Friend Augusta responded Saturday evening to the email that catalyzed the previous posting here, and weighed in gently on the heart-churning issues that have been occupying me: 

—–Original Message—–
From: Augusta Lovelace [mailto: AgustaLovelace@CondeNast.net]
Sent: Saturday, February 14, 2009 9:02 PM
To: ‘Aging Child’
Subject: Re: Hi, Augusta!  

Hi Gene, 

I was very happy to hear that your Mother is leaving rehab within a short time. That is wonderful news. It will probably be an emotional boost for her to be with your sister and get back to a somewhat more “normal” routine. I know when my Mother had been hospitalized and then came home, her whole demeanor changed. It was as if she took a deep sigh as if to say “ah, I’m home”. It did wonders for her to be in familiar surroundings with familiar people. 

Your brother Sarge will be in my thoughts and prayers. What a difficult position to be in. I feel sorry for his wife especially speaking very little English. She is fortunate to have all of you there to help and support her. I wish more people understood and appreciated the sacrifices that our military make. 

As far as the job hunt goes, I certainly hope that you find one soon. It is a difficult time to be searching for one. As i’ve said before, finding a job is like having a job. It takes so much effort. 

Now as far as your “rekindled” friendship with Guinevere. You sound as if you are stressing out more about that, than your job hunt. You are so fortunate – finding her again was a gift! As you have said, she has been through tough times in her life and for all you know she may feel the same way you do but is taking the practical route for the time being by following her head instead of her heart. “Oh ye of little faith”. Have patience – be patient. Many life-long relationships started out as friendships. I never knew of a kind and decent man ever running a woman off. 

As far as you being conflicted with your thoughts of becoming a priest, friar, etc. that is another whole ball of wax. I think that would take some soul searching. Although I believe there are many ways you could serve your “fellow man” that would be just as effective, if not more, than becoming a priest, friar, etc. “The color of the package has no bearing on what’s inside”. If the desire is there it won’t make a difference if you are dressed in robes, a suit and tie or bermuda shorts and a tee-shirt and if the desire is there – you will find a way – and who knows, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have a partner along side of you to take the journey. I believe Guinevere came along in your life at this moment for a reason – maybe someone has a bigger plan for you. I say we all need to enjoy what is in the here and now – it will give us some wonderful memories to talk about when we’re old and dodgy. 

So now that I have forced my little “philosophical tidbits” on you, I will close for now and hope that you just enjoy the time you spend with Guinevere and let the relationship slowly evolve. Exhale! 

Talk to you soon, 

Augusta 

Guinevere and I had spoken that evening, and our short conversation lifted the great weight. Augusta’s email supplemented the peace further; I wrote back: 

—–Original Message—–
From: Aging Child [mailto:AGeneChilde@YouWho.com]
Sent: Sunday, February 15, 2009 12:42 PM
To: ‘Augusta‘
Subject: RE: Hi, Augusta!  

Good afternoon, Augusta: 

And thank you for your kind words and support for the many things pulling hard at my heart and attention lately! 

Yes, Mother’s certainly been itching for as much of a return to normal as possible – and the possibilities themselves, speaking of which, keep looking better. Her spirit is very upbeat; she has darned few “down” days, and has buoyed us nicely, as we can clearly see we’ve been doing for her. The change of scenery to something even more homelike than the already-homelikeness of her rehab facility… will bolster and encourage her (and us!) even further. 

My brother: Sarge was in greater danger in 1991 when he was over in that neighborhood (mostly Kuwait and Saudi Arabia) during Desert Storm. It was tougher on us then, since it was much harder for him to get word out to us (and harder yet for us to get a note to him). Now he has occasional access to email (long lines, but this is still so much better than before), and reassurances can flow much more easily… both ways, too. 

With a sudden, dizzying flurry of interviews, plus some upcoming shorter-term assignments already committed to, things are looking better for me jobwise – at the very least, several good possibilities are much more closer in reach. And every interview, even at very worst, is still real-world practice for the next, giving me opportunities to further refine how I present myself and sell my strengths to those companies that definitely need them. 

And re Guinevere… well, I was writing after a troubled night of lost sleep, and a heavy, unshakeable dread that my opening up to her that evening might have cast a doubtful light on my motivations for appreciating and valuing our friendship. (I hadn’t meant to unload on you… so thank your for those “little philosophical tidbits“!) More than once in my life I’ve put my foot (or heart) in my mouth at a particularly vulnerable moment, and suddenly found myself, head still spinning, standing in the ruins, alone. 

So the heavy depression – despair, almost – surrounded and enwrapped me so much of the day, and this is the shape I was in when I wrote. But that evening, while I was visiting with my mother, Guinevere called (I am so glad for cellphones lately), and we chatted just a couple minutes. She talked with my mother a little – they’d charmed each other gently and sweetly at Guinevere’s visit up her last Sunday – and remarked in amazement at how more clearly my mother was speaking even than just last week; she was really touched. 

That simple, two-minute call lifted my spirits tremendously, simply through its very mundane nature (other than my mother’s particularly delightful share of it, of course), and that it was a not-in-so-many-words reassurance that all was/is well. 

Sometimes it’s the little things. 

I’ve felt greatly relieved, and so much better and at peace, since then. Inside, I’m also very carefully and delicately seeing what ways I can very gently detach some of my more vulnerable feelings, ones that can stand in the way of simply enjoying the relationship as it is, absent and ignoring the attraction. Small steps, little things… and hands folded. 

Thanks again, Ada, and have a great remainder of the weekend, and upcoming week! 

Gene 

To my astonishment, gadfly “Eric“ had for some unfathomable reason actually read the posting; he’s as kindly, loving, empathetic, and sympathetic as always; I’m doing him the kindness of not including the Who-Is and email address my blogserver provided on him: 

—–Original Message—–
From: eric [mailto:EricIdol@YouWho.com]
Sent: Monday, February 16, 2009 1:43 AM
To: AGeneChilde@YouWho.com
Subject: [MT2mb] Comment: “It’s a Heart Ache”  

New comment on your post #854 “It’s a Heart Ache” 

You seem really lonely and desperate for some romantic love. Have you considered dating (like actively searching for female companionship)? This chick seems really complicated and if you’re so terrified of scaring her off then honestly you should just keep her as a friend and find someone *else* to fall in love with. You obviously badly want and need a woman in your life and the whole priestly celibacy thing seems like a cop-out. Like, if you can’t find a woman then you’re just going to become a priest and then it will be like you didn’t fall in love on purpose. Yeah right. If this “Guinevere” was as crazy about you as you were of her then the whole “white collar” thing would be history. So maybe be a little more honest with yourself about what you want…what you NEED and what you can do to GET it. Crying, blobbing, sending emails, and praying is definitely NOT going to move you closer to satisfaction. 

Quite the gentleman; thanks for your two cents’, sir. Best response might have been to delete his note, or block him out of my blog. So I emailed back, instead… not bothering to point out that some of us men – even those living or contemplating the celibate life – do prefer the company of women who are “really complicated”, and so prefer to engage these women with the emotional and intellectual parts of our being even more than the mere, uh, nether hookups. Or to quote Murray Head, “I get my kicks above the waistline, Sunshine!”. 

—–Original Message—–
From: AGeneChilde@YouWho.com
Sent: Monday, February 16, 2009 10:32 AM
To: EricIdol@YouWho.com
Subject: RE: Comment: “It’s a Heart Ache”  

Eric, there have got to be far better and more worthwhile sites and blogs out there for you to be reading in the wee hours of the morning than my own at-times-troubled musings and ponderings. And just about anything else out there is much more interesting. 

The essence of the priesthood is to serve God and His people – both in the Church, and beyond – through bringing and opening up His word to them in the scripture, the Church’s teachings, its sacraments, and ministries. The world is hungry and badly, badly in need of God’s cleansing love and compassion; each priest serving Him stands as one more clear conduit of this love and compassion. 

The key, pivotal word there is “serve”: the priest is serving people in need – all people – and the God who has put us here and is our ultimate destination. This kind of service must be one of selflessness: “Not my will, but yours”, “Ad majorem Dei gloriam (To the greater glory of God)”, and so on. 

By blunt contrast, the pursuit of interpersonal, intimate love is by definition anything but selfless: it is seeking the pursuer’s worldly desires first, and not the needs of another person. Other than the massively ego-driven, who dates specifically to bring God’s love into the world? Those folks “on the market” are looking for one (or more) other person to “complete” their lives – and are in it for themselves first. 

This is antithetical to selfless service. 

In trying to be selfless, the aim isn’t to be a saint, or to be holy, or to clutch for a halo to wear proudly in public. The objective, rather, is simple humility. 

The concept, in fact, is so simple and basic that most people can’t grasp it. 

Here’s another one: that we have hearts and minds, feelings and dreams, clearly shows that we were not created for this world, and – as the cliché goes – are briefly passing through, entering empty-handed and leaving the same way. We are told, and not just by Christian teachings, that here we are to prepare ourselves for what comes next, and to not get lost in the distractions and demands of this life. 

Most of us still get lost. Why? Through stubbornly casting and following our paths to serve our own wants and needs, putting others no higher than second place. By seeking what we see as our own greater good first. 

So my struggle over Guinevere is to, first, ensure that the focus of my feelings and appreciation for her remain heavily on the non- self-serving side of the slate, that I be a trusted friend, sounding-board, advisor, confidant, listener, sharer-of-time. It’s not about me. (Try saying those four words yourself, Eric, about anything/anyone of importance in your life: “It’s Not About Me”. Say them again. And again. Can you? Do they sound stupid to you? Why do you think that is?) 

It’s not about me. It must not be about me. Or I am not a friend. 

Second, part of the struggle is, yes, to rein and direct my own, very human and understandable feelings of attraction over to more selfless ones of what I can do to make her own struggles more bearable, to lighten the things that worry her and keep her up at night, and to be of a good, positive, supportive role in her life. 

That itself may be, or become, the environment within which a healthy, one-on-one love could indeed grow and be nurtured, if we both so desire it. Can it be done selflessly? I think so. But it takes two, and it’s not about me. It can’t be. 

So: Conflict One for this Aging Child is to be a friend first and foremost, and not be focused on myself when I’m with her (whether in person, on the phone, online, and so on), or when just dwelling on my thought of her. This is not easy, not for anyone with genuine emotional depth, even with a clear inner commitment to respect her first… or how else am I to maturely respect myself? 

Conflict Two follows on that: if Guinne and I both decide to open ourselves to something far deeper than the friendship we each need, then I cannot be the priest/monk I’ve wanted to be for some years now. 

I want to skip that celibacy non-issue for now; you and I will have at it some other time – I’ve been meaning to for a good many months now; concerns of my mother’s health and my own intense job-search are of greater immediate need of my attention, as are other family issues, and pondering/taking further cautious steps (together with Guinevere, and alone) with this friendship I’ve been discussing. 

For now, in a nutshell: A married/dating priest by definition cannot be a selfless servant. His life-partner will be shortchanged, or his God and destiny will be. 

My challenge for you, Eric, is to do something today for someone else. Want to toughen the challenge, if that sounds easy? Do something particularly kind for someone who has been mean, rude, even hateful, to you. Further challenge: give something you value (money, property, time) to a complete stranger… especially someone in no position to give back. 

Take a peek at selflessness. And then look more closely. Can you step up to it? 

Regards,

A. Gene Childe 

Maybe I should also have inquired politely how many years now he’s been happily married. But that would have been petty. 

Further, on the “then I cannot be the priest/monk I’ve wanted to be for some years now”: I was many years reaching the point where I’ve been more and more prepared to turn my life over to the Church, and serving it. This is a facet I would not release easily, though I find, most interestingly, that some part of me remains open to doing so, if I can still serve the Church and my God through a non-avowed/-professed life; this is referred to as “lay ministry”, and does include the deaconate (which is a professed-religious life); deacons may be married. 

Oh, and Mr. Idol: don’t give me a hard time over the word “lay” in “lay ministry”. Grow up, sir.

It’s entirely coincidental – really – that I post here on Valentine’s Day a pair of emails dealing with a deep struggle of my heart, one that’s had me terribly engaged and distracted, battling even tears and genuine, hard depression. 

The intimate, one-on-one love between man and woman is a beautiful treasure that comes too rarely into one’s hands and life, and seemingly too easily dribbles out before we can clutch it to the heart and appreciate it for all its worth. I’ve been there, I’ve done that… and gave up on it with true regret over five years ago. (Meaning, of course, that I’ve stopped dating and am celibate, not that this is anyone’s business but my own.) 

Something also of great value, even more underrated and overly ignored, is simple friendship, especially of the deep, buddy-sort: a freeness to speak honestly, with little or no sugar-coating; a non- self-consciousness over dorky laughter, even the occasional accidental release of inner digestive gases; mentally, emotionally, and even physically leaning on each other as may be needed or just happen to happen; and just simply finding good, relaxed (yet rewarding) company in the other. 

It can be real eggshell-walking when this kind of special, too-rare friendship spans the gender-divide. Yet the comfort to the heart can also be especially deep.

Online-friend Augusta emailed me yesterday; I haven’t been in touch with her, and she wanted to catch up: 

—–Original Message—–
From: Augusta Lovelace [mailto: AgustaLovelace@CondeNast.net]
Sent: Friday, February 13, 2009 7:33 PM
To: ‘Aging Child’
Subject: Hi A. Gene

Hi Gene, 

How are you?  How is your mother.   

We are all fine now but everyone has been battling the stomach virus or flu-like symptoms that have been going around.  Hopefully at this point, everyone seems to be feeling all right.   For awhile there I was starting to feel like Florence Nightingale.  I was glad to see everyone finally feeling better.  No sooner did everyone get over their illnesses and my sister and brother came up to visit.  My brother had to come back up again to take care of some business so they came up yesterday and left today – whew!  I’m tired.  So now that it is calm and quiet I am spending a little time getting caught up on e-mails. 

Hope all is well with you and yours, 

Augusta  

In my response, I found myself unloading as well about this very personal issue, which I’ve thus far kept nearly fully private; I bcc’d friend Spartacus because he’d e-peeked in on me a few days ago, concerned about my near-silence of late, and he deserved to know the latest: 

—–Original Message—–
From: Aging Child [mailto:AGeneChilde@YouWho.com]
Sent: Saturday, February 14, 2009 10:36 AM
To: ‘Augusta‘
Bcc: “Spark” le Klaus [mailto:SpartaCuss@Yabbadoo.com]
Subject: RE: Hi, Augusta!  

Good morning, Augusta: 

All’s well, overall. Mother may be released from rehab within another week, most likely for a time staying at my sister’s home (not as many stairs to contend with, day to day) before coming back home here. This is great news – the rehab folks let me know yesterday, and not everyone in the family even knows yet; I still need to get the news out. 

My older brother, Sarge, went off to Iraq with the Marines at the end of last month, one-year duty. His new wife speaks very little English (Korean only), and so my sister and my other brother and I take turns dropping by their home once a week to help out with errands, bills, maintenance, and so on. I do worry about Sarge; he assures us that he’s in a safe, cushy desk-job far from any of the dangerous areas, but of course we’ll keep worrying – and praying – until he’s back home again next year. 

Besides for my brother, and for my mother, I’ve been doing heavier praying for my own job-hunt, and am seeing God’s grace and compassion yielding a good several interviews lately, including one yesterday. For the last few weeks I’ve been working evenings and weekends (the shifts I’ve desired least) with a relatively easy job doing research surveys over the phone. The pay is low, but it’s still money coming in to pay for groceries and the car… although just barely, if even that. I’m grateful for it (probably not enough, I admit guiltily), and also look forward to not being as dependent on it – i.e., these interviews yielding a full-time, daytime job at a much higher wage. But nonsensibly dread almost every shift. 

Further personal stress comes from a new, very heart-warming relationship I hadn’t expected and am now inwardly finding this heart of mine in some ways seriously chewed up over. Guinevere and I had been gentle friends back in the early nineties, at a very different and extremely difficult time in our lives (and briefly a bit more than friends), before falling out of touch when I transferred out of state in 1993. I’d always worried how life had turned out for her, and with some persistence found her online in 2005 and briefly emailed with her, before losing touch again. 

Late last year we reconnected again via email, and met up again to say hi, the first we’d seen each other in nearly seventeen years. There was an immediate warmth and delight there as we sat in Pizza Hut talking; I gave her a book of hers she’d loaned me way back when (and I’d been holding to return to her someday), some music, and a magazine I’d tracked down and bought for her in Germany in 1993 and never gotten to give her (again, always hanging onto for her). 

It seems we’ve found a nice friendship – more new than renewed, I personally believe; we’re both rather different people now, though the younger two-of-us still occasionally peeps out of our eyes, I think. I’ve visited her at her home in [a large nearby city] three times now (including yesterday evening), and she was up here last Sunday for a stroll through some of the nicer parts my own town, and to meet my mother (and bumping into my younger brother). And, yes, all has been G-rated. 

The stress I mentioned, though, comes to me from finding that one wide facet of my thoughts and feelings for Guinevere are much deeper than friendship-only, even while I know there is also a genuine friendship and respect for her in my heart too. She herself, owing to a particularly rough life and ongoing challenges (unemployment, and some other issues she’s only been able to mention indirectly), is likely capable only of friendship-level feelings and responses. 

It’s not that we’re looking at a huge imbalance between us; it’s more like an extreme struggle strictly in me at times, wanting to preserve that friendship against anything that might make it more vulnerable (e.g., going deeper – or just trying to), rather than strengthen it further. My struggle is to keep a lid on these deeper and more intense feelings in me, since I deeply value Guinevere’s blunt honesty and candor, and so badly need that in a friend, and am genuinely frightened of losing her/our friendship through motivations that would be merely superficial, self-serving, and stupid. If I try to direct us into taking that path, it would put an absolute lie to all the focus and motivations I’ve permitted thus far, and – again – would cost me a relationship utterly unique in my life today, let alone for most of the past twenty years. 

I didn’t plan on this attraction, never engineered or deliberately fed it (I think)… and have not found myself so attracted, either, for nearly those same twenty years. I keep it reined in, yes, with some difficulty… but there seems little more I can do about it – certainly can’t kill it, and it’s not likely to starve or fall into a coma anytime soon. This is very far out of my recent experience, and I am very, very close to being in deeply over my head… at least in over my heart.

And the struggle has an added, heavier dimension: indulging my deeper feelings for this good, sweet, fun, and patient (and spiritual) woman is totally at odds against my prime motivator for many years now: to turn over the rest of my life to serving my faith and my Church, either as priest or professed/avowed religious (i.e., monk/friar). That’s the selfish-versus-selfless struggle: be a little something for many people, versus just try instead (with a lousy track record, and rusty skills at best) to be something for one person… and with no guarantee at all, and the frightful risk of ruining something new, treasured, and unexpected. 

The only resolution, of course, for all of this, is for me to keep that deeper interest banked, and simply enjoy her company when we’re together. (And my heart wrings its metaphorical hands over how long before the next time I see her.) There’s nothing wrong in valuing a friendship, nor even in there being much deeper feelings and desires for this person, so long as they don’t control, don’t overburden, don’t distract, don’t detour me – nor us. 

There’s the crux of it for me. I’ve lost hours of sleep over these feelings on more than one night (including last night), and at times find myself deeply depressed and helplessly/hopelessly vulnerable. Much of this I must keep to myself (Guinevere and I did discuss a bit last night, and last Sunday), since I know it would put an unfair burden on her, and on our friendship… given especially that her level at comfort – and her understandable concern over how much even of my friendship-feelings may derive from simple loneliness, and a desire to seize hold again of something from my/our younger days (not true, by the way) – is much more fixed and content at the friendship-side of it all than my innermost heart is. And, in cold, hard, fact, this friendship is new, and so still has much of that just-hatched, new-colt fragility throughout. 

The inner stress and struggle have sapped me a good deal, and lately have been affecting my other outer expressions of inner self, such as my writing (both blog and novel), and my focus on my future: mapping out classes to take once the income is coming back in, detaching myself further from this world; also even on some stuff around the home (painting, winter garden-maintenance, etc.). 

Even gathering info on your ancestor’s German stamps has been almost impossible to put some needful focus on, so I can get them identified and back to you for his album. I do apologize for that (they’re still here on my desk; I will get on them as soon as I can give them the attention due)… and for how needlessly long this email’s gotten, too. 

So let me close for now by asking that you keep my mother and brother in your prayers, and me – and Guinevere, too. We each need it, and all. 

Always,

Gene 

And to a gentle followup question from Spartacus, I answered at even greater length: 

—–Original Message—–
From: Aging Child [mailto: AGeneChilde@YouWho.com]
Sent: Saturday, February 14, 2009 2:34 PM
To: “Spark” le Klaus [mailto:SpartaCuss@Yabbadoo.com]
Subject: RE: Girl, and Buoy  

This wrenching struggle I’ve kept almost entirely to myself (since it’s strictly confined to my own heart and will), sharing just a Readers’-Digest version with my mother – who was warmly charmed by Guinevere, and vice-versa, this past Sunday – and sharing also just some of the more difficult parts with Miss Guinne herself. 

This extreme sensitivity’s had me nearly at tears, now and then, these past several weeks… including while visiting with my mother this morning, and skimming off some of the choppy froth of these tossing waves to share with her.

She’d asked how yesterday evening had been (I’d brought “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?” along to Guinevere’s for us to watch and munch popcorn over – and though I’d left at close to midnight, we – I – had as always stayed completely G-rated). And Mother even asked “Did you break up?” I forced a chuckle and told her there’s no dating to break up from, and that I’d probably be back down there (or Guinevere up here) again next weekend. (Maybe; last night Guinevere also said that next weekend’s “up in the air”. Far from comforting… but I’m not about to push.) 

Just because she’s recovering from a debilitating series of strokes doesn’t mean my mother’s blind. She saw how a couple times my lips pressed shut tight and I looked away as my eyes began to fill a little, and heard my voice needfully pause and catch itself. She sent me home right before lunch, and told me, “No more tears.” I hugged her there in her wheelchair, and kissed her fluffy hair. 

Spartacus, the tears and depression aren’t over anything Guinevere’s said or done. She’s been warm, welcoming, and friendly; honest and utterly BS-free where only sincerely open friends can be; she has a big sweet heart that will inevitably have her smooching the nearest fuzzy four-legged critter, whether her own or one passing by on the sidewalk, or even peering out a neighbor’s window. 

The ache feeding the tears (kept at bay, although that’s just barely upstream from here) is from the seemingly irresolvable three-way, entirely-inner struggle between a) cherishing this friendship I seriously need, plus holding fast to an unshakable commitment of my heart to take care of this unexpected gem of a rare kind of friendship and not wreck it; b) a staggeringly powerful yearning to cast down my inner walls and let myself simply fall in love with her… but quite obviously this would require the same of her (and she’s had too many emotional roughing-ups since childhood; and has in not-so-many-words gently explained that she’s in no emotional shape for anything of a beyond-friendship nature) – this yearning really wants to pilot me to where she and I would be/become everything to the other; and c) an unwavering (well, okay… near-unwavering) commitment of soul and spirit to continue detaching myself from the world – and relationships – and take on the tonsure or white collar, thus giving my heart and life away to all, not to merely one. 

“b” and “c” are of course absolutely mutually exclusive, and even “a” and “b” not at all necessarily hand-in-hand allies, since “a” requires a strong degree of selflessness, and “b” by its nature is a kind of selfish thing. Only “a” and “c” can work together with certainty, and these mark and define the path my intellect and soul want me to keep to. 

Brother; I’m so incredibly over my head and out of experience in this stuff! Azey (2003) never had firm hold of my heart, so we just fizzled out, though she was there when I needed help through my grief over my father; the girlfriend before her (oddly also a Guinne – well, Gwen – and same city, too, 1999) never got off the ground; before her, Lannie just outside the Poconos (1996) lived too impossibly far away, and also never had my heart; and before that, Pauli – Portia’s mom – did indeed have all my heart at the end (1992), but it was too, too late… and that one will never stop hurting. And it was then – 1992-3 – that today’s Guinevere first passed through my life (including, admittedly some brief intimacy) when I was hurting badly enough to rationalize a little selfish reaching-out. I had no heart left to give her then, nor did I receive hers. 

Now this same heart of mine is almost throwing itself against the bars of my chest to get out to her, even though there’s no clear, discernable perch inside Guinevere for it to land on. Said heart responds poorly to reason, chafes at restraint. 

Again, this struggle is entirely internal – I’m not fighting her for her own heart, nor even (I sincerely hope) trying to make a case for the dating/love scenario. In fact I really have told her, when outlining (considerately keeping the toughest details to myself) to her a bit of what’s going on inside here, that I don’t want my being open/candid about this to be a thing of even the least pressure on her, that I’m only showing her what’s inside so she can know a bit more about me as I am today. 

One of the keep-me-awake-in-the-night thoughts/fears is that, deep inside herself, Guinevere may never get past a hunch (incorrect… but how do I prove it?) that the foundation of what I feel for her now – friend and crush (a feeling I guardedly admitted to) – is founded on a passing-though-needed friendship that back then had a patina of FWB I am rather ashamed to recall, other than lovely ivory skin, and a beautiful body the years since appear not to have badly marred. 

It may help me (but would it hurt the friendship?) to sit beside her and let the tears flow. I’ve cried in her presence already, although this was at emotion-saturated scenes in “Mr. Holland’s Opus” and “What Dreams May Come”. I don’t know. 

(Playing incessantly in the background – I really don’t need this! – is Robert Palmer’s 1991 cover of Marvin Gaye’s “Mercy, Mercy Me” – just the second half, where medleys into “I Want You (to Want Me)”.) 

Thanks, anyway, for the thoughts and wishes. I have to work on this myself, and thus deeply appreciate (and can definitely use) the bolstering. 

Gene

Update, 5:36 PM: I dashed over to Mother’s rehab facility after posting this blog, and sat with her a while — even mentioning what I’d put up here in this posting. Just before I left again, she looked at me and said, “It’s good for life.”

Topics had changed a couple times; I didn’t know what she was referring to now. “What’s good for life?” I asked.

She answered: “Friendship.”

And I nearly started crying.

I watched President Obama’s (and Vice-President Biden’s) swearing-in and inauguration today with my mother, from the dining hall of her rehabilitation-center, where her recovery from last summer’s strokes continues. I don’t know when I’ve ever before had tears in my eyes at a world-historic event — at personal-historic, sure (weddings, funerals, and so on)… but not something like this. Man! There is a heady, giddy, numbing, eye-blinking thrill and anticipation about this, a goosebumps of witness to the stupendous transition this step into a new administration and era it is. 

But I’ll leave the commentary to the professionals; it’s been all over all your media, folks, and will be for a long, long time. Let me, instead, hang onto the lighter-hearted giddiness of it all, and turn to one of these professionals. Gene Weingarten’s weekly column in the Washington (DC) Post magazine has the great header of “Below the Beltway“; this past Sunday’s commentary carried the title of “The Wrong Address: An inaugural for the speech-impaired“. Let me stick my neck out and quote it in full, adding of course © 2009 The Washington Post Company. I’d link to it here… but the Post will want you to sign up for free membership to view the content; the link above is to Weingarten’s appearance in the St. Petersburg (FL) Times instead:  

WASHINGTON — Some people were unnerved to learn that Barack Obama has chosen a 27-year-old speechwriter for his inaugural address. I’m not. Obama could have made a much worse choice. He could have chosen me. 

My fellow Americans: 

Four score and seven years ago, Wilhelm Furtwängler became conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. I realize that’s a boring fact, but I wanted to start this speech with the “four score and seven” thing, and it turns out that 1922 was a really uneventful year. Sorry. 

Some of you may be wondering why I stand here today in a floral dashiki, the traditional ceremonial garb of the tribesmen of Western Africa. Well, you can relax. I am just messing with your heads. 

A better question might be why I have just taken the oath of office with my hand not on a Bible but on what appears to be, and in fact is, a banana cream pie. 

The answer: Change. I promised it, and I am going to deliver it — change in all facets of American life, including the humorless solemnity of our governmental and financial leaders. These are the same leaders who, while wearing somber suits and grave countenances and comporting themselves with utmost dignity, have, for the past many years, held all our heads in the toilet and flushed. 

So, change is good. Besides [sticking finger in pie, tasting it], I like banana cream pie. 

Today our nation is mired in a dreadful financial crisis. What I want to tell you is that we’re in this together. I want to tell you that but cannot do so in good conscience, because, let’s face it, I’ve just landed a four-year, $400,000 job with an awesome retirement plan. Plus, I’ve got two runaway bestsellers that earn more royalties in one month than the equity in your mortgage. In short, we’re not exactly on equal footing: I’m on a putting green, and you are on a carpet of marbles, ball bearings and lard. Good luck with all that. 

Rest assured, however, that I do empathize with your plight, despite what you may have been led to believe. During the presidential election campaign, some people got the unfortunate impression that I am an icy, aloof, emotionless intellectual who has difficulty connecting with the concerns of everyday people. Nothing could be further from the truth. As Ovid observed two millennia ago, “Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim,” words that still have great meaning to those of us with proper educations. 

During a similar financial crisis in 1933, Franklin Delano Roosevelt famously told Americans that we all had nothing to fear but fear itself. These were wonderful, inspiring words that no one thought too hard about, which was a good thing, because when you get right down to it, they were idiotic. Roosevelt was addressing people facing imminent personal financial ruin, yet his consoling mantra was basically the same as Alfred E. Neuman’s: What, me worry? 

I will not condescend to you that way. Me worry, and you should, too. Mostly, we all need to worry about the insanely unreasonable hopes that you have invested in me. You seem to expect me to reinvigorate the economy; repair America’s reputation at home and abroad; institute universal health care; lower taxes; save the polar bears; heal the sick; reanimate the dead; end the madness of robo-calls; restore the taste of the American tomato; eradicate the use of hand dryers in all public washrooms; find a cosmetic solution to the tragedy of teeth that look like Fig Newtons; impose enormous fines on the owners of trembly little dogs; outlaw the wearing of Crocs; publicly denounce Ben Stein for the objectionable, talentless, desiccated old fart he is; incarcerate persons who use the world as their ashtray; and introduce a constitutional amendment prohibiting, forever, the marketing of Windows Vista to the unsuspecting. 

I cannot promise you any of that. But I can promise you this: 

[presses the pie into the face of the Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court ] 

We’re going to have us some fun.

With our embarrassment of a president finally finishing out his last day in office, let’s take a quick look at his legacy, courtesy of friend Spartacus. (And I mean “quick”, too – I have an interview with big international firm in a little over an hour, plus some part-time work this evening and much of the rest of the week. Whee!) 

PS to George: Not only yes-we-can, but yes-we-did. Ave atque vale; populi jamdudum defutus est. 

—–Original Message—–

The George W. Bush Presidential Library is now in the planning stages.
 
The Library will include:
 
The Hurricane Katrina Room, which is still under construction.

The Alberto Gonzales Room, where you won’t be able to remember anything.

The Texas Air National Guard Room, where you don’t even have to show up.

The Walter Reed Hospital Room, where they don’t let you in.

The Guantanamo Bay Room, where they don’t let you out.
 
The Weapons of Mass Destruction Room, which no one has been able to find.

The National Debt Room which is huge and has no ceiling.

The “Tax Cut” Room with entry only to the wealthy.

The “Economy Room” which is in the toilet.

The Iraq War Room. After you complete your first tour, they make you to go back for a second, third, fourth, and sometimes fifth tour.

The Dick Cheney Room, in the famous undisclosed location, complete with shotgun gallery.

The Environmental Conservation Room, still empty.

The Supreme Court Gift Shop, where you can buy an election.

The Airport Men’s Room, where you can meet some of your favorite Republican Senators.

The “Decider” Room complete with dart board, magic 8-ball, ouija board, dice, coins, and straws.

The museum will also have an electron microscope to help you locate the President’s accomplishments.

(Yes, yes; I’ve been away from this blog. All’s well! My focus and concentration have been caught up very much in the ongoing job-hunt amid this terribly intimidating economic morass… and time spent visiting with my mother in her rehabilitative-care center as she continues her wonderful recovery from last Summer’s strokes. I’ll drop updates in here when I can, folks – my creative (even spiritual) energies have had to endure a good amount of drain and demand… whew! Watch this space!) 

Today the Church celebrates Jesus’ baptism, a feast-day which also concludes the long, deep, and lovely Christmas season, and transitions us gently into following the events of His life, through to Easter (and picking up again after Pentecost). 

Yet Christmas doesn’t end today, of course; nor did it end with Epiphany on January 6. At the expense of unloading a cliché: Christmas is an event we can, and really must, carry with us through the entirety of the year. Think: the expectation of Jesus’ imminent arrival among us (and think about this: as a totally helpless infant – you want humility, there’s your prime example); the awe and stunning significance of this; and His simple, gentle (yet utterly profound) life and words – these don’t belong to December/January alone; His life and our rescue/redemption are too great to confine to a brief season, a few weeks, or (worst) a single day or two. 

And more, the positive cultural context here in the West: families drawing together and celebrating in heart and spirit; reflection on the year ending and the new one beginning; gifts of graciousness; and much, much more, of course. 

These, too, belong with us through the entire year – we must never lose the sense, the awareness, even just the warmth of memory, of these things that enrich our lives and souls and homes as one year moves into the next, and the days lengthen beautifully once more. 

Still, taking down the tree and decorations this afternoon and evening has of course been a bit saddening, melancholic. Yet – I remind myself as well as you – these are the outer trappings only; the joy and peace and spirit are never confined to boxes and stowed away on basement shelves. 

Ah…

I just wish I could translate the pun ― dropping the “i” out of “Weihnachten” to give you “Weh-nachten”. Oh, never mind! 

—–Original Message—–
From: Beate Kanntin [mailto:BKanntin@EPost.de]
Sent: Friday, December 19, 2008 4:08 PM
To: Aging Child
Subject: Re: Wenn Es Nicht Zu Spät Wär…  

Hallo Gene, nun bin ich wieder voll im Netz, durch meinen Wohnortwechsel hatte ich einige Probleme eine neue DSL Leitung zu bekommen, hier ist ein totales Dorf, aber nun klappt es wieder. Ich wuensche Dir ein schoenes Weihnachtsfest mit deiner Familie. In den naechsten Tagen kommt wieder mehr aus Deutschland. Einen lieben Gruss BeKanntin 

—–Original Message—–
From: A. Gene Childe [mailto:AGeneChilde@YouWho.com]
Sent: Monday, December 22, 2008 12:08 AM
To: ‘BKanntin@EPost.de‘
Subject: RE: Weihnachten, Weh-nachten, und Weinen-nachten  

Liebe Beate:  

Vielen Dank für den Gruß! Ich bitte um Vergebung, daß ich so ruhig geblieben habe. Die (dauernde/feste) Anstellung suche ich immer noch, und drauf liegt mein ganze Hauptaugenmerk. Während dieser Rezession ist so eine Suche natürlich besonders schwer; daher auch überaus frustrierend, niederdrückend. Das Geld läuft gleich voll aus, und darüber bin ich sehr besorgt.  

Diese Woche arbeite ich (nur als Zeitarbeiter) zwei Tage, nächste Woche vier Tage bzw. Jede Woche sende ich viele Lebensläufe ab, und nehme Teil an Vorstellungsgespräche (z.B. zweimal letzte Woche)… bisher total ergebnislos. Die Suche gebe ich aber gar nicht auf – kann sie eigentlich gar nicht aufgeben.  

Aber bei dieser heiligen Jahreszeit ist es zu schwer (und paradoxerweise zu leicht) bedrückt zu bleiben, wegen des Festschmucks, des Adventgeschichtes, des Weihnachtsbaums, der Weihnachtskarten, usw. usw. Besonders zur diesen Zeit glaubt man an die Wunder, an das Wundertätiges, und an das größte Geschenk.  

Und a propos Geschenken: gratuliere zum neuen Haus, Frau Dorfbewohnerin! Hast Du schon Fotos davon? Na, habt Ihr schon SCHNEE? Hier ist es kalt und sehr windig, aber dieses Jahr haben wir wiedermal kein weiße Weihnachten… obwohl hatten wir vor ein paar wochen Puderzuckerschnee. Dafür drücke ich die Daumen.  

Und Mutti ist ja immer etwas besser – sie hat ihre einige Weihnachkarten geschrieben! Und die Krakelei mußte ich manchmals für mehrere Empfänger übersetzen! Damit hatten wir Spaß.  

Na, bis gleich, Elfin! 

A. Gene

While catching up on my Catholic-media reading this weekend, looking for Father Dietzen’s writeup on G. K. Chesterton and Santa Claus, I found a Catholic News Service article titled “Confession not obligatory for Catholic Obama voters”, and caught the name of Father Jacob Hujus. 

Back in our childhood – some 35-plus years ago (how can it be so many years??) – Jake had been a close friend of my brother Doc… and, to a good degree, of mine as well. Sometimes I’d join Doc when he’d visit Jake and his large family at home, wander Dad’s campus together (I think Mr. Hujus taught there too, just like Dad), and so on. His parents were friends of our mother… still are, in fact; Mother sent them a Christmas card this year, signing it herself in her own still-shaky (but more and more legible) handwriting. 

I heard from Doc only a few years ago that Jake had long-since gone into the priesthood. So I tracked him down and sent him an email, a year or two back, asking if he could drop Doc a warn, gentle line when my brother – and his wife and daughters – were working their way through his father-in-law’s passing.

I mentioned to Father Jake about my own interest in entering the priesthood or/and professed-religious life (time and money and college-credits permitting) and he responded with some back-then memories, and a bit of suggested reading (e.g., Trochu’s definitive biography of the gentle priest-saint John Vianney… a volume I already have, and had begun reading). 

Now, here he was, in 2008, seriously ruffling feathers over the contention that voting for Barack Obama was tantamount to a mortal sin. As I’ve been pointing out here for some weeks now, concurring with U.S. bishops and priests, this is incorrect. Although… let me also say that I do not profess to be wiser or more moral or more correct than any professed Roman Catholic priest. My old childhood-friend and I simply do not share the same interpretation of Church teaching on this. 

I also lack his education and experience. 

Having said that, I reproduce below the article in full; it comes from the American Catholic website – no author’s name is given. [Disclaimer: ©1996-2008 AmericanCatholic.org; website from the Franciscans and St. Anthony Messenger Press.] 

Bishop: Confession not required for Obama voters

Catholic News Service

STOCKTON, Calif. (CNS) — A Modesto pastor urged his parishioners to receive the sacrament of penance if they voted for President-elect Barack Obama, who supports legalized abortion, but Bishop Stephen E. Blaire of Stockton said the sacrament was not obligatory for Catholics who supported Obama. 

“Requiring all Catholics who voted for a candidate with a pro-abortion record to go to confession is not in accord with the moral guidelines set out in ‘Faithful Citizenship‘,” said the bishop, referring to the U.S. Bishops’ 2007 document on political responsibility. 

Bishop Blaire, in a statement released Dec. 1, said that “determining the moral culpability of an individual Catholic who votes for a candidate with a pro-abortion record is a very complicated matter.” 

He said that if a Catholic voted for a candidate “with a pro-abortion record with the motivation of supporting that abortion stance, then that is a grave moral matter.” 

This may be what friend Father Jake was getting at, and I very much agree with that. I plan to send him an email asking him… asking him what? – to clarify? Probably, as with all priests, he’s extremely busy (and not just due to Advent), and doesn’t need the distraction of a non-pastoral inquiry from the other end of the country. I may just let him know that he has my full support in all things… but this one. How do I do so without seeming sarcastic, or holier-than-thou? Brother! 

Anyway, the article continues: 

The bishop’s statement came in response to a Nov. 21 letter sent to parishioners by Father Jacob Hujus, pastor of St. Joseph Catholic Church in Modesto, that urged parishioners to “go to confession before receiving Communion” if they were among “the 54 percent of Catholics who voted for a pro-abortion candidate” and had a clear understanding of the candidate’s abortion stance. 

According to exit polls, 54 percent of Catholics across the country voted for Obama. 

The priest said he could not say if parishioners should refrain from receiving Communion, because he didn’t know what they were thinking when they voted, but he stressed that “voting for a candidate who promises ‘abortion rights’…is voting for abortion. It is a grave mistake and probably a grave sin.” 

The priest’s letter, available on the parish website gained attention beyond the parish after it was reported in the Modesto Bee daily newspaper Nov. 29 and picked up by other media outlets. 

Since then the parish has added a special link to its website to enable people to e-mail their comments on the letter. 

[note: I couldn't find that "special link"; my own link above comes from a public-media source] 

The priest also clarified the meaning of the letter in a Dec. 1 homily [and in a December 19 letter to his parishioners], stating that he never meant that simply voting for Obama made it necessary to go to confession. Instead, he stressed that parishioners risked a “state of grace” if they voted for Obama while fully aware of his position on abortion. 

Father Hujus said the president-elect has publicly supported the Freedom of Choice Act. The latest version of the legislation, introduced in 2007, would establish federal protection of abortion as a “fundamental right” throughout the nine months of pregnancy, regardless of existing state laws to restrict it. However, it is not clear it will even be reintroduced into the new Congress. 

The California newspaper reported that Father Hujus had a long line of parishioners greeting him after Mass Dec. 1 offering their support. The priest told the paper that he never “condemned Barack Obama.” Instead, he said, “we must condemn a policy that eliminates the rights of a whole class of people.” 

In his letter, the priest said he knew that many people were “confused about the issues. It is a difficult time for us all, and we are facing new social and cultural issues.” But despite such confusion, he said, “one thing is clear and certain: We can never vote for a candidate who promises to promote abortion.” 

A more detailed read of this full article sets my mind at ease; the couple-paragraph excerpt printed in the Baltimore Archdiocesan newspaper did not include Father Jake’s clarification, and seemed to cast him and his viewpoint as practically demanding Obama’s Catholic voters hit the confessional en masse (pardon the unintended pun), and was in hot water with the Bishop. I gather he’s still a one-issue voter… but now his heart and compassion show through as well. 

I must add that I’m very much with Father Jake on this Freedom of Choice Act legislation; I hope to address that here at some later point. 

Stop the presses!

I was about to sign off when I caught one more article, this posted today at the website for Father Jake’s hometown newspaper: 

Modesto pastor admits confession request went ‘beyond’ church

By Sue Nowicki

last updated: December 22, 2008 03:57:51 PM 

The Rev. Jacob Hujus, pastor of St. Joseph’s Catholic Church in Modesto, made national headlines last month when he sent a letter to parishioners saying they might need to go to confession before receiving Communion if they voted for a pro-abortion candidate such as President-elect Barack Obama. 

In the new letter to the 5,600 households in his parish, Hujus does some confessing of his own. 

“I realize that [my previous letter] goes beyond what the Church has actually stated,” he said in the letter, dated Dec. 19. “The Church does not state that voting for a candidate who promotes the practice of abortion is always a mortal sin.” 

He added that in his personal opinion, abortion outweighs other moral issues, such as war, capital punishment, poverty, racism, hunger, etc. But, he added, he submits to the authority of Bishop Stephen Blaire on this issue. 

He concluded his letter with this: 

“During Advent, we meditate on the mystery of the God’s Son forming in Mary’s womb. May Our Lady intercede with her Son, that we may cherish all human life, particularly the smallest and most vulnerable.”  

Hear, hear! 

The letter of clarification was sent after a tidal wave of national publicity drenched the parish and diocese following the earlier letter, dated Nov. 21. CNN had asked Blaire for an interview about his priest’s statements. Four television networks and a handful of radio stations carried the news far beyond Hujus’s intended audience. 

“My brother in Denver called and said, ‘Hey, dude, you’re on the news.’ ” Hujus said on Dec. 1 about the impact of his initial letter. “We are flooded by calls and e-mails from all over the country. Some are cheerful and grateful. Others are enraged at me.” 

The vast majority of Hujus’s parishioners supported the priest’s stand. He said most of his e-mails — before it hit the national news — was running about 12 to 1 in favor of him. 

Hujus said Monday the parish has received about 825 e-mails, phone messages and letters since his initial letter went public. About 40 percent of those — mostly from people out of the area — criticized his views. The rest supported him. 

He doesn’t anticipate another landslide of comments following his second letter. 

“I think it’s over,” he said. 

“I learned that it’s important for spiritual leaders to engage the current moral issues of the moment,” he added. “I feel we’ve had an open and respectful dialogue overall. There were lots of good comments. It was fairly constructive. The nasty letters were minimal. 

“It’s important for the churches to be involved in the democratic process, just like churches were involved in the civil rights issues in the 1960s.” 

[name withheld], a long-time St. Joseph’s parishioner, was one of his parishioners upset by Hujus’s initial letter. “I was steaming,” she said in an early December e-mail. 

She said Monday she was “glad to get the [second] letter. This kind of cleans things up a little bit. I like him, and I feel a little bit bad for him that he had to soften the edges.” 

But, she added, “I think he was dead wrong [in the earlier letter]. I believe in a loving God who understands. … How can we tell people they are in mortal sin?” 

Blaire was traveling Monday, but issued a brief statement through Sister Terry Davis, director of communication for the diocese. 

“He appreciates that Father Hujus made some necessary clarifications,” Davis said. “The bishop would like to highlight the two areas that required clarification: No one can make general statements about the imputability of guilt. Each person in his or her own conscience stands before God. And second, no one can make general statements assuming the intentions that people have when they vote.” 

Jan Tsaki, a spokeswoman with the Obama transition team in Washington, D.C., said Monday, “We’re going to decline to comment” on Hujus’s letters.

While I want very much for my postings here – when I can make them – to reflect for now on Advent and Christmas, I need for a moment to step back to some earlier postings on the idea of Catholics’ single-issue voting: 

http://agingchild.wordpress.com/2008/10/31/single-issue-vs-singular-issues/

http://agingchild.wordpress.com/2008/11/01/single-issue-vs-singular-issues-continued/ 

I’d intended to write this posting not to follow up – you folks can research and read up via avenues I’ve put up here, and through your own searches. But my readings of late in recent Catholic media caught my eye with a very familiar name; see my next posting… and I find I do need to follow up, and close this issue as far as my blog is concerned. 

As a bit of a point/counterpoint is, first, a reader’s letter [name withheld] from The Catholic Review (or CR), the same Baltimore-archdiocesan newspaper referenced in my October 31 posting; this comes from the newspaper’s November 27 issue. [Disclaimer: © 2008 The Cathedral Foundation, Inc., 880 Park Avenue, Baltimore MD 21201 (correspondence to: PO Box 777, Baltimore MD 21203), 888-768-9555, Mail [at] CatholicReview.org) ] 

Don’t be fooled by venomous writers 

I can’t ever recall reading letters (CR, Nov. 20) filled with such venom. President-elect Obama was accused of being a Marxist, and prayers were called for his failure. Where was the  outrage when President George W. Bush invade Iraq without provocation and began a war that has taken over 80,000 lives, many of them innocent women, children, and elderly? 

Over 4,000 of our own American soldiers have lost their lives, and many times that number are forever maimed, both physically and psychologically. Sen. John McCain wanted not only to continue this war but possibly to extend it into Iran and Syria for years on end. 

Where was the outrage when the U.S. began a program of torture? 

My faith has taught me that all life is sacred. The right to life doesn’t stop with birth. 

Every four years, the Republicans trot out the anti-abortion / right-to-life mantra and hoodwink the Catholic bishops into giving them full support. As soon as the election is complete, the matter is forgotten by the politicians, and nothing is done. 

I’m largely in agreement with this writer (who I assume is, like me, both anti-abortion and anti-Bush). In all fairness, though, there must be pointed out a factor weighing deeply with many of the voters who cast their ballots by the candidate’s/candidates’ stance(s) on anti-abortion first: That over the course of this inexcusable, reprehensible shame of a war we’ve been in for nearly six years, with hundreds of thousands of lives lost directly because of it, many times that number, of the very youngest and most vulnerable of all lives were snuffed out through abortion. This abomination must stop – but the effort does not tie our hands and force us at election-time to be, pardon me, bedmates of Bush et al. 

That’s what I’ve said here, and that’s what the above letter-writer is saying as well. I did not close my eyes to that when I voted for Barack and the straight Democratic ticket, and I will not ignore it during his upcoming two terms in office – I hope, in fact, to begin engaging in more active anti-abortion activities, most likely (at least initially) through local-parish efforts, in particular via the Knights of Columbus. 

But I’m going off-track here. I do want to commend The Catholic Review for its fairness and balance in publishing letters on both sides of this (however needless, in my opinion) debate. Prime example: In that newspaper’s December 4 issue, another reader [name also withheld] writes regarding that previous letter: 

Agenda, faith collide 

[Your reader]’s letter (CR, Nov. 27) is the perfect example of a Catholic who is ready, willing, and able to throw the Church under the bus to promote her own political agenda. She states, in part: “The right to life doesn’t stop with birth”. Maybe, but by supporting the people and political policies that promote the slaughter of the innocent, [she] is not reflecting what I assume to be her Catholic faith, and what that faith has taught her in the past and does so until this day. 

I strongly disagree with this letter; a more realistic read of the previous one shows that that writer was speaking from a viewpoint of social concern, and peace activism, rather than mere politics… although her lump-them-all-together complaint about Republicans feeds into the perception of politicization, and should have been deleted before submittal. 

Here’s another letter, published in the December 11 issue; we’ve already contrasted the views of the genuinely estimable George Weigel against the Bishops’ document: 

Weigel column distorted by ideolgical bias 

George Weigel’s recent review of the presidential election (CR, Nov. 20) was most disappointing. Without examining the reasons why 54 percent of Catholics voted for Sen. Obama or these voters’ views on abortion, Mr. Weigel nevertheless describes these voters as “stupid” and “mindless”. Mr. Weigel’s view of the facts is distorted by his ideological biases. 

Preliminarily, Mr. Weigel’s continued insistence that abortion must necessarily trump every other issue in a Catholic’s selection of a candidate ignores the wise counsel of the U.S. bishops in “Faithful Citizenship”: “Decisions about political life are complex and require the exercise of a well-formed conscience aided by prudence.” Although it may be difficult for Mr. Weigel to believe, faithful Catholics in good conscience may come to prudential decisions which actually differ from his. 

In addition, Mr. Weigel’s analysis fails to acknowledge what is plainly obvious to the most disinterested observer – that, as a practical matter, the one-issue approach to the selection of candidates advocated by Mr. Weigel and others has failed miserably.

Clinging to an exhausted and failed political approach, and studiously avoiding any examination of the facts, Mr. Weigel is unable to provide any meaningful election analysis.

Finally, back in the December 4 issue of Baltimore’s archdiocesan newspaper is this letter, which in particular rings a clear chime with me on the matter; here’s a cooler, far more level head… and heart::

Prayer over rhetoric 

I was extremely disappointed to read the angry letters from writers who are upset by the election of Barack Obama. The majority of U.S. Catholics did not vote for Mr. Obama [merely] because he is “pro-abortion”. I believe that I voted for a very moral man. 

It is time for American Catholics to take back our Church from one-issue Catholics. Isn’t it time to ask ourselves if the strategies used by these reactionary Catholics are effective? Do people really respond in a positive way to strident – and, in some case grotesque – literature and pictures? I attended Mass at the Cathedral during Respect Life weekend. The priest spoke of the problems of abortion, euthanasia, and other life issues, but then went on to discuss the lack of respect we have for one another as evidenced by some of the mean, nasty, and judgmental things we say. 

I realize that many pro-life activists are very giving and charitable, and operate with the best intentions. I do believe however, that it is time for Catholics to evaluate the methodology and tactics used by some Catholics to determine if they are truly consistent with Catholic beliefs. More prayer and less rhetoric might be helpful. 

Again, I hadn’t intended, first, a wrap-up at all here. Yet once having started, I found that’s exactly what I was writing. And, second, I hadn’t then intended to draw it out over two postings.

But I’ll take up my initial objective in the next posting; as I started out saying at the top here, I ran into a very familiar name – person – from my childhood, and want to (with some genuine discomfort) put this up here as well: see the next posting.

 

 

 

 

I last turned to longtime Catholic columnist Father John Dietzen a few days before the recent US election; his column’s handling of the matter of “single-issue” voting, something contested among Catholics almost as vehemently as the merits of the major candidates had been for the entire nation, put him in the same corner of the (nonexistent) ring as me, a loyal (yet very anti-conservative) son of the Church, pondering-yet-intractable on the matter. 

Early this month, he submitted a column looking at the figure of Santa Claus, himself bringing in a particularly delightful and refreshing voice of authority, G. K. Chesterton. Chesterton I’ve been getting to know just over the last couple years, owing to a series carried on EWTN, “The Apostle of Common Sense“. (Late last year, regular MT2mb contributor Spartacus quite startled me by quoting Chesterton in one of his email signoff lines. Small world!) 

I reproduce here Father Dietzen’s column in full, as posted on December 7, 2008, at the website of the Catholic Times, “official newspaper of the Diocese of Springfield in Illinois“. (Disclaimer: © 2001 – 2008 Catholic Times) 

Now, Father Dietzen: 

Q. My question isn’t very deep, but with Christmas coming I am concerned about the attitude of some friends who don’t want their children to “believe in Santa Claus.” 

From almost infancy, they tell their children there isn’t really a Santa and that it was all made up to sell more things at Christmastime. I think they’re missing something, but I’m not sure how to tell them. What do you think? (Florida)

A. I too think they are missing something – very big. It’s always risky to analyze fantasies, but maybe it’s worth trying for a moment.

Fantasies, perhaps especially for children, are critical ways of entering a world, a real world that is closed to us in ordinary human language and happenings. They are doors to wonder and awe, a way of touching something otherwise incomprehensible. Santa Claus, I believe, is like that. 

No one has ever expressed this truth more movingly and accurately, in my opinion, than the great British Catholic author G.K. Chesterton in an essay years ago in the London Tablet. On Christmas morning, he remembered, his stockings were filled with things he had not worked for, or made, or even been good for. 

The only explanation people had was that a being called Santa Claus was somehow kindly disposed toward him. “We believed,” he wrote, that a certain benevolent person “did give us those toys for nothing. And … I believe it still. I have merely extended the idea. 

“Then I only wondered who put the toys in the stocking; now I wonder who put the stocking by the bed, and the bed in the room, and the room in the house, and the house on the planet, and the great planet in the void. 

“Once I only thanked Santa Claus for a few dolls and crackers; now I thank him for stars and street faces and wine and the great sea. Once I thought it delightful and astonishing to find a present so big that it only went halfway into the stocking. 

“Now I am delighted and astonished every morning to find a present so big that it takes two stockings to hold it, and then leaves a great deal outside; it is the large and preposterous present of myself, as to the origin of which I can offer no suggestion except that Santa Claus gave it to me in a fit of peculiarly fantastic good will.” 

Are not parents of faith blessed, countless times over, to have for their children (and for themselves) such a fantastic and playful bridge to infinite, unconditionally loving Goodness, the Goodness which dreamed up the Christmas event in the first place?

Call Santa Claus a myth or what you will, but in his name, parents (and for that matter, all of us who give gifts at this special time of the year) are putting each other in deeper touch with the “peculiarly fantastic good will” who is the ultimate Source of it all. Plus, it’s fun! 

I hope your friends reconsider.

I’ve been silent and absent from my blog, these past many weeks, owing simply to concentration on getting myself back into the workforce, and juggling too many bills with too little money. I’ve had several job interviews, including three or four I’m still waiting to hear back about, and will have to politely nudge back on. 

Getting through this on a daily basis has been at times, I admit, all along the gamut from annoying to depressing to downright frightening. This leaves little creative energy to muse online, I’m afraid… and even that little, particular awareness is one more source of (slight) stress. Still, I’m itching to put up a couple essays here – neither one mine… and so, come to think of it, all the more worth the read – between now and Christmas. 

First, as a little bit of what-I’ve-been-up-to, here’s a pair of emails to and from me. The sender, Augusta, is a writer and amateur genealogist I met online through trying to restore an old book to its owners’ descendant(s). At an antique store early this year when I had the money, I bought a stamp-album almost a century old, with several hundred very old stamps in it, to augment my and my family’s collection. The album had a handwritten inscription identifying its original owner by full name (and his gift-giver), including his somewhat unusual last name; indicators were that it had been given around 1907 or 1908, and used for just a couple years before being set aside for still-unknown reasons. 

…with some great stamps in it! These I removed carefully (though in two instances damaging a page), and then proceeded to track down the owner’s family to send it back to them, given its great overall condition, and the name and personal inscription in it. Augusta responded to my inquiry, and I sent her the album; she was later able to nail the original owner down precisely – a brother of her great-grandfather, I believe. We also keep each other updated on some goings-on in our families. 

Yes, yes; this is pretty far afield from Christmas. Bear with me. 

I kept the stamps, of course… but ultimately decided to hang onto only those that were not duplicates of ones I already own. (I’ve still more than recouped the purchase price – several times over – in terms of market-prices on the stamps I kept.) All the rest I sent back to Augusta over the course of the year, a couple countries’ worth at a time, after researching and identifying them for her so she could put them back in her ancestor’s album and so restore it (as much as possible) to its condition when he’d owned it. I held back only the stamps of Germany and the pre-unification (1871, not 1990) German states, since the jewel and hub of my and my family’s collection is what remains of my German grandfather’s own collection, and these needed exhaustive looking-over before returning. 

Starting next year, other duties permitting, I’ll send Augusta one each of all my non-Grandfather pre-WWI duplicates so she can actually augment her ancestor’s album to perhaps what it could have been like had he kept at it, and as a kind of thank-you (or maybe apology) for keeping some of her great-grand-uncle’s things. 

Christmas is a time of giving… and giving is not just a December-thing. Thank you. 

—–Original Message—–
From: Augusta Lovelace [mailto: AgustaLovelace@CondeNast.net]
Sent: Saturday, December 20, 2008 8:17 PM
To: ‘Aging Child’
Subject: Hi A. Gene 

Hi Gene, 

I am finally finished and can take a break for the day!  How are you? How is your Mother? 

I did receive your last batch of stamps.  I have them tucked away for the week after Christmas when everything dies down to a dull roar and I can have time to myself.  A snowy, cold day would be an ideal day to work on them.  I do appreciate you sending all of them to me.  It will be such a nice album when I have finished it. 

I have my projects lined up for after the holidays.  The stamp album, painting, getting back to my novel (practicing with my dragon naturally speaking).  I have tried using it before but it takes a while to speak clearly and slowly so that the computer types what you are saying and not some other words.  It is great for writing once you learn the ins and outs of it. 

Our daughter had a Christmas party at her place last night.  We didn’t stay too late as I was tired after going all day.  She had about 25 people at the party.  It was nice thought to be able to sit, have a drink and have absolutely nothing to do but that. 

I received a Christmas card and a letter from a distant cousin who had sent me all his Lovelace genealogy.  He said that he had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease.  He and his wife are such energetic people and great travelers.  I felt so bad for him as in time he knows that he will not be able to do all that he loved to do in the past.  Sometimes life can seem like a cruel joke. 

Our tree is up and decorated, the house is done, the lights are up outside, the house is cleaned, the gifts are wrapped and tomorrow the cookies will be baked and then I will do absolutely nothing for two days. 

Hope that you have a Merry Christmas and the very best in the New Year! 

Talk to you soon, 

Augusta 

—–Original Message—–
From: Aging Child [mailto:AGeneChilde@YouWho.com]
Sent: Sunday, December 21, 2008 12:47 PM
To: ‘Augusta‘
Subject: RE: Hi, Augusta 

Good afternoon, Augusta, and Merry Christmas! 

My mother’s health continues to get much better – for example, she filled out her own Christmas cards… then I’d add a note from me to the recipient, translating my mother’s scrawl (it’s definitely improving) and updating them on her progress, before sealing, stamping, and sending off. I think she and my sister are actually shopping right now, something wonderful for my mother’s morale (and the morale of the rest of us, too). 

For myself… well, the job hunt goes on unabated – if I even just slowed down at it, or gave up, the panic/desperation at the fringes would creep in, with money and resources just about entirely drained, and only very spotty work at best (filling in two days this coming week, and four the week after). On better days I feel very confident and determined and undeterred; bad days… well, it’s almost as though I’m walking along a cliff’s edge in a hurricane, and earthquake. But I go on… I have to. 

Though perhaps I could easily find reasons to justify it to myself, I can’t buy into (not for very long) a view on life as a cruel joke. After a long busy life, your distant cousin now still has a good stretch of time to pull back in and reflect on the joys his life has been enriched with, and an opportunity to turn now to something even more internal and spiritual, with the love of his life to help carry him through. We have to look on the difficulties and hurdles coming our way as further avenues for God to reach us and vice-versa, opportunities of grace, not of cold blows. (This is something I really need to keep in mind!) 

With the support of his family, your cousin has it within and about him to deal very well, all things considered, with Parkinson’s. The toughest thing isn’t to bear up under the difficulties of that disease (as my mother and our family are bearing up under her strokes), so much as trusting in God, and allowing our lives and future to rest in His hands, in His control, while doing what we still very much can do. Yet I know this may provide little-at-all consolation, and might just come across as trivializing a very sobering diagnosis and prospect. So please pardon the preachiness; I suspect rather uncomfortably that your cousin would no doubt prefer my unemployment to his prognosis. I wish I could do more than add him and his wife to my prayers, but I do just that. 

And speaking of family, with a profound apology for the poor segue: 

I went through my German stamps and [your great-granduncle]’s, and am ready to catalog that last batch of [his] and send them back your way… though I’ll wait for the postal system to wind down a bit, plus final Christmas preparations here – seems I spend all Advent, once I get started, always adding one more thing to the tree, and just one other decoration indoors and out. With Mother away and the economy and prospects extremely troubling, it’s that much more important to embrace and engage in the traditions that are part of what make this time of year so special, magical, and holy. 

And so I wish you, your family, and especially your cousin and his wife and his own family, my warmest wishes and prayers for a good, lovely, Merry Christmas, and a sweet, happy new year. Till then! 

A. Gene Childe