FRANKENSTORM -- GOOD FIND :-)

WOW!  Lookad'dat!  Talk about a Cabbage Night prank!  Phew!

I hope that you will forgive me for being irreverent this evening, but I can't help it.  So between prayers let me sneak in some random wisecracks about this storm.  

We older folks are not too happy about phenomena of this nature.  After all we don't appreciate being robbed of our bragging rights concerning foul weather and the sacrifices we made to get to school despite it all.  We look at "Sandy" and we get downright disappointed because she is bigger than anything we can remember.  When we got slammed by storms, they didn't have names.  They just came and we hoped that the street lights would be lit in the daytime so that we would know that schools would not be in session.  When the power went out, we went to school, slogging through waist - high snow and ankle - deep slush.  At least that is what we tell our children.  We can get away with it because none of these nasty expressions of Mother Nature's bad side ever had a name.  

We heard these stories from our parents, and we tell them to our children.  Now that "Sandy" has dumped her temper on us, our children have gained the upper hand.  Except for one thing.  What with all the computers, TV's, radios, I-phones, etc.  I am sure that not a soul slogged to school through it all.  So, in a way, we oldies still have the upper hand in the tall tales department.

I am now going to tell a true story about bad weather as I sit in my nice comfortable Southern California domicile.

On December 11, 1960 EFR Dion died sudddenly somewhere around 9 or 10 PM.  I got the telephone call from my brother, Reef Lector.  I was a seminarian in Attleboro, Massachusetts, some 75 or 80 miles away.  It was snowing and the accumulation had reached at least 3 inches already.  The headmaster (Director/Superior) of the seminary insisted on driving me home though the storm.  We made it safely and soundly.  He took a cup of coffee and turned around and went back to Attleboro.  By the time he got halfway, the accumulation had reached 6 inches.

My brother was the "morning drive" announcer at a local radio station.  It was a small station, so it went off the air at 9:00 PM and came back on at 5:00 AM.  We decided that I would drive him to work because we were sure that there would be no parking in the city around his place of work.  We arose at 4:00 AM to an accumulation of 8 inches and roads that were still not clean because it was still snowing.  It was about 3 miles to the station.  The last quarter mile all uphill.  I had to drop him off at the bottom of the hill and he walked up to the station.  He went on the air right on time.  

After today, our stories will appear to be benign fairy tales compared to Sandy and the heroics of those who experienced her fury.  So we tip our hats to all the brave souls who not only got through it, but who also got through it while helping others along the way.  We also are grateful that this storm has a name.  We older types need all the mnemonic help we can get.  Remembering names is easier than remembering the exact date of the cold day when we had to walk a mile and a half through waist deep snow to get to school.

Yes, dear readers, we do remember Katrina.  We bet that you do too.

We bet that we will not soon forget her younger sister, Sandy.

Maybe we should cancel Hallow'een in Southern California this year.

AUSTERITY -- MY SUGGESTION

I just returned from Italy.  It was a great time I had.  I discovered that the Italians have the same problems that we have.  The big banks don't want to be controlled, the politicians don't want to give up their life style while they expect every other citizen to do just that.  They have a wonderful system for keeping gasoline prices low.  They seem to be rather successful at keeping them below $9.00 per gallon. They do that by quoting the prices on the signs in front of the pumping stations to the fourth decimal.  Like this: 1.7938 € -- per litre, of course.  You do the math. 
[6.79 €]  That, x $1.25 = $8.49 That is not an exaggeration.  No wonder that they drive cars that get 18 kilometers to the liter.  That's about 11 miles x 3.8 = 41.8 miles to the gallon.  
I don't know about you, but as far as I am concerned, I have to ask myself if it would be better to keep drilling or to spend a penny more on engineering our vehicles to get more miles to the gallon.  But then, that wouldn't be very favorable to the Keystone pipeline, would it?  Oh well, you can't win 'em all.

Let me try another suggestion.  It addresses entitlements.  In fact I dare to take on the biggest entitlement of them all: Taxes to the government.  I suggest that all taxes be cut back to 0.  In case you're mistaking that for an "oh", what it really is, is a zero.  No entitlements for anybody.  None.  The country has to turn itself over to the open market concept of financial gain, 100%.  Let the entrepreneurs do what they will.  If someone wants to build a bridge, pay for it.  If someone wants to build a pipeline, pay for it.  If someone wants to be president, find willing benefactors or pay for it yourself because taxes are forbidden.  You want to help the president, pay for it or find a benefactor.  You get sick, pay for the care or die.  You want to go to school, find someone who will teach you for a price that you can afford.
It's the best way.  There would be a very clear cut division between the haves and the have-nots. Soon, all the have-nots would be dead and the haves would slowly, by turns turn into have-nots until there would be only one standing.  That person would then be a dictator and a taxation law could then be created.  All that would be missing, of course, would be someone able and willing to pay the tax.  Ah, yes, I guess I forgot that part.  
Oh well, no plan is perfect.  Not even mine.

Now that I have confessed to not being perfect, you sure as shooting do not have to feel constrained to cry at my funeral.

OBAMA CHANNELS GW BUSH -- DEJA VUE

2004 

2012

When you are the president, you should be the one crushing your interlocutor.  Remember, it is his intention to crush you.  Obama inherited more from GW Bush than he bargained for.  He also inherited his high and mighty, "I'm the decider," imperious attitude and facial discontent.  Obama showed what he has shown for four years...a basketball player's pantie-waist preference for slick move avoidance tactics rather than a hockey player's desire to snap the opponent's neck off against the boards.  Obama looked like he had just got out of bed.  Maybe he had jet-lag.  Maybe, and this is what I opine, he was just being Obama...and, oh my God, George Bush, all in one, atr one time.
For those of you who think that I am just reacting to a performance that I witnessed last night.  Not so.  This is a reflection on the historical phenomenon of what happens when an incumbent president has to face an ambitious pretender for the position of President of the United States.  I personally was not surprsised by the conduct of the protagonists.
I have written many times about the propensity that Obama has to maintain himself  "above the fray" rather than to "bare - knuckle" it out with the other side.  He is the most recent in a line of president losers on the night of the opening debate.  The only winner is the champion politician of them all, "Slick Willie" Clinton.
It is no surprise to me that presidents fall prey to the temptation to shut down the noise from their right.  They have been in charge of all these things for four years and they have slogged through the crocodile infested swamp of trying to get things done.  When they hear that they have done nothing worth remembering, they have the scars that show what it took to get done what finally did blossom from their efforts.  I saw George HW Bush, George W. Bush and Jimmy Carter shut down under similar circumstances.  So, what happened last night is nothing but deja vue.  It is the biggest attack on the ego of the "Leader of the Free World" in public view and it takes place once every four years. Every four years the "Leader of the Free World" shrivels up and slinks into the dark of the night still not believing that someone, anyone, could dare to treat him that way.
Yes, last night was entertaining for me.  There was no surprise.  The bull's charge on the matador is always most ferocious at the outset.  The history of the outcomes of presidential debates in this country and the outcomes of bullfights around the world, tell us what happens most often.   True,  sometimes the bull wins.  Maybe that's why people go to bullfights.  They want to be there on the rare day when the bull finally wins one.  Over the years I have not characterized Obama as a matador.  (Cfr. the first paragraph, above)
Therefore, we will just have to see if the bull wins this year.
It's too bad that I will miss the next two encounters.  I'll read about them in Italian.

BEST MOMENTS IN SPORTS

Lake Placid, NY - 1980

Something happened to me today that I never thought I would experience.  I had an emotional experience regarding a sports story.

That having been said, I will tell you that I have cut myself off from professional sports, and all sports.  It's not because I don't admire the prowess.  I do.  It is because I gag at the behavior of the athletes and the owners.  I didn't even watch 2 minutes of the Olympic games last month.  Was it last month?  No.  Maybe farther back than that.  Anyway, that's where I am with the sports thing.

This morning a news program on television had Len Berman as a guest.  Len has written a book about the best moments in sports.  He has chosen 25.  I remembered some of them and some of them I did not.  I didn't remember anything about the basketball stuff.  Most of the choices about baseball I remember vividly.  I remember Jackie Robinson (Lary Doby too, remember?), and the 1969 Mets.  I also remember Roger Bannister and I think of him a lot.  Don't ask me why.  Actually, I'll tell you why.  The runners who stand out on the track seem to be so alone.  They seem to be so distant from  one another in a very strangely isolated way.  And maybe they are.  But when Roger Bannister broke the four minute barrier in the mile run in 1954, he did it with two accomplices, familiarly known as "rabbits."  These two conspirees had the task of setting a fast pace for Bannister so that if he followed them, they all three knew that he would break the record.  He would be the first person ever to run a mile in less than 4 minutes.  I remember this very clearly and I even remember the names of the two "rabbits."  It is strange that this event made such an impression on me that I still carry it around.  Oh yeah, the two "rabbits?"  Chris -- yep, both of them were named Chris.  See!  That's why I can remember.  I remember only one surname though, Chataway.  The other one escapes me.  Oh, the time?  3 minutes, 59.4 seconds.

Of course, you have all recognized the picture at the top of the page.  It is of course the USA hockey team of 1980...THE USA HOCKEY team.  They, the college amateurs who beat the formidable, steamroller style, ultra-disciplined Russian Red Army Hockey Machine.  I watched that game and I could not believe my eyes when Mike Eruzione scored the go-ahead goal.  It was already a miracle that the college boys from the USA had already score twice.  I was sitting there waiting for the Reds to score again and that would put the kibosh on the USA.  Besides it was hardly possible that the guy in goal, Tretiak would ever surrender three goals in one game.  He the Cerberius of the hockey world would never, ever allow three pucks to go by him in one single hour.  But that day, because he had let two get by him, he was held out of the game for the third period and was replaced by Myshkin.  No one knows why.  But that was a mistake by the Russian coach, Tikanov.  Maybe he should have stayed with Tretiak.  After all,   he is the same Vladislav Tretiak who one time shut out the Montreal Canadiens, in Montreal.  No matter, that day, the college boys won.  It didn't matter that it was not the gold medal game.  It was more than that.  It was the great "Miracle on Ice."  
Two days later the "Miracle on Ice" was complete.  The USA beat Finland for the gold.  For me, that day when the Russin Army sank into the ice was the best.  It is still the best.  

You know what?  The first and only perfect game ever pitched in a world series didn't make it into the book.  That's too bad because I saw every single pitch that Don Larsen threw in that game.  Those were the days when I watched every pitch of the World Series.  Now, it's been several years that I don't even know when the baseball season starts and when it ends...Of course that may be because there is no such thing as a baseball "season" any more.  Oh well, I'll get over it until I meet Bobby Doerr in heaven.  Bobby has to be in heaven.  He will remember me too because I prayed so hard for him to get into the Hall of Fame.  It took a while, but he made it.  
So there, more memories.

J'EVER BOUNCE A CHECK? HOW HIGH? MISCALCULATE THE "FLOAT?"

Supercheck.  12 protective features to prevent nefarious activities against you and your checking account from the outside.  That's all fine.  Well and good too.  What I need  is a check book that's going to provide an infinite number of protective measures against my screwing up my account all by myself.  Now, listen to my story and you will see just how bad it can really get.
Some of you elder statespeople can perhaps remember the "float."  Some of us had it down to a science.  Write a check on Friday afternoon with the 95% assurance that the process would not affect your account until Tuesday.  Plenty of time to cover it on Monday, and maybe even first thing on Tuesday morning.  Now, be honest, how many times did you do that?
Nowadays, that is totally impossible.  You write a check, the merchant runs it through the bar scanner and BAM!, your money is gone...if you have money.  If not, you're over-drafted and more money will find its way out of your pocket.  Some of us had to be dragged into the ways of the 21st century the hard, and expensive, way.  The school of hard knocks has a very high tuition.
Now hear this true story.  I wrote a check on Friday to pay the rent.  I brought it to the office in the early afternoon.  I remember well that often times the management doesn't go to the bank until Monday.   So I wrote the check, knowing that Monday would be clear.  Now, you have to know that I have  a message connection between the bank and my cell phone, the bank and my computer and of course over the telephone.  So, early Monday my telephone tells me that I have bounced the check.  I run to my computer and my computer tells me that I have bounced the check.  My telephone rings and it tells me that I now have a positive balance.  I run back to my computer and there is no sign of the deposit that should show as happening on Monday.  I am now totally mystified, so I call the bank on the voice line and the sweet thing on the other end of the line tells me that she shows that the deposit that I am seeking as "pending." Pending?  For what?
I run back to my computer and try to find the deposit.  By a fluke, I find it as having been effected on Friday instead of Monday.  Wha??  So now I go back to check the balance, and sure enough it is in positive territory.  I say to myself, "Hmmm, what about the overdraft fee?"  I'm wondering almost out loud if the computer is going to be able to sort out the traffic jam.  Actually, I don't really care about sorting it out, all I'm caring about is that the overdraft gets cancelled, or becomes non-existent.
Well, boys and girls, everything worked out fine.  The electronic traffic jam did not claim me as its victim.  I still  have no idea if it took any human intervention to clear it up, but one thing is for sure, the gamble that I took by writing paper that was only good for kite making, turned out OK.  One thing is for sure, I will not trust my intuition about the management practices of the front office any more.

PERE NORMAN BUTLER

LETTRE A LA FAMILLE SALETTINE

10 septembre 2012

JOURNÉE INTERNATIONALE DE LAICS SALETTINS

Dites à ceux qui sont découragés

"Soyez forts, ne craignez pas! Voici votre Dieu! "

Il s'agit de les sauver.

                      Isaïe

Chers frères et sœurs de la famille, Salettine :

Nous nous apprêtons à célébrer la fête de Notre-Dame de La Salette! Et dans le cadre des célébrations, nous célébrons aujourd'hui la Journée internationale de Laïcs Saletins! Cette initiative a débuté durant la Première Rencontre Internationale de Laïcs Salettins,et a été confirmée par le Chapitre Général des Missionnaires en Avril et maintenant nous faisons un rendez-vous avec la joie. Célébrer l'identité Salettine avec  des activités visant à approfondir notre spiritualité et de faire connaître l'aspect gracieux de la belle Dame. A vous tous, félicitations!

Notre spiritualité est christocentrique. Marie de La Salette veut nous conduire à son Fils Jésus. Elle parle de «mon fils», vêtu d'un grand crucifix sur sa poitrine et elle est entourée par la lumière pascale de son Fils. Marie pleure la séparation entre la foi et la vie, la séparation qui nuit à la personne humaine dans les profondeurs de son être. Elle demande la prière, en particulier l’Eucharistie et la Réconciliation comme des moyens aptes à rétablir le lien entre notre vie quotidienne et la source du bon sens et de la joie: Jésus, le chemin, la vérité et la vie. De Jésus, le seul Sauveur, nous sommes des disciples et des missionnaires, et souligne à nouveau le Document du message

La joie de chaque mère est de voir ses enfants heureux, capable de donner vie à une bonne conduite personnelle, matérielle et spirituelle. C'est donc avec notre mère de La Salette: «S'ils se convertissent, les rochers se transformeront en tas de blé." C’est le blé qui nourrit le corps et le blé qui devient Eucharistie où Jésus est présent comme notre Pain de Vie.

C'est la prière personnelle et célébrations sacramentelles de l'Eucharistie et de la Réconciliation, combinée avec des actions visant à promouvoir la réconciliation qui sont les signes visibles de cette foi Salettine durant ce mois de conversion, de liaison et de vie pour notre bien et par tout le monde.

Je vous embrasse,

P. Norman MS

FATHER NORMAN BUTLER

LETTER TO THE SALETTINIAN FAMILY

SEPTEMBER 10, 2012

INTERNATIONAL DAY LAY SALETTINIANS

Tell those who are discouraged

"Be strong, fear not! Here is your God! "

He comes to save them.

                      Isaiah

Dear Brothers and Sisters of the Salettinian Family:

We are about to celebrate the feast of Our Lady of La Salette! And as part of the celebrations, we celebrate today the International Lay Salettinian Day! This initiative began in the First International meeting of Lay Salettinians last year, was confirmed by the General Chapter of the Missionaries in April and now we make a date with joy. Celebrate Salettinian identity with activities to deepen our spirituality and to make known the gracious appearance of the Beautiful Lady.  To all of you, Congratulations!

Our spirituality is Christocentric. Mary of La Salette wants to take us to her Son Jesus. She speaks of "my son", wearing a large crucifix on her chest and is surrounded by the Easter light of Her Son. Mary cries over the separation between faith and life, a separation that harms the human person in the depths of his being. She asks for prayer, especially the Eucharist and Reconciliation which act as means able to reestablish the link between our daily life and the source of meaning and joy: Jesus, the way, truth and life. This Jesus, the only Savior, we are disciples and missionaries, and stresses again and again in the Document of the Message.

The joy of every mother is to see her children happy, able to bring life to a personal, material and spiritual level of happiness. So it is with our mother of La Salette: "If they are converted, the rocks will turn into heaps of wheat." It is wheat that feeds the body and it is wheat that becomes Eucharist where Jesus is present as our Bread of Life.

That personal prayer and sacramental celebrations of the Eucharist and Reconciliation, combined with actions to promote reconciliation are visible signs this is the month of  Salettinian conversion linking faith and life for our good and that of the world.

Hugs,

Fr. Norman MS

PADRE NORMAN BUTLER

CARTA A LA FAMILIA SALETENSE

10 DE SEPTIEMBRE DE 2012

DÍA INTERNACIONAL DEL LAICO SALETENSE

Digan a los que están desalentados

“¡Sean fuertes, no teman! ¡Ahí está su Dios!”

El mismo viene a salvarlos.

                      Isaías

Queridos Hermanos y Hermanas de la Familia Saletense,

¡Estamos por festejar la fiesta de Nuestra Señora de La Salette! Y como parte de los festejos, ¡celebramos hoy el Día Internacional del Laico Saletense! Esta iniciativa nació en el Primer Encuentro Internacional del año pasado, fue confirmado por el Capítulo General de los Misioneros en abril y ahora marcamos la fecha con alegría. Celebramos la identidad saletense con actividades para profundizar nuestra espiritualidad y hacer conocer la misericordiosa aparición de la Bella Señora. A todos ustedes, ¡Felicitaciones!

Nuestra espiritualidad es cristocentrica. María de La Salette quiere llevarnos a su Hijo Jesús. Habla de “mi Hijo”, lleva un gran crucifijo en su pecho y está rodeada de la luz pascual de su Hijo. María llora la separación entre fe y vida, separación que daña a la persona humana en lo más profundo de su ser. Ella nos pide oración, especialmente la Eucaristía, y actos de reconciliación como medios capaces de reestablecer el vínculo entre nuestra vida cotidiana y la fuente de su sentido y alegría: Jesús, camino, verdad, y vida. De este Jesús, el único salvador, somos discípulos y misioneros, como insiste una y otra vez el Documento de Aparecida.

La alegría de toda Madre es ver a sus hijos felices, con una vida capaz de llevarles a un bienestar personal, material y espiritual. Así es con nuestra madre de La Salette: “Si se convierten, los peñascos se transformarán en montones de trigo”. Es trigo que alimenta el cuerpo; es trigo que se transforma en Eucaristía donde Jesús se hace presente como nuestro Pan de Vida.

Que la oración personal y las celebraciones sacramentales de la Eucaristía y la Reconciliación, combinados con acciones a favor de la reconciliación sean signos visibles en este mes saletense de la conversión que une fe y vida para nuestro bien y el del mundo entero.

Abrazos, P. Norman MS

SO, YOU'RE PRO-LIFE? TRY THIS ONE ON FOR SIZE

Yesterday I saw the pro-life cake get some icing.  In church, during the meditation on  the scriptures that we Catholics call the homily.
Those of you who know me, know that I am anti-abortion, and I don't care what the language police say.  That's what I am and that's what I say.
So, yesterday I was sitting there in church minding my own business.  Yes, I do have moments when I am able to control myself, somewhat, for a little while.  The Scripture readings yesterday were challenging, of course, but they became more so as the priest developed his line of thought.  He injected a reflection about the "pro-life" conviction that so many people say that they have.  He was very frank when he said, "if you are pro-life, then you have to be pro-life all the way.  You aren't pro-life if you are pro-death penalty.  You aren't pro-life if you don't mind sending young people to war to kill and/or be killed." After that is when he stepped off into God's territory.  He told the story of the sixteen year-old boy and his family who were denied access to their first class seats on an American Airlines flight because the boy has Down Syndrome. The priest placed that side by side with the story from scripture that describes a host taking care of the well dressed dude like a prince while he mistreats the poorly dressed indigent.  (James 2; 1 - 4)
This preacher then took pro-life out for a ride over deep, deep waters.  Here, I paraphrase.  If you are pro-life, then you owe it to yourself and to others not only to prevent abortion, but to love, respect and enhance the lives of the humans around you.  This priest deserves some kind of a medal.   How many of us have ever thought about pro-life that way?  How many of you say that you are pro-life and actually believe in the truth contained in  the priest's line of thought?  Even if you are pro-life and you are not Catholic, the words spoken from the altar yesterday, by this one, deep thinking priest are for everyone, even a Catholic anti-abortionist like me.

BIORYTHM, OH NOT THAT AGAIN!

Hey, did you ever mess with this stuff? It is really weird.  It is supposed to tell you what your state of mind, your health, your intellect, your emotions, in short, your entire life status is supposedly contained in the mathematical computation of the various cycles of the chemical systems of your body.  I suppose it could become addictive.  It might be able to snatch someone into its grasp just out of curiosity.  A person could start to measure the truth of the graph against the truth of how the day is going.  It could get interesting to have someone go to bed and wonder what is going to happen tomorrow when the intellectual cycle is going to be in the minus 90 range and the emotional will be in the plus 75 area.  That situation could perhaps keep someone awake all night wondering when the phenomena are going to hit.  What if nothing happens?  That's easy.  It's because the sleepless night due to nervous energy skewed the normal influences of the elements.  So, tomorrow night don't let it get to you.
Well, that's not easy to do.  After all, aren't we all gluttons for future information?  Don't we all thrive on the dream of being able to predict what is going to happen?  How I'm going to feel?  How much energy will I have for "x" activity?  This is what we do.  We would not give a hoot about our rythms if we didn't bet on the possibility that we would then be able to predict tomorrow.  Let's face it.  Here I am doing this at 1:40 AM just because I looked at the biorythm chart that I checked through Google and it told me some very ugly stuff.  Like intellect = -89;  Physical = -65;
Emotional = + 30; Intuition = -41.  Whoa, why wait until tomorrow?  Oh, yeah, it is tomorrow.  Intellect, -89?  If I had a dog, at that level he could do this better than I!  -89?  Sheeesh!  Isn't that close to absolute zero?  It's gotta be.
All I can say is that I am glad that I am not hooked on the biorythm stuff.  Imagine going through all this denial once every single month?  No, wait, five or six times a month.  Every time one of your key elements goes into the dumper your whole life goes with it.  Who wants to live like that?  
You can tell that I am not going to get addicted to this hocus-pocus.  I'm crazy enough as it is.  I don't have to get out of my own back yard to find more crazy stuff.  Besides, I can live comfortably without caring about the future.  I already know what's going to happen anyway.  That's just the way I like it.  No drama.  No suspense.  Just blog away until you go away to stay with no sway and no swing, ding-a-ling, ding!

HUMAN NATURE + TECHONOLOGY + COMPETITION

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qbVn9cVez08 

I have to confess that I did not watch five minutes of the Olympic Games this past Summer.  My brain was occupied by too many other things.  Still is.  One of the interesting stories to come out of the great international meet is beginning to come home to me and it makes me think about human nature in ways that I have considered before, but with added elements this time.  It is the element of an elite, world class athlete, and others in his class, whose legs have either been amputated or have never developed.  Over the years, prosthetic legs have taken on some much more esthetic tones than the ones shown on the right, but those that you see here are the tools of the world class runner.  This is a marriage between nature and technology, about which, more later.

I think one of the reasons why I did not want to watch the olympic competition this year was mainly because I cannot bring myself to care about the minute difference that separates the winner from the loser at this level.  I cannot get accustomed to the fact that the fellow in the picture lost a race to a rival from Brazil by 0.07 of one second.  The winner ran 200 meters in 21.45 seconds.  (260 yards)  That is rather impressive.  
What is somewhat more impressive is that this fellow, Oscar Pistorius from South Africa qualified for the regular olympics, not just the para-olympics.  He did very well against the athletes in the regular olympics but could not prevail.  
As I was reading about this today, I wondered about the ability of humans to go beyond the threshold of "adapting" in order to reach levels of accomplishment that many fellow human beings cannot begin to imagine as being possible.  We admire it in fully "equipped" humans and we shake our heads in a greater level of awe when we witness it happening in those who are not fully "equipped."  Some of it is technology, but I am convinced that the human spirit goes beyond the technology and conducts us to the upper levels of achievement.  
As I was reading this, I had pictures in my mind of alpine skiers who have been blessed with ever improving technology for many years now.  Imagine, their sport measures winning and losing times in decimals of four places.  I ask myself if these athletes can really sense time that is that thinly sliced?  Every time I think of this, I have Franz Klammer the flamboyant Austrian skier who litterally flew down the mountain in the 1970's to win the gold for his country in the downhill competition.

Franz Klammer dominated the world of downhill skiing during the mid-1970s and over the course of his career, he won an unprecedented 26 World Cup races. But his finest hour indisputably came during the 1976 Winter Olympics in Innsbruck, Austria when he dramatically responded to the pressure of the home fans and won the Olympic downhill by 0.33 of a second.

See, I remembered.  I cannot forget.  We all thought that he was going to die.  But he didn't, and everyone still remembers.  If you watch the winter olympics in 2014, you stand a chance of seeing this historic run.  No one had ever pushed himself that close to the edge before.  It's a pleasure just thinking about it.  Please note that they were keeping time with only two decimals back then.

Back to the "Blade Runners."  Right now they cannot defeat the "able bodied" humans.  Will they ever reach that point?  Is it a question of technology or a question of human body mechanics?  Right now, we don't know.  Maybe someday we will.  Those of you who are younger than I am stand the chance of finding out.

I now put a human element into this whole thing.  Oscar Pistorius was defeated by the runner Oliveira from Brazil in an upset.  NO ONE in the entire stadium expected it.  Oliveira came from behind and made up a wide gap before nosing out Pistorius.  Now, these runners cannot stick their nose out as far as the guys with two entire working legs, but I did see a little leaning there and it was enough to bring home the bacon for the Brazilian.  Pistorius has been the "unbeatable" one for a long time.  His post race behavior has been somewhat less than galant.  I know how he feels.  I also have felt and observed enough winning and losing in my life to feel the vibes of those who come in second.  Personally, I prefer to come in last, totally outclassed, than to lose by 0.07 of one second.  That would crush me too.  Such is life.
Technology and a bunch of other stuff aside, I have observed something else.  Πάντα Ρει [Nothing stays the same forever.]  Everyone gets over-matched sooner or later.  Every human knows it. I haven't met one or observed one who has ever prepared for it.  Now that it has happened to Oscar, it is the moment for him to start getting used to it.  Now is now the time to mourn.  Now is the time to go on to bigger and better things.  
It's easy for me to say, old man sitting here at my desk pontificating.  I am blessed that there is no one close by who can betray my lack of authority on matters of learning how to lose.   So, I'm quitting while I'm ahead.
  

BLUE MOON -- AUGUST 31, 2012 -- HEAVENLY

http://www.redorbit.com/news/space/1112685242/blue-moon-neil-armstrong-083112/

The night of the "blue moon" came and went.  The Voice from the Kitchen and I were out enjoying it and reveling in it since it was a very clear night.  It was clear because the air had ben scrubbed the day before by the thunderstorm.  Remember?  So I didn't write about the blue moon.  Tonight, browsing around for a picture of blue moons in Google Images, I came across something that made me think of the days when I was younger.  You're looking at it.  Here's what it made me think of.
It was Thanksgiving.  There was a picture on the front page of the newspaper that was intriguing to me at my young age (10 or 12?)  It pictured a turkey standing on an axe handle that was bieng held on the horizontal by a young farm boy.  I was really taken by the picture and I told EFR Dion how impressed I was by the picture.  I was in for a bubble bursting lesson in real life.  He said, "It's not true.  That is a set-up picture, not a real snapshot."  I have to tell you that  I was not very happy to hear that.  I shook my head and then he rubbed it in.  "Can't you see that the turkey's feet are not grabbing the handle like they should.  The photographer took a turkey picture and a little farmboy picture and put them together.  I was enlightened, but not happy that I had somehow been "used."  
So, when I saw the picture above of a "Blue Moon" and a Great Blue Heron I actually controlled myself, shook my head and thought, no big deal, it's a fake.  So Mr. Photog, whoever you are and wherever you may be, in this day of "Photoshop,"  I have to say that the idea is a real good one.  I also have to say that I'm still holding off from being impressed.  I am not counting out the possibility that you did get lucky on August 31, 2012, but there are so many coincidences involved here that I think I'll pass on the Ohhs and Ahhs for this time.

I do not want to pass on the fact that Neil Armstrong was laid to rest on the day of the Blue Moon.  That was contrived too, no doubt, except that when a human celebration is involved, it's more like aligning the tributes rather then creating contrivances.  After all, he did die of natural causes.  Maybe a higher power was involved.  No matter what, all I want to say is "Nice touch."  As Belle and I were exchanging ideas about this, I thought of the other "old guy" who could have made hay out of this, "The Rest of the Story" guy, Paul Harvey.  
That's it for today.  J'ever notice how much nostalgia can attack you with just one little bit of stimulus?  It's crazy, I tell ya.

THALIDOMIDE, RAPE, ABORTION, GOD

http://news.yahoo.com/german-drug-firm-makes-1st-apology-thalidomide-161625770--finance.html

FILE - In a 1965 file photo provided by the U.S. Department of Health, a three-year-old girl, born without arms to a German mother who took the drug thalidomide, uses power-driven artificial arms fitted to her by Dr. Ernst Marquardt of the University of Heidelberg in Germany. Pharmaceutical company Gruenenthal, German manufacturer of anti-morning sickness drug thalidomide, has for the first time apologized to people who were born with congenital birth defects as a result of its use. Chief executive Harald Stock said Friday, Aug. 31, 2012 that the company had failed to reach out "from person to person" to the victims and their mothers over the past 50 years.
                            MWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWM
I saw this today and I cannot let it go.  Why?  Because I was in Europe when it was at its height.  I was there and I met one mother who had borne a baby with no legs and she had come to Rome to offer her sufferings to God.  She was from Belgium and the baby was her first.  It was a rather hard meeting, standing there in St. Peter's Square with the mother carrying her baby, accompanied by her husband and, if I remember well, his mother.  The other thing that I remember from that day is the quiet acceptance of the family and the resignation to the Will of God.  We spoke for about fifteen minutes and then went on our way.  I have never forgotten them.

My mind being what it is, took me down another path when I saw this picture and the accompanying story on the Internet.  I remembered that this was about the time of the civil take-over taking place in the Congo...The Belgian Congo in mid-Africa.  Some of you can remember that from your geography books in elementary school, way back when.  I had an attack of memory about the viciousness of the insurgency  and the news that was leaking up north into Europe during it all.  We were in school and in the monastic life besides, so daily news was not high on our list of activities.  But this was quite traumatic.  It was all the more so because it brought us face to face with religious persecution as well.  Part of our pain was caused by the news that the rebel soldiers had routinely raped nuns after killing the priests and their closest helpers.  

These are the two thought streams that invaded me as I read the story about the Thalidomide and a third that hit me as a consequence of the first two.  It is known that none of the afflicted families, to anyone's knowledge procured abortions.  There were perhaps some, but Thalidomide or rape, though abortion could have been an option in some quarters, it was not a part of the regular discourse.   It is known that there were some nuns who became pregnant consequent to the attack.  It is a fact that many of the families of those courageous women took them in  and raised the children.  There were even one or two of the religious congregations who took it upon themselves to raise the children.  Some of them left the religious life to be with their child.  All of them are noble examples of what it means to be a living martyr for the glory of God.  

I run these things through my mind and I think of how strong and valiant people can be in the face of adversity.  I think of the Thalidomide babies and their families.  They represent stories of personal lifelong dedication for the benefit of the new life.  There were many Thalidomide babies born without any limbs at all.  They are still with us, and those who have seen them through life to this point must be with them as well.  Old, but still there.  The nuns who were given the children took them and still  have them, of course.  I often wonder if any of them ever went back to the monastic life.  I wonder about the bonds of love that tie the babies born under these two stressful circumstances to their parents.  Today, more than at other times when I have the fleeting memory of the young family in the Square in Rome am I moved to wonder and awe at the life that they must have.  

Finally, I have to shake my head at the thought of the reality at the other end of the spectrum... abortion.  Yes, I have known women who have had abortions.  I dare say that they may have more significant emotional scars than the Thalidomide families and the victims of the Congolese rebels.  These days, we talk about abortion with such a cavalier attitude and such a "health- care" detached tone, as though abortion was nothing more than tonsillitis.  I look at two of my friends who procured abortions and I think of a third whom I have not seen in more than 30 years now.  They lead "normal" lives, but they never fail to tell me that they need prayers.  They are always reaching out, practically pleading for warmth and assurance of forgiveness.  Today I was blessed with some thoughts of comfort presented to me by the Good Lord.  He is reminding me that along the road of life, everything that happened to others happened to me.  Everything that has come to my head and my heart is still there for a purpose.  This is one of those days when the tips of God's wings (Psalm 91) brushed my cheeks and I am grateful for it.  

I hope that He answers my prayer that He should give you a fly-by too.

EVERY 30 YEARS THIS HAPPENS IN SO CAL

LOOK!
IT'S TRUE!
DUCKS REALLY LIKE IT IN THE RAIN!
IT TOOK ME THE BETTER part of a century to actually experience it.  
And, in Southern California to boot!
All you people who live in the real world must think that I have completely oozed out of my gourd..  You're nearly right.  It was nearly 2:20 PM when I heard a strangely deep and rumbling sound that sounded like something I used to hear often in the Summer.  To be sure that I would not miss something unusual, I left my desk and ran outside to check to see if I could be right.  I opened the door and sure enough, there were three or four drops of water about to hit the pavement.  The palm trees were dancing and the Brazilian Pepper Trees were snapping with glee.  The air smelled of lightning and thunder and the pop of hard driven marble sized drops of water began to insinuate itself into my ears.  YES! There was a flash of lightning followed by that familiar low rumble that rolls across the skies.  The rain did not make my world wait long.  It came fast and furious and before long was not really falling, but fairly flying over the surface of the earth.  Yes!  The wind was in charge and the rain just went along for the ride.  I opined that it was now about 2:30 and that by 2:45 we would no longer have this marvelous display of a playful Mother Nature to entertain ourselves.  So, in my light T-shirt and gym shorts I stayed outside under the carport roof.  This was too much fun to tear myself away from after 30 years of deprival. YES! you heard me, 30 years.  It is now about 2:50 and the wind and the rain are still toying with each other.  It must be serious because now the flock of ducks who normally live on the small pond that you see above begin to come back.  This terribly buffoonish thought fills my mind, "It's raining cats and dogs and only the ducks show up."  Now, I ask you, how stupid is that?  I live in a mobile home park.  The roar of the rain hitting all the aluminum is invigorating.  It is Mother Nature making sure that she gets all the attention she needs while the getting is good.  It is now 3:15 and I am having a great time.  I am no longer a grey haired old coot.  I am now a 10 year old child enjoying a thunderstorm.  I take a step out from under the protection of the roof.  Ouch!  That's cold for a southern Mojave Desert kid.  So I duck back under the roof, but there is no way that I am going to re-enter the house.  
By now there are puddles under the carport roof.  Neat-o!  I get my bare feet in there and splash around like there's no tomorrow.  At the end of the carport driveway there is a gutter and, of course, it is full and rushing, but too cold still  because of the driving rain.  So I play in the puddles instead and the wind and the rain and the lightning and thunder are still keeping me company.  
MY CAMERA!  SHEESH! HOW COULD I FORGET?  Into the house I go.  Camera always at the ready on my desk.  See, I'm not that far gone.  I keep wishing now that the rain will not abate because I want the power of the storm to be visible in the picture.  I point it at the ducks.  They are celebrating.  There is not a one of them in the pond.  They are splishn' an' splashn' on the park road in the rain.  They're like I am.  No way they are going to be conservative in the great opportunity to be out in the rain.  Then I think of it.  Wow, how neat not be ten years old any more.  Here I am outside in a thunderstorm where I always wanted to be, 'cept, "You Know Who" [MJT Dion] would NEVER allow that.  Well, "You Know Who" number one is now with the angels and "You Know Who" number two has just joined me outside almost in the rain.  She has never seen weather like this in Southern California.  So we're both two happy little children.

Believe it or not, it is now 3:30 and the rain is beginning to abate.  It's now just a sprinkle.  The Voice from the Kitchen (The cute little girl) has gone back in to prepare to go to a meeting.  Me?  Now that it's not raining much I'm going to play in the water-filled gutter, of course.  You didn't think that I would let all that good water go to waste, now, did you?  Of course not.  Now, I set up the camera, put it on 10 seconds, and here I am, crazy little kid disobeying the rules of the house on 1 Hartford Street.  Barefoot!  
The whole thing came to an end at around 3:40 or so.  That's over an hour! I was out there the whole time too.  Work or no work, I didn't care.  The sun came out and ruined everything.  But I didn't care any more.  I saw one more good, solid thunderstorm in Southern California one more time.  All the more reason why you now know that you don't have to cry at my funeral.

THE CREATIVE GAME GOES ON

This one is about blogs.  I know that you don't spend much time browsing the Internet looking for cute blog names.  I don't either, but tonight because my brain was rather mushy, I found myself looking at a list of blogs and their front pages.  It brought me back to the games we played as I was growing up.  Cute license plate messages, like L84DD8, and a bunch of other cute nonsense.  Then of course there were the band names.  You know, the racier the better.  The best I ever found was the HummDrumms.  How's that for "ho-hum?"  Last night I got into the epitaph kick and I got one today from a dead hypochondriac who told me, "See, I told you I was sick."  Heee.
Blogs are a little different.  Through the hundreds of cover pages I saw tonight, there were surprisingly few with pet animals as the featured attraction.  There were exactly two that were "racy."  Note the quotes.  That means, "Close but not really."  Quite a few about nature and also quite a few about hallucinatory stuff.
Let me go see if I can find some that would be interesting to you.  Just for kicks.
f8hasit -- picture of a glassy eyed "Chuckie" type child
Dark Matters - Two guys in a dark pub
The Qi Papers -- Two white rabbits ?
Pedal Pushers -- Cycling, of course
Cycle Chic from Copenhagen -- Racy thigh on a bicycle -- Ah, those Danes!
Dark UFO -- Grey octagon on grey
The World from my Window -- Picture of a mushroom! Huh?
The Bitchy Waiter -- Picture of a pretty, 40's style diner waitress

Holyoke Home -- See Picture here:  Anyone you know?
10 Zillion Light Years -- a cartooned dodo bird
LoopyBoopy -- Big, Bug-Eyed, frazzled doll 
Stuff No One Told Me, But I learned Anyway -- Animals piled    
                                      up, sleeping on the body of an elephant
Everything I Like Causes Cancer -- Two Big Wading Boots
The Chubby Vegetarian -- Bowl of Meatless lasagna [I know a chubby vegetarian.]
BB-Blog -- A mechanical line drawing of a power pistol drill
Incidental Comics -- Weird comic book page
Herbie Likes Spaghetti -- Do I gotta tell ya this one?
E, Myself and I -- Front porch of a brick house

So, see, pretty dull stuff, right.  I didn't even tell you about 
Krusty Kurmujjin by Fourinchdevil.  I was holding that one for the climax.  

So anyway, now that you've spent 15 minutes reading this drivel, you don't have to waste time trying to find interesting blog names.  I have just proven to you that they don't exist...Except for the last one, of course.

EPITAPHS FOR THE AGES

2012by ~vuzel

Digital Art / Drawings / Surreal

©2011-2012 ~vuzel

Digital Art / Drawings / Surreal

©2011-2012 ~vuzel

This came to me today.   Lots of stuff comes to me and sometimes (most times) I forget it.  Not this time.  This time I remembered and tonight I sat down and in thirty minutes came up with nine screwy epitaphs.  No, not the kind you can see at the Old North Church in Boston.  These are reminiscent of the game we used to play with band names.  So, I'm throwing these out at you and inviting you to play along with me.  Here, I'll go first to get you in the mood, then you can see what you come up with.  Don't forget to carry a slab of paper and a pencil with you.  These things have a way of flashing by you when you least expect it.  Be a sport and get on board.  If you don't, you're probably the type who would go right ahead and cry at my funeral, despite my urging to the contrary.
Here we go:


1. I KEPT TELLING HIM THAT MY FEET WERE KILLING ME.

2. I SAW YOU CRYIN BY MY COFFIN
NOW I AM THE ONE WHOSE LAWFFIN
CUZ YOU AIN'T DOIN' NO MORE COUGHIN

3. THE ECONOMY MUST BE BAD
NOT A JOB CAN BE HAD
NO DAISIES TO PUSH -- IT IS SAD

4. I WAS THINKING CREMATION
BUT I HAD ALREADY BOUGHT THE COFFIN
'TWOULDA BEEN A SHAME TO BURN IT TOO

5. I HAD TWO SONS
ONE WAS THIN, ONE WAS NOT
THEY WERE BOTH SLICK AS SNOT
OR SO THEY THOUGHT
BUT NOW MY BILLS ARE ALL THEY GOT

6. HE SAID I'LL BURY YOU FOR A SONG
BUT ALL I GOT WAS A RINGING GONG

7. IT COST A FORTUNE FOR THIS STONE
BUT I'LL GET EVEN
THEY DIDN'T GET MY I-PHONE

8. HERE I LIE, QUIET AND STILL
AND MY WIFE STILL HAS THE BILL

9. HERE I LIE FAR FROM BROKEN HEARTED
        THERE IS NO WORK FOR THE DEAR DEPARTED

THE AFFORDABLE CARE ACT

REBATE OF PREMIUM DUE TO 

MISSING LOSS RATIO TARGET

At some points in the past I have used this space to make some important remarks concerning life in the US, especially when it concerned important information about money.
This another one of those times.

One of the points of the Affordable Care Act ("ObamaCare for some of you) is that an insurance company is restricted to spending 85% of the premiums it collects for health care services such as doctors' bills, hospital stays and activities that contribute to the improving of health care quality.  No more than 15% can be spent on administrative costs like salaries, sales and advertising.  If an insurance company does not meet the requirements of the law, it must then reimburse the portion of the premium that it overspent (or even underspent) to the employer or to the employee.  Insurance companies have begun to do just that.  My son has received his notice from the group health insurance of his employer telling him that the rebate for his group will be 0.5% of all the premiums collected by the health care insurance.

When you analyze this, you can see that there could be a fairly large upside to this concept for the employees as well as the employers.  If employees practice good health discpline and therefore spend less at the doctor and the hospital, there is a chance that the rebate could even go higher since less money will have to be paid out to health care providers from the premiums collected.

This is a new concept for health insurance providers.  It is a good one.  For 20 years I managed the group health benefits for some large companies.  Every year I would battle the insurance companies about the outrageous 15 to 18% increases in premiums.  Many times I was able to get something for 11 or 12% but the battle was fierce and many times not very polite.  And, there never was a rebate.

This is not a totally new concept for Workers' Compensation Insurance.  Workers' Compensation Insurance premiums are paid entirely by the employer.  They are a percentage of the wages and salaries that the employer pays to the employees.  If the employees work safely and do not incur any injuries, the premium of the employer goes down.  This is measured on a three year running average.  This serves as a strong incentive for people to work more safely.  Some employers reward employees for their good behavior in this realm.

It is therefore not outside the parameters of reality that a given group of employees could contribute to the controlliing of the premiums paid to their group health care provider by practicing strong health improvement discipline to keep the premiums down, or the rebates up.  Think about it.  Employers and employees can now do something about putting pressure on the insurance providers to keep prices reasonable because they are constrained to control their costs in relation to the premiums received.

This is an oversimplified description of the process.  It is however correct.  To get more information and to see what possibilities may exist for you, go online and educated yourself here:  http://www.healthcare.gov/law/features/costs/value-for-premium/index.html

Employeers and employees, look at this.  It could be just what you have been seeking.

JOE -- WHAT IS YOUR TASTE? HIGH OR LOW ALTITUDE

You wine snobs out there are going to like this.  I got it from National Public Radio.  The words are mine but the topic is pure NPR.

This is about one of my favorite beverages.  Listen to this.

Hmmm, for a low altitude variety this fills the front of the mouth with a bold chlorophyl tingle reminiscent of an early morning dew.  It is vibrant without being violent and doesn't hide behind chocolaty sweetness.  By the time it works its way down the laryngial passage it has suffused the sinuses with the energy of the sun chasing low hanging morning clouds from the horizon.  It provides the esophogal passage with the comforting massage needed to awaken the mental capacities and prepare them for the challenges of the day.

So much for the low altitude stuff.

Hmmm, an olfactory ecstasy.  This high altitude terroir variety is a symphony of redolence vibrating with the tones of rosemary, lavender and suffused with the smoothness of the neighboring fruit.  The grassy relationship has been broken and the gentle passage from the front of the tongue to the epiglotis is like a sweet massage of an angel's fingertips.  With all of this gentleness and silky comfort, it retains the ability to set up internal vibrations in the upper chest cavity, thus preparing the heart for the rigors of the day.  This beverage, I have to admit, with its chocolaty spine just has to be the best damned coffee that I have every tasted.

IS THIS BUCK PRIVATE COFFEE OR FIVE STAR GENERAL COFFEE

I kid you not, this was a real life interview (you do remember that I said that the words are mine) about the finer points of coffee.  I did not make up the part about the altitude.  The truth of the matter is that the wider spread between hot air and cold air at the higher altitudes produces coffee beans that make better tasting coffee than the beans that thrive at the lower elevations where the temperature tends to be more stable between night and day.  The coffee buyer who was explaining this said that this trend toward more discriminating tastes in coffee is not that old.  Maybe only about 25 or 30 years or so.  
He told the story of when he and his friend went to Guatamala to meet some coffee farmers for the first time.  The farmers had never met anyone who was interested in talking to them about the finer points of growing coffee.  They grew it. Harvested it.  Threw in into a truck.  It was weighed.  They got paid.  Went out and got drunk one night and went back to the hills and waited for the next harvest.  End of story.  There was one family of coffee growers who were nice to these buyers.  No one had ever come to talk to them personally about a business relationship. They learned a lot from one another and the family stopped selling their coffee through the co-operative and selling it directly to these entrepreneurs, for bigger money.
Now, since then,  we have developed coffee tasters and snobby language descriptions of how it tastes.  
I like coffee.  I drink it hot and black.  I do care how it tastes, but these days I have to confess that the best coffee comes straight from Mexico, roasted, ground and canned and $7.50 for 34.5 ounces.
It's not too fancy in the taste department.  It just kinda goes down, shivering and scratching all the way down, finds your ass, gives it one swift kick  and you're off and running for the rest of the day.  Ole!

THINGS YOU NEVER FORGET

What are they?  C'mon give it a try.  Fill in the blanks.
1. -
2. -
3. -
4. - My first Schaefer fountain pen
5. - My first bicycle
6. - My first watch ( I still have it)  No, it doesn't work.
7. - My first dog bite
8. - My first job
9. - My first loss of consciousness and the subsequent headache
10. - My first fight.  I lost.
11. - My first pair of trousers. (long pants)
12. - My first belt.  A long time after the trousers.  EFR Dion always said that I had no hips.
13. - My first festive meal with the grown-ups.
14. - My first test paper. Spelling, English, 99%.  EFR Dion says, "If it's not 100% don't show me."
15. - My first "Public speaking" assignment.  7th grade.  "How to play cribbage."
16. - My first bus ride alone.  I was 6 months shy of 6 years old.  Going to school.
17. - My first stay in the hospital.  Surgery.  Tonsillitis.  48 hours of Hell, 9th level down! 5yrs old
18. - My first "outsider" baby sitter
19. - My first visit to the dentist.  14 years old.  He was not a nice person.  Really.
20. - My first REAL fishing rod and reel that was only mine.  I should devote more than just one line to this one.  This was a graduation gift from my uncle Normand [French "d"].  It was a seven foot, split bamboo casting rod made specifically for casting with a fixed spool casting reel.  What he bought was a high end Garcia reel that he had come to know in France when he served in WWII.
I spend hours in a field in front of our house, practicing how to use this equipment.  The first time I used it while pickerel fishing with EFR Dion, he caught two very nice pickerel while I got "skunked."  I can't remember if my dear father ever did let me live that one down.

So there you have it.  Just a little trip down memory lane.  I hope it triggered some happy moments for you.

CELEBRATION OF LIFE

No, it is not Christmas.  Not even close.  It is right in the middle of Summer.  I am right in the middle of the first absolute period of perfect downtime that I can remember ever having in my adult life.  I am enjoying the physical downtime, but the mental wheels have never stopped.  Here I am visiting someone who lives some 500 miles from us and she doesn't remember the WEP Code of her wireless email broadcaster.  So, I am writing this in Word and getting it ready for the oven.  When I get back to my working cave, I will unleash it on all you unsuspecting denizens of Dion’s sandbox.  I have decided that this is going to be one of those semi-religious, totally moral offerings.  I am sharing time with an intimate friend who is a very special person indeed.  She is admirable.  She is a person who is a pillar of righteousness on the model of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, to say nothing about Jesus Himself. 

Like the couple in the representation on the upper right quadrant of the page, she had to make a choice once that was similar to the one that Joseph and Mary had to make.  You can read all about them in the Good Book, Matthew 1; 18 – 25.  Can you imagine what it was like to get pregnant out of wedlock in a society where you could get stoned to death?  Can you imagine what would have happened to Joseph had he been found out as the protector of such a woman?  Read the paragraph and imagine what Mary and Joseph had to go through in trying to make up their minds about how to thread that needle and still stay alive.  They did it.  They made the choice for Life.  Not just the Life in the womb, but theirs as well.  Now, that was a Choice.  Our beloved friend did not have to dig that far down into herself to make the choice for life that she did, but given the social environment in which she made the choice, it was not easy. It never is.  Not for anybody.

She made the choice for life at the sacrifice of her own. Under her singular circumstances, she knew that she would have to take herself and the child through life alone.   No, she was not in the imminent danger of being stoned.  As far as we can tell, she was not in danger of dying.  Neither was the new being in her womb.  She chose life when she could have just as easily chosen death.  Yes, it could have been easy.  In some ways, that is.  In some ways it could have been easier than nurturing life.  But in the mind, heart and soul of the righteous person who was confronted with the choice, life was the only acceptable path.  Yes, even to the detriment of her very own reputation.  She did it.  Like Joseph, she let the other party completely off the hook.  Like Joseph, she saved three lives and now all three can celebrate the wonder of life in some kind of comfort. 

The child is no longer a child.  A loving daughter, yes, who is now an accomplished adult.  Not just an adult, but one who has a family of her own and even in these lean times, can claim a modicum of comfort and security that allows for the safe and warm upbringing of her own child.  Her own mother humbly celebrates her choice for life in a modest level of comfort that she can maintain through the loving support of her immediate family and her own professional accomplishments. 

Yes, the choice of life before and after conception is the choice for life and gusto in this world.  The choice in favor of life is not made on the spur of the moment.  The choice in favor of life is made on the way to adulthood.  The choice in favor of life is an eternal vow that develops in the very mind, heart and soul of the maturing human.  The choice in favor of life is a non-negotiable position in favor of the entire human community, not solely in favor of an individual.  The choice in favor of life is the most generous choice that any human can make for the sake of the larger human community.  The world is enriched by EVERY new life that is created.  Yes, I say that without reservations. 

Furthermore, and in conclusion I say without reservations that every choice for death causes the impoverishment of the human community, be it through abortion, adult homicide, war, civil punishment, suicide or whatever other category I have overlooked.  I am celebrating the courage and the love of my dear friend, her wonderful child and the other lives that have been touched and influenced by these deeply righteous, richly human people.  We should all be this powerful in our expression of the gift of human freedom.