Friday, February 8, 2013

In the Dead of Winter

In the dead of winter
midway between the solstice and the equinox
the light of Christmas and the gloom of Lent
remember trees give wood
for crèches, cradles, crosses, crucifixes
(a crucifix was called a “tree”)
Jesus’ Tree took His life and gave us His
On it He died
in a Cradle He was a newborn
The Tree points back to the Cradle
Man owed God a debt
A man had to pay it because Man owed it
God had to pay it because it was owed to God
so God became Man
He was born to die
The upright goes from earth to heaven
The crossbar reaches all space and time
Jesus’ "tree" is the center of all things.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

I have a bone to pick . . .

I have a bone to pick with people who talk about the "narrow-minded" and "repressive" and "un-diverse" education in parochial schools in the 1950s. I daresay most of them weren't even twinkles in their parents' eyes (especially if they were born after 1962 when I graduated from high school).


Just to take a few examples:

Arithmetic: we were expected to master the multiplication table up to 12x12 in 3rd grade, and short division in 4th grade. We were introduced to fractions, decimals, percentages, and the rudiments on geometry in 5th and 6th grades, and the practical applications of arithmetic in 7th and 8th grades. I have the books. One time in the early or mid 90s I took my eighth-grade arithmetic book to the office, and graduate engineers were astounded by what I was expected to know by age 14.

Reading: Our readers had stories about children all over the world, plus stories of life on the frontier, and folk and fairy tales from all over the world. I have the books.

Fourth grade geography: we learned about other lands and the children who lived in them; I can remember the pygmy hunter-gatherers of Malaya, Mongol children on the Siberian steppe, Indian children in the Andes, kids on a dairy farm in Wisconsin, USA, Inuit kids (Eskimos as they were called then) in Alaska.

About fourth grade-fifth grade, there were monthly publications in comic-book format called "Junior Catholic Messenger" and "Young Catholic Messenger." One year there was a nine-part series on various immigrant groups to America, and another year there was a nine-part series on human anatomy and physiology (they left out sex and reproduction because we didn't need to know that yet, we were too young; and because the philosophy of the school was -- note well! -- that it was our parents' job to teach that).

Fifth and sixth grades we learned the basics of world history and geography, and in seventh and eighth grades we learned the basics of American history. I have the books.

We had gym starting in fifth grade.

We had music all eight years. Besides teaching us the basics of reading music, the music books had classical melodies, folk tunes from all over the world, and folk dances. (I think it was in fifth grade we learned "La Cucuracha," of course a very clean version.) I have the books.

Of course we had religion all eight years, taught according to our ability to understand it, and we were expected to memorize it. Of course it was "packed" and drilled in, I think in the hope that as we grew up and survived our rebellious years (which our teachers knew we would have) we would remember it and could unpack it. I remember vividly being struck hard in my thirties by the very first question in the Baltimore Catechism: "Who made you?" "God made me." That popped into my head again and I said to myself, "That means Pop and Ma only helped!"

We got what I think was a superb foundation for life.

So please don't tell me how bad it was in the 1950s if you weren't there. Thanks.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

First time since summer 1961

Twenty .38 special rounds through a Ruger Blackhawk
at a life-size silhouette target at 21 feet.
3 in the X zone
1 on the line of X and 10
1 in the 10 zone
7 in the 9 zone
5 in the 8 zone
3 in the 7 zone
none elsewhere, no misses.
I think I did pretty well!
I know I did better than I thought I would.
I'm grateful for the gun control Pop taught me when I was a kid! --
Aim carefully, pull gently.

Sunday, January 6, 2013

A Curious Dream

I just woke up from a very curious dream, a mix of memory and fantasy.

I had been summoned to the office where I worked for some unspecified reason.  I dressed up very nice because it was hinted there were Important People that I had to talk to.  When I got there, the anteroom of the boss' office was full of people, most of whom I didn't know.  I tried to find out what was going on and how it affected me, but couldn't.

So I decided to go to my cubicle and do some work while I was waiting.  I had a hard time finding it, because it was tucked back at the end of a sort of maze, it was a tiny corner, and it didn't even have enough room for the computer I needed to work.  In its place there was a brand-new compact little machine that I had no idea even how to turn on, let alone operate.

I went looking for a snack and coffee, and wandered lots of empty halls until I found the snack bar.  It was tiny and underequipped, and there was little there for me.  While I was there, someone came and told me I had to report to the boss' office.  So I set out for it, looking for a toilet on the way, and couldn't find one.  When I got there, people were talking about their careers with the organization; the guy next to me got so upset that he couldn't talk any more, started crying, and slid out of sight under the sofa.

It wasn't my turn yet, so I went out, again looking for a toilet.  I wandered through what seemed like miles of empty halls lined with vacant offices.  I ran into an old pal of mine who had started at the organization about the same time I did.  We smiled, compared notes, and decided that there was no place for us here anymore, and we might as well retire and be done with it.  They weren't giving us the equipment we needed to do our jobs, and the young folks had no time or inclination to take advantage of our 30 years or so of experience.

That was where the dream ended and I woke up.

There were a lot of other little details, most unrelated.  The main  theme of it all seems to me that my time is up and it's time to move on . . . whatever that means.  It could be almost anything.

Saturday, January 5, 2013

Miscellaneous

A basketball comes into a bar and orders a beer.
"I'm not serving you," says the bartender.  "You dribble."

I have begun to suspect that very few Yeti are Catholic.

Monday, December 24, 2012

Lewis knew what was going on!

Preliminary note: I found a two-tape movie of The Silver Chair, Book 4 of the Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis; so naturally I had to read the book again, and then I had to read all the rest.  These quotes are taken from the last book, The Last Battle, and they tell me that Lewis could see, even in 1956, where Western Civilization was going.  (By the way, when I read about Shift and Puzzle in the beginning, where Shift the Ape finds a lion skin and puts it on Puzzle the Donkey to pass him off as Aslan, I actually got angry.)

    "No, no, no," howled the beasts.  "It can't be true.  Aslan would never sell us into slavery to the King of Calormen."
    "None of that!  Hold your noise!" said the Ape with a snarl.  "Who said anything about slavery?  You won't be slaves.  You'll be paid -- very good wages too.  That is to say, your pay will be paid in to Aslan's treasury and he will use it all for everybody's good."

    "Now don't you start arguing," said the Ape.  ...  "What do you know about freedom?  You think freedom means doing what you like.  Well, you're wrong.  That isn't true freedom.  True freedom means doing what I tell you."

    "Please," said the Lamb, "I can't understand.  What have we to do with the Calormenes?  We belong to Aslan.  They belong to Tash.  They have a god called Tash.  They say he has four arms and the head of a vulture.  They kill Men on his altar.  I don't believe there's any such person as Tash.  But if there was, how could Aslan be friends with him?"
    All the animals cocked their heads sideways and all their bright eyes flashed towards the Ape.  They knew it was the best question anyone had asked yet.
    The Ape jumped up and spat at the Lamb.
    "Baby!  he hissed.  "Silly little bleater!  Go home to your mother and drink milk.  What do you understand of such things?  But you others, listen.  Tash is only another name for Aslan.  All that old idea of us being right and the Calormenes wrong is silly.  We know better now.  The Calormenes use different words but we all mean the same thing.  Tash and Aslan are only two different names for you know Who.  That's why there can never be any quarrel between them.  Get that into your heads, you stupid brutes.  Tash is Aslan: Aslan is Tash."

    They did not try to comfort one another with words.  It wasn't very easy to think of anything to say that would be comforting.  Tirian had never dreamed that one of the results of an Ape's setting up a false Aslan would be to stop people from believing in the real one.

    In the shadow of the trees on the far side of the clearing something was moving.  It was gliding very slowly Northward.  At first glance you might have mistaken it for smoke, for it was grey and you could see things through it.  But the deathly smell was not the smell of smoke.  Also, this thing kept its shape instead of billowing and curling as smoke would have done.  It was roughly the shape of a man but it had the head of a bird; some bird of prey with a cruel, curved beak.  It had four arms which it held high above its head, stretching them out Northward as if it wanted to snatch all Narnia in its grip; and its fingers -- all twenty of them -- were curved like its beak and had long, pointed, bird-like claws instead of nails.  It floated on the grass instead of walking, and the grass seemed to wither beneath it.

    "What was it?" said Eustace in a whisper.
    "I have seen it once before," said Tirian.  "But that time it was carved in stone and overlaid with gold and had solid diamonds for eyes.  It was when I was no older than thou, and had gone as a guest to the Tisroc's court in Tashbaan.  He took me into the great temple of Tash.  There I saw it, carved above the altar."
    "Then that -- that thing -- was Tash?" said Eustace.

    "It seems, then," said the Unicorn, "That there is a real Tash, after all."
    "Yes," said the Dwarf.  "And this fool of an Ape, who didn't believe in Tash, will get more than he bargained for!  He called for Tash:  Tash has come."
    "Where has it -- he -- the Thing -- gone to?" said Jill.
    "North into the heart of Narnia," said Tirian.  "It has come to dwell among us.  They have called it and it has come."

    "Do leave me alone," muttered Shift.  But he sat up straighter and began, in a louder voice ---
    "Now listen, all of you.  A terrible thing has happened.  A wicked thing.  The wickedest thing that ever was done in Narnia.  And Aslan --- "
    "Tashlan, fool," whispered Rishda Tarkaan.
    "Tashlan I mean, of course," said the Ape, is very angry about it."
    There was a terrible silence while the Beasts waited to hear what new trouble was in store for them.  The little party by the end-wall of the stable also held their breath.  What on earth was coming now?
    "Yes," said the Ape.  "At this very moment, when the Terrible One himself is among us -- there in the stable just behind me -- one wicked beast has chosen to do what you'd think no one would dare to do even if He were a thousand miles away.  It has dressed itself up in a lion-skin and is wandering around these very woods pretending to be Aslan."
    Jill wondered for a moment if the Ape had gone mad.  Was he going to tell the whole truth?  A roar of horror and rage went up from the Beasts.  "Grrr!" came the growls.  "Who is he?  Where is he?  Just let me get my teeth into him!
    "It was seen last night," screamed the Ape, "but it got away.  It's a donkey!  A common, miserable Ass!  If any of you see that Ass ----"
    "Grrr!" growled the beasts.  "We will, we will.  He'd better keep out of our way."
    Jill looked at the King: his mouth was open and his face was full of horror.  And then she understood the devilish cunning of the enemies' plan.  By mixing a little truth with it they had made their lie far stronger.  What was the good, now, of telling the Beasts than an ass had been dressed up as a lion to deceive them?  The Ape would only say, "That's just what I've said."  What was the good of showing them Puzzle in his lionskin?  They would only tear him in pieces.  "That's taken the wind out of our sails," whispered Eustace.  "The ground is taken from under our feet," said Tirian.  "Curst, curst cleverness!" said Poggin.

    "Throw them into the shrine of Tash," said Rishda Tarkaan.
    And when the eleven Dwarfs, one after the other, had been flung or kicked into that dark doorway and the door had been shut again, he bowed low to the Stable and said:
    "These also are for thy burnt offering, Lord Tash."
    And all the Calormenes banged the flats of their swords on their shields and shouted, "Tash!  Tash!  The great god Tash!  Inexorable Tash!"  (There was no nonsense about "Tashlan" now.)

---------- Tash was called and it has come. ----------

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Things could be worse

I didn't sleep well . . . as usual.
There's about 7" or 8" of snow on the ground, heavy wet stuff
(The temp. is 30º and the humidity is 78%),
and my knees hurt, along with a few other things.
But I feel just great,
because I went to confession yesterday.