me: Yes I knew I needed Jesus. But He does not come alone. He brings a retinue of His friends to help in His work. For by God's design, we are People...who need People.

Kick the Bucket List

2008-02-25T19:15:00.003-05:00

My loving spouse, St. Eva the Good and I, broke down and invested the princely sum of $30 to see The Bucket List, starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. The $30 included two senior admissions, two diet cokes and one bucket of popcorn. I only eat popcorn popped on-site; none of that stuff that is popped in Pittsburgh and shipped by UPS to theaters around the globe. And it must be popped in that special palm oil that clogs the arteries and shaves at least 30 minutes off your life span. I am very particular about my popcorn. But I digress.

The premise of the movie is a great one. Two men, perfect strangers, find themselves in the same hospital room sharing a diagnosis of terminal cancer. It was the Freeman character who began the "bucket list" -- a compilation of things he would like to do before he kicks the proverbial bucket. One reviewer wrote that the movie dies before the characters. That is a bit too harsh. Yes, it is a sappy movie and yes, I was unable to read the final credits because my eyes were a bit filled.

But as is my wont, I am always looking for the philosophical underpinnings of the plot. And there is plenty to chew on in this flick. Nicholson and Freeman are excellent. ( Have either of them ever made a bad movie?) And so I am inspired to compile my own list. Not that I am anticipating a premature demise...unless that palm oil does its heinous work in rapid fashion.

What amazed me as I tried to begin this enterprise was the realization that I really couldn't think of anything to put down. I am still thinking...still contemplating...there must be something to put on this d%$# list. No inspiration as yet. But stay tuned, Bloggers. Something will surface...maybe.

The Other Shoe

2008-01-17T20:02:00.000-05:00

"Ah, you are just a crepe hanger," my mother once said to me. " "You always dwell on the negative side of things. There is also a positive side in all circumstances. You need to see the glass half-full instead of half-empty..." Easy for her to say. My Mom was a perennial optimist. Always joyful..effervescent..the "lampshade on the head" person at the party. In fact she would be invited to parties just for the entertainment value she'd provide. This ever joylful part of her nature drove me absolutely crazy!!

It is hard to believe that I was not the result of an accidental switch in the OB-GYN nursery at DePaul Hospital when I arrived on Feb. 5, 1942. How could I have come from such an amazing personality only to wind up a composite of Norman Vincent Peale and Ebenezer Scrooge? Nontheless, that is what happened.

I had a close friend and spiritual advisor who was concerned about my prayer life. I like to pray alone...the more alone the better. Except for Holy Mass, I do not like being in a large crowd. And I like to pray the Liturgy of the Hours (the Office.) Although I do have a spontaneous side, I prefer a written and formalized prayer regimen. So this guy was concerned about me. He gave me a Myers-Briggs personality test. I came out an ISFJ. I'll not go into each of them, but the " I" stands for "introvert." In fact, he told me that in his 30 years of adminstering the test, he had never had a candidate score 27 out of the 28 questions that indicate introversion. So now I know why I like to pray alone! and so what, says I.

So when am I going to get to the title of this missive: The Other Shoe..
Perhaps you can guess based on what I told you about my somewhat pessimistic nature. You've all heard the adage about waiting for the "other shoe to drop.." well, that is how I live my life. I was an Economics teacher. They don't call that the "Dismal Science" for nothing. I loved Economics and is it any wonder? It fit my personality perfectly. How many jolly and optimistic economists do you know? Especially today.

And with the dire economic future that now awaits us, I close this post. We are hearing talk of stimulus packages, sub-prime mortgage crises, the plumeting value of the dollar. Everyone is looking to the Fed..to poor Ben Bernanke...like he can fix the mess. He wants to pump more money and more credit into the mix. That's like giving a child who has a stomach ache from too much ice-cream a bit of chocolate cake to cure his ill. No, Mr. Ben cannot stem the tide of adjustment that Mr. Market needs to make. "More Money...more credit," they shout...Ah, the sound of the other shoe.

Choosing THE Private School for Your Child

2008-01-10T18:47:00.000-05:00

This is an article that I wrote for Bink's newspaper, North Texas Kids. It appeared in the November 2007 edition.

Having spent more than thirty years in private school education, both as a teacher and administrator, I know all too well the dilemma that parents face when they begin the process of selecting THE school for their child. I had one parent call me from the hospital delivery room to inquire about the process for placing his newborn on our school's waiting list! Now, that is an extreme case, but it is illustrative of the pressures parents are under.

On the other hand, I could never understand why some parents would not flinch at the prospect of spending $40,000 to $50,000 annually at an Ivy League university but go through excruciating agony while contemplating a $5,000 tuition investment in their local parochial school. It would seem to be self-evident that the child's early formation is the most critical.

Since my whole career was at the primary and secondary level, I know there is great wisdom in Robert Fulghum's premise that everything he ever needed to know, he learned in kindergarten. And so before a parent wonders if little Johnny can make it at MIT, he needs to evaluate little Johnny's possible prospects at the local Montesorri.

Selecting the correct school for your child is not an easy matter, but can be most successful if two things are evaluated and developed beforehand:
1. What are the values of the parent?
2. What are the abilities of the student?
Now these seem to be too obvious to be profound, but the honest answers to these two questions will go a long way in assuring a good choice for the student. As to values, do I want a religious or secular environment? Is community status or the schooling of the parent coloring the choice? What about the financial component and possible budgetary sacrifices? For what period of time can I commit? PreK through 12th grade? Perhaps just early formation?

Measuring and assessing the ability and capacity of the child is the toughest of all and demands the most candid appraisal. Psychological evaluation is helpful and most every private school does some preliminary evaluation to measure the social and intellectual potential of a candidate. But frequently a parent does not want to hear the truth. As my daughter once told me, 'de-nile ain't only a river in Egypt.' To be completely fair to the child, the best scholastic environment is at the confluence of the two rivers of Parent Values and Student Abilities.

In the Dallas metropolitan area there are private schools to meet the needs of most every child. Parents need to perform 'due diligence' in their search for the ones that meet the criteria they have developed. This involves site visits, review of curricula, interviews with faculty who would be teaching the student, or perhaps even contact with existing parents.

While not an infallible guide, I always could tell a great deal about a school by walking across the campus and strolling the halls. (With approval, of course) Each one has its own uniqueness, ambience and ethos. Such variety is among the 'charms' of private schools compared to the oft-times unfortunate uniformity of government institutions. I realize that a school is much more than bricks and mortar but one can learn a great deal by paying close attention to the use, management and condition of its physical plant and grounds.

However, after selecting what one has hoped to be THE best choice, the ongoing evaluation should not cease. Nothing is more unfortunate for the child than to have an unsuccessful school experience, and yet be forced to remain due to parental pressure. Even the best professional football team has to 'drop-back and punt.' Keep searching until the right fit is found. Your child will be happier and so will you.

But in the final analysis, it must be realized that the school is meant only to reinforce the healthy social, intellectual and ethical formation that begins in the home. The Latin root for the word 'education' means to bring forth what is within. The school only polishes the marble that has been carefully chiseled by the parent artisans. It is unreasonable to expect otherwise. Parents are and must always remain the first teachers...the best teachers.

By-line: Gordon is a retired school administrator. After choosing THE right school for each of his eight children, he is quite the 'expert.' He often writes about these and other experiences in his blog, www.dad2eight.blogspot.com

O. Henry's Christmas Gift

2007-12-23T19:35:00.000-05:00

It was only recently that I re-discovered O. Henry's moving short story, "Gifts of the Magi." For those who might not be familiar with it, it can be sumarized as follows: A young married couple, very much in love but penniless, seek to give a meaningful gift to each with their limited resources. Della who has beautiful hair, sells it for $20 to buy her husband, Jim, a chain on which to hang his prized pocket watch. Jim however, has sold his watch to buy Della a set of jeweled combs so she could brush her golden hair. On Christmas Day, when they exchange the gifts, they experience the true meaning of Christmas...selfless, sacrificial love.

O. Henry helps us put even more clarity into the Christmas story. We have become so familiar with the Incarnation, God becoming Man, that it almost seems trivial. Yet what sacrificial love the Father demonstrated. God so loved us that He gave us Himself. Really, how important are the gifts that we exchange with each other? Perhaps not too much thought was given to their purchase. It was so easy to put it on Visa. Compare our giving habits with those of Jim and Della. They gave all that they held precious. Like the story of the widow's "mite" in the Gospel.

As a Christmas mediation after you have received the Sacrament of Holy Eucharist, place yourself in the stable at Bethlehem on that first Christmas night, and bring Jesus the three gifts that will validate the reason He came. Not gold, frankincense nor myrrh but the three gifts of your body, mind and spirit. The totality of your very self... a sacrificial gift that is a great token of your love for Him. And then proclaim to all you know that God is with us...for a babe has been born in Bethelehem.

The Dozier Family Christmas Letter-2007

2007-12-19T11:57:00.000-05:00

The Dozier Christmas Letter
December 2007

Laura Ingraham, my favorite talk show host, recently gave a long diatribe on the narcissistic nature of annual Christmas letters. “It’s all about ourselves and not about the One for whom the season really exists.” If you agree with her, then you need to go no farther. Here is the Readers Digest version:
Dyda is doing well. Eva is working. I am kinda working. Three kids at home, soon to be one. The other 5 are doing well, though we all have challenges. The End.

Now for those of you who might still want a few more details:
Dyda- (Gordon Sr.)- He turns 93 in March. Due to diabetes and poor circulation, he had his left leg amputated. But the man is undaunted. He handles this challenge with such grace. No bitterness. No complaining. His greatest pleasure is being around his great-grandchildren.

Gordon Jr- I work part time as bookkeeper in our parish, where I also lector, cantor and sing in the choir. Sang with the Moore County Chorus for Christmas concert. As I age, I find that I can reach base notes completely unknown when I was a “yute.” Also took up blogging. You can read some of them at Dad2eight.blogspot.com

St. Eva the Good- Is the Infection Control Practitioner at Scotland Memorial Hospital in Laurinburg. Has a 30 mile drive each way.(Bummer.) She plans to retire at age 65. (Is it Chapter 9 or 11 that we’ll be filing?). She has a job…I cook and clean. It works out well.

Gordo III- Currently lives in Manchester, Conn. He is a perpetual student. Has completed one Master’s degree and working on one more in theology. Just published his first book: The 12 Great Feasts of the Messiah and the Mother of God. (ecpubs.com ) Writing another: Holy is His Name: Meditations on the Mysteries of the Rosary through Eastern Icons ( I told Gordo to work on shorter titles next time.) Is an International Training Consultant for The Hartford and travels frequently to Japan, England and Ireland. Has chance of moving to Charlotte, NC. This would put all our kids but one in the same state …not confusion but North Carolina. (Wife: Karen- Kids: Daniel, Alex and Katie)

Kristi- (Binkster)- Lives in Dallas. Works for a newspaper, North Texas Kids. She writes a great deal and in the style of Erma Bombeck. Check out her delightful family observations at her blog at Goodnightmom.blogspot.com. She told me that after Jack’s recent visit with Santa Claus, he ran back to the jolly old gentleman and said, “Hey Santa, do you want to join us for dinner at the Pub?” What a guy! (Husband: Jonathan- Kids: Jack and Eva Jane)

Jonathan-(JJ)- Completing his Master’s degree in Management in May. Currently working as a Manager and Marketing Director for the Chik-fil-A in Southern Pines. He hopes to get his own store within a few years. Jay’s main hobby is fitness. He spends untold hours at Gold’s Gym and the First Health facility keeping those muscles finely tuned. (Kids: Jonathan Jr and Jacob, living in Atlanta with mother, Susan.)

Angel- Works part-time with the family business: Gulley’s Garden Center and Gulley Storage in Southern Pines. Seems like she is perpetually running a car pool to some kid event. Has her hands full maintaining her 4000 sq. ft. palace in CCNC (Country Club of North Carolina.) (Husband: Graham-Kids: Hannah, Claire, Davis) Recent theological observation from Claire: As Angel was pulling into her driveway, Claire opined, “Mommy, owah house is bwessed.” From the mouths of babes…

Benjamin- Now lives with us, occupying a portion of our finished basement. He shares it with John-Paul. We call it, The Man Pit. (Pit being the operative word.) He is working as a waiter with Chili’s Restaurant and will be attending Sandhills Community College in the Nursing program. Movies and video games are his hobbies. Despite a few set-backs in his life, he continues to be gentle in spirit. (Separated from wife Rebecca. Daughter Loralei.)

Nathaniel (Nipster)- Recently moved from living with his brother JJ in Aberdeen to Greensboro, NC. He is working full-time at The Doubletree Hotel. Will enroll at UNC-G next fall. He is engaged to a great girl, Vanessa Lopez and they plan to be married next year. Nippy is an avid gamer. He was president of the Sandhills Community College Gamers Club and is proficient in Dragon*Con. (You, of course, realize I have not one earthly clue what that is.) He attends an annual convention in Atlanta where people who are into this thing…congregate.

John-Paul (JP)- Lives in the aforementioned “Man Pit. He just received his Associates Degree from Sandhills Community College and hopes to go to UNC-Asheville in January. (Could it be his college choice was influenced by the fact that his girl friend, Rebecca, attends Mars Hill College just a few miles away?) He wants to be a Math teacher. (Let’s see: a Dozier and the word “Math” in the same sentence. How oxymoronic.) He has been working part-time at Chik-fil-A and the Sandhills Sports Center, a mega indoor sports facility. He also enjoys culinary arts, and on our phone during this last semester, he would periodically send us photos of his multi-tiered cakes and other creations.

Mary Bernadette (MB)- Just completed her last semester at Sandhills Community College and will be transferring to UNC-Greensboro in January. Her major is Hospitality Management. MB just returned from a trip to Germany and The Czech Republic. Mary has the combined organizational skills of Angel, coupled with the zest for life and the penchant for world travel of Binkster. When she leaves home, we may only see her semi-annually between trips.

May the peace of the Holy Family be yours this Christmas and throughout the year.

Sincerely,

The Doziers

In The Dark

2007-11-17T11:09:00.000-05:00

I have been doing a great deal of actual "thinking" lately. Take a second and try to remember the last time you settled yourself down and just began to "think." I think bloggers are thinkers. There is one I love to read: Catholic Teacher Musings.
Laura is a "muser" ie a "thinker." So I admire thinkers and am going to try to do more of it myself.

With that as an intro, I was thinking just the other day about our daily journey. Most people do not give it a thought...most do not even realize they are on one.. .a journey and odyssey that has a beginning, a middle and an end. I am a member of the Moore County Choral Society. ( At 66 I am the second youngest in the bass section.) I sit next to the junior member, whose name is Vince. Vince is an MD, a poet, a musician but most of all, he is a thinker. He tells me a great deal about his journey. We have great conversations though I, quite honestly, just do most of the listening.

Some of his musings (my apologies to Laura)reveal the intellectual and spiritual agony that a life's journey can have. He senses that despite all of his talents, he is still unfulfilled..he questions God, his faith, his future. He thinks that God is too arbitrary and capricious in His dealings with man. "Why would He give us rules and regulations that no man can follow?" he observes.

I am no apologist and my feeble responses are less than satisfactory. But I am seeing the deep pain and anguish of a man who is In The Dark. This is not an unusual place to be. Great saints have had darkness..St. John of the Cross, St. Theresa of Avila and Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, who lived more than 40 years without any sense of the Divine Presence in her life. But in the darkness, God evidently chooses to do wonderful things in souls. I think, however, that I'll take a pass on that.

Again, as I was doing that most dangerous exercise...thinking...I had a thought. Christians give their hearts to Christ and then expect to have an easy time of it. Certain Evangelical preachers blame those in distress as lacking faith...not trusting
enough in God's providence. To those preachers, I say ...humbug!! The Christian life is oftentimes not a walk in the park, but a walk in the dark!!! God has a customized journey for each of us. And for many it includes periods, perhaps long stretches, of darkness. And this is what I hope to share with Vince. I want to say, "Vince, you are a favored soul in the eyes of God. 1000 questions do not make one doubt, as Cardinal Newman said. Question while in the darkness but hope for the light. Vince, Psalm 23 was written just for you: even though I walk in the valley of darkness I will fear no evil...For Thou art with me. Vince, though you don't see Him in these woods of darkness, feel His Hand and repeat over and over again...For Thou Art With Me...."

Change

2007-11-14T18:43:00.001-05:00

Change. How I hate it. I'm not talking about a pocket full of coins, although I hate that too! No, I am talking about transitions, for the lack of a better term. I look in the mirror each day and I wonder who the H$#% that is looking back at me? A graphic illustration of change. Where is that handsome 180 pound guy, with jet black hair and sensuous blue eyes? It seems as if he were here but last week but now he seems to have vanished..only to be replaced by some grey-haired, wrinkled, chubby visage that I hardly recognize. And how is it that my oldest child is 40 and my baby turns 20 in a few weeks? For not only is change apparent, it is subtle as well. While it is occurring, we are oblivious to it.

Greek philosophers were the first to study it. I think it was Parmenides who observed that even though the river is one, you can never put your foot in the same place twice. The Greeks observed that it is man's desire to be one, whole and unchangeable, but the unity and unchangeable nature of the soul conflicts with the multiplicity and decaying nature of the body. Of course, the Greeks didn't know about the Garden of Eden...about man before the fall. Some Scripture scholars tell us that before original sin, there was no change...no chronological time and therefore, no death. So, there's the rub. Death. That is what we instinctively hate. Just as death was unnatural to the sinless man at the beginning, there is a residual loathing and fear of it in every human since Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden.

Fortunately, in Christian belief, there will be an end to change and, therefore, death. At the coming of Christ at the end of time, all of the cosmos will be renewed and restored. Not just planet earth. This is God's gift to fallen man and a fallen world. For as James reminds us: Every good and perfect gift is from above, from the Father of Light, in whom there is no change or shadow of a turning. (James 1:17) Perhaps on that day I'll again see that handsome, 180 pound guy with jet black hair and those sensuous blue eyes. Maranatha!

Late Have I Loved Thee...

2007-10-12T20:33:00.000-04:00

"Late have I loved thee, O beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved thee."
OK all you lovers of a finely turned poetic phrase. Who wrote this? Shakespeare? No! Browning? Nay! Maya Angelou (egad..parce nobis, Domine.) No way, Jose. No this beautiful phrase was written by one of my favorite Church Fathers, St. Augustine. I am a sucker for a well-crafted sentence. Just recently I was reading G.K. Chesterton. Listen to this description of a cold winter's eve: The thousand arms of the forest were grey, and its million fingers silver. In a sky of dark-green-blue-like slate, the stars were bleak and brilliant like splintered ice. Now this is a work of art. Like a sculpted piece of marble. I enjoy savoring such phrases when I find them. Smelling the fragrance and sipping them like a rare, fine wine. When I read Augustine, my heart literally...well it literally swooned. (OK. Am I going mad?)

Augustine (+430 AD) lived the first 30 years of his life as a pagan profligate. When he was converted by the grace of God, his unremitting search for Love was ended. And in this realization he continues ever so beautifully:
You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you.
In my unlovliness, I plunged into the lovely things which you created...
You called. You shouted. You broke through my deafness.
You flashed, you shone and dispelled my blindness.
You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you.
I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more.
You touched me and now I burn for your peace....

Who says that saints are not sensual and passionate even in their spirituality? Only a man in love could ever write like this. As a convert at age 32, Augustine's words are my own: Late have I loved Thee...O so late have I loved Thee...

Ground Rush

2007-09-28T20:27:00.000-04:00

We recently had a family meeting around the dining room table. 6 of our 8 were dutifully there along with Eva and Dyda- (aged 92.). Without going into all of the personal details, the purpose was to let those still dawdling in their pursuit of a college degree and a career know that they had 2.5 years to get it done. Mom would be retiring and the Bank of DAD ATM machine would close for good.
There were other issues discussed, I felt it was time that the they enroll in the ecole realite!! And the reality is simply this: the good times that the American economy has enjoyed are soon to be over. We already see it happening and with such suddenness. ---Housing values down, real estate sales down 21.5%, the dollar equal in value to the Canadian Loonie!! One does not need to be a rocket scientist to figure it out: the days of Americans borrowing to purchase what they don't need with money they don't have es no mas.
The times that my kids are to inherit are going to be difficult for establishing careers. My career recommendations? Health Care (all of us old people are going to need it) and Law Enforcement (I predict domestic criminals and foreign terrorists will increase exponentially.)
OK. Call me a "Gloomy Gus." I am not alone. I was reading one financial newsletter writer who recommended that we "buy gold, bury it in the backyard and buy ammo." Talk about gloomy!!
I read a great analogy that encapsulates all of this. Its called the "ground rush." Our life is like skydiving. We jump from the plane, and even though we are falling, we see the scenery, the horizon, our fellow divers and think all is just wonderful. But soon, you see the ground rush. It comes fast. You pull the chute. Hopefully, it opens and is big enough to give you a safe landing.
Oh, my friends, the applications of this analogy are almost limitless: preparing for old age? retirement funds? Your spiritual life? Living your life with no thought of the parachute: is it large enough?..do I even have one? Oh well..No matter. Ben Bernanke will just lower interest rates another 1/4 % and all will be well. But when we least expect it, the ground rush!!!!
My Dad closed the meeting with just a few powerful words: No matter how bad it gets, you always have your family. We always did things together and we can always depend on each other. And that, dear friends pretty well sums it up. It is like the final scene in one of my favorite movies, Moonstruck. After all the tumult in the life of each member at the kitchen table, it all ends with a toast in Italian..glasses raised..."to the Family!! a la Famiglia." The camera fades and pans to a close-up of an aging photograph of the two immigrant parents who started it all. The End...and I am in tears. "To the Family."

The Mourning After...

2007-09-11T11:51:00.000-04:00

It must be a "guy thing," but I pride myself on my ability to control my emotions when it comes to death. Maybe it is a psychological defect, but I hold back the tears. However, the mourning after Pavarotti's death was too much for me to control. There I was sitting at the computer watching a YouTube video of his last performance of "Nessun Dorma." The dam broke. Sobs!. Warm moisture running copiously down my cheeks..(tears, maybe?) It was a shameless exhibition. My daughter, Mary, came over and gave me a big hug. "It's alright, Dad." My ever sympathetic wife told someone, " I think your Dad is going through something." How could she understand? Maybe because I am a bass who always wanted to be a tenor. And maybe because the absolute best tenor in any generation was no longer able to thrill us with the majesty of his God-given talent. Believe me, no one can sing "Nessun Dorma" like Luciano.
Well its several days later. I managed to find the lyrics to "Nessun Dorma" and have been singing it in his memory. (What a desecration of such beautiful music). "Hey, Luciano. Save a place for me in that heavenly choir. Unfortunately, you will find me in the bass section." R.I.P

"You are that Roman"

2007-08-31T18:05:00.000-04:00

Recently, all of the children (except the Binkster) came home for a visit. One evening, it was suggested that all of us, adults, children and grandchildren, watch a "hilarious" comedic bit by Rowan Atkinson. In this routine, Atkinson is dressed like a priest and reads a "spoofed up" version of the Gospel story: The Marriage Feast of Cana. And I must say, it was hilarious. We all gathered around and laughed until our sides ached.

After it was over, I walked away and began to have feelings of guilt. Was that a blasphemous presentation? Was I complicit in the comedian's blasphemy? What kind of example was I setting? After all, I am the "Pater Familias" and all that. After a 3 minute wrestle with the matter, I chalked it up to over-scrupulosity, figuring that God probably enjoyed it too.

Things were fine until Sunday morning Mass. After communion, I returned to my pew to begin my typical 45 second meditation. You know the kind: "Thank you , Jesus," for this and "thank you, Jesus," for that. However, the Holy Spirit had other plans. As soon as I closed my eyes, I saw Jesus, wearing a red robe and crown of thorns seated in the midst of a cadre of Roman soldiers, laughing and having a wonderful time. One soldier bowed profoundly before Jesus and mockingly said, " Hail, King of the Jews." His compatriots roared with laughter. But then the Holy Spirit said to me: "You are that Roman!" I wept.. Wept in repentance. This was God...and I was being chastised.

I share this with you because each of us has probably been guilty of this kind of behavior. The culture and our secular milieu encourages us to disparage what is holy. But Jesus is God or He is not. He is to be worshipped and adored or He is not. He is to be lovingly respected in His Divinity or He is not. There is no middle ground. Look how Muslims react when Mohamed is maligned. Why? because he is important to them. And so I ask this challenging question: Is Jesus important to you or, like me, are you that Roman?!

What I learned from Sister Albertine

2007-07-30T16:19:00.000-04:00

Even though there was a time in my life when I was a teacher, I realize now that I have always been a "learner." More so now, perhaps, then ever before. And my greatest learning experiences, upon reflection, happened to me when I was in grade school, especially in the second grade with Sr. Albertine.

I was privileged to go to parocchial schools all the way from the first grade through high school. I therefore had the distinct pleasure to having women religious (aka-nuns) all the way through. But If you think you are going to read a diatribe about how abusive they were and how I am now a "fallen away" because of their classroom "terror" tactics, you are going to be sadly disappointed.

In 1948, at the tender age of 6, I met Sr. Albertine.... second grade teacher at St. Mary's Academy. The Daughters of Wisdom wore real habits in those days. She kinda' looked like the Dutch Cleanser lady. ( You are really old if you can remember the Dutch Cleanser lady!) Tall and slender (she seemed to be 8 feet tall to me), she wore metal rimmed glasses that perched perilously on the edge of her long, gallic nose. She spoke French fluently, and when we were disorderly, a stream of beautifully sounding though fiercely pronounced words would come forth. Whatever disarray was ongoing, immediately ceased when Sister spoke French. We new it was a danger signal.

Thirty-six children in one 2nd grade classroom. No resouce teachers...no special assistants...just Sr. Albertine. It was 36 to 1, but with Sr. Albertine in charge, we were outnumbered big time. So what did my wonderful year with Sr. Albertine teach me? Several things:

1) Management skills- it is possible to control large groups of individuals simply with the force of a presence, a fierce glance and a few well chosen French phrases.

2) Organizational skills- My bookbag looked like my room when I began second grade. But Sr. Albertine would periodically do "search and seizure" missions. Ones book bag had better been organized to pass muster. God forbid a left over "PB&J" or small toy be found lurking in the bag's folds and corners. No student ever wanted to be on the receiving end of one of Sr. Albertine's piercing glances. By the time May rolled around, I had a bookbag that a bank exec would have been proud of.

3) Timeliness- Sister never bought into "the dog ate my homework," or some of the other feeble excuses we could craft.. When it was due, by God it was due! Late getting to school? Even if the d$%# bus broke down, she was not happy... No excuses! Just ask my children if the indelible time and date stamp implanted by Sr. Albertine has not lasted until this very day?

4) Line skills- Having to line up or even waiting in lines, has never bothered me. Parochial school trained me well. We lined up to go to class, ...to go to recess, ...to go to the boys room, ...to go to lunch , ...to go home at day's end. And the lines had to be straight-woe betide any rambunctious lad who squirmed out of position. "But Sistah, I got ADD" would have been useless, even if it had even been tried!

5) Last but not least, the Faith--Oh how very grateful I am to Sr. Albertine and all of the consecrated women who taught me the Catholic Faith over those years. What a gift I received, since most of those in the post Vatican II era grew up basically uncatechised! From Question #1 in Grade 1 to Question #479 in Grade 8, the Baltimore Catechism helped form a solid basis for my fledgeling Catholic Faith.

So, don't take me to a production of Nunsense..or force me to watch Whoopie Goldberg in a nun's habit demeaning the women who gave up their entire life to make sure that I not only learned how to read and write, but more importantly, that I learn Question #1 --that indeed, God is the Supreme Being who made all things. And as if that were not enough, I learned the answer to Question #2 ---He made me to know, love and serve Him, in this world so that I can be happy with Him in this life and in the next. -----Thank you, Sr. Albertine.

Confessions of an i Pod Addict

2007-07-23T18:50:00.000-04:00

For Father's Day, each of my 8 children contributed the princely sum of $25 so that I could purchase an i Pod. This is an unlikely gift for a 65-year-old who used to constantly berate "yutes" for listening to those things seemingly 24/7, with no regard to the "existential realities" going on around them. Our culture is already too isolationist and self-absorbed. I Pods, for me, signal the end of civilization as we know it.

And besides: when would I ever use the thing? A lot of old people like me use it while jogging at the gym. But I use that time for saying my rosary...the i Pod would interfere with my already bedraggled prayer life. In the car? But I have XM Radio. Over 125 channels covering every possible taste. At home? After all my lectures about listening to an i Pod in the presence of another with whom meaningful dialogue might ensue? It would be hypocritical. "T'will gather dust," or so I thought.

Fortunately for me, my son Nathaniel set the unit up on the computer. If such an enterprise depended on me, the unit now would indeed be rather dusty. It started simply enough. One short organ Toccata by Widor. One song to which, surprisingly, I listened to again and again. I must say, I was proud of myself for at least getting it on the unit. Best 99 cents I ever spent.

But even Widor gets old after 45 renditions. So lo and behold, there was this entire album: The Last Night of the Proms. Only $9.99! 15 songs by the BBC Orchestra. Well, at least I'll have something more than Widor to listen to. And so I did it. A few buttons and my American Express bill was just a little bit heavier. OOO, so easy. Too easy.

I was finding I had lots of opportunites to listen to the thing. But then again, one cannot live on "God Save the Queen" forever.! More exploration on what was becoming my favorite place to shop, the iTunes Store, opened up a whole new world of opportunities. And presently, in less than 6 weeks, I sit with $114.00 on my American Express card and 20% of my "gigs" used up. I was getting hooked...no...I am hooked!

And what do I use it for? Well, it has become a dandy aid to my prayer life, oddly enough. I pray the Office and have spiritual reading selections each day and so:

I have the monks of Solemns Abbey chanting Gregorian during Morning Prayer.

For my "spirtual reading," The Roots of Christian Mysticism by Clement), I listen to the the energetic chanting of a choir of monks from a Russian Orthodox Monastery. You haven't lived until you have heard the bass line sung by a Russian Orthodox monk. It defies description!

Evening prayer has become a real delight. I have two albums of "New Age" music by Steven Halpern. They are designed for peaceful yoga meditation, but, heck. Throw a little holy water on them and claim them for Christ, I say! Since the electronic piano and organ is generally centered around one note, I can chant the psalms and create some pretty good harmonies. (Why is it that my wife frowns when she walks past? I'm having a great time.)

And even though it probably violates some law, I find myself listening to my array of 44 Country hits when behind the wheel. (Allison Kraus, Toby Keith and even a couple of Willie Nelsons, et al.)

So there you have it. My true confession. Who would have thought that this device would be such a vital part of my life? I only hope that this blog might be read by the holy monks on Mt. Athos. With an i Pod they could make such quantum leaps in their prayer life!

What I am learning from my Dad

2007-07-17T23:01:00.000-04:00

My father now lives with me and has for the last 2 years. Before that time, he lived in Norfolk, Va in the same house for 62 years, had been married to my mother for 53 years until she died and had worked for the same company for 46 years until he retired at 65. As one can see, consistency and constancy are the bedrocks of his character.

Even though I lived in the same house with him until I went to college, I can honestly say, I really didn't know him very well. He was quiet, laconic and very athletic. I was loud, verbose and couldn't hit a baseball if my life depended on it. We just didn't have a lot in common, or so it seemed to me. And so life went on. I moved around a great deal and contact with him was only 25 words or less during a periodic phone call.

As I mentioned before, Dad was a man of steel..physically and morally. He wasn't a church goer, but having been raised in a Masonic orphanage in Richmond, he was grounded in Christian values. It was these values that formed his solid character, a character that I have only now begun to fully discover and appreciate.

Since Dad is a diabetic, circulation problems recently cost him his left leg. It has been a struggle to adjust to this challenge, but he never ceases to amaze me. Using his prosthetic leg, he has astounded the Physical Therapist with his progress. But then again, Dad is a "jock." Even at 92. Here is a guy that shot his age (83) until by-pass surgery forced him to give up golf.

Seeing him in his present circumstance has been painful for me. But he continues to teach me, even as he did when I was too young to appreciate it. And what have I learned from him? Many things:

Never complain--Dad has yet to ever complain that he has gotten a raw deal. On the contrary, he quietly adjusts his life to his challenges and simply does what he has to do to be as self-sufficient as possible.

Appreciate each moment-- "It looks like its going to be a great day," he tells me as I help him to his potty chair.

Be patient-- Patience has never been my strong suit. It has always been one of his virtues. If he is lying on the bed wating for me to wheel him to dinner or elsewhere, he doesn't call out or fuss about the delay. "I knew you'd be in here sometime. No problem."

Love--and this is the big lesson. When you are around him, you know you are in the presence of a man who loves. We were never affectionate with each other. No hugs. Men of his generation just didn't do that. But I always knew that he was there for me..he would support me..he would encourage me. Although I would not have verbalized it then, I now can say he loved me. And so each evening as I give him his last dosage of pills for the day, I pull the covers up under his chin. "Snug me in," he says with a smile. I pat his right leg as I walk from the room. "Thanks, Big Guy," he says. "See ya tomorrow."