DOUBLE EDGED LINGUISTIC SWORDS

“Personally, I’m always ready to learn, although I do not always like being taught.”

“An appeaser is one who feeds a crocodile, hoping it will eat him last.” 

“I only believe in statistics that I doctored myself.”

“Safari, so goody.”

“In politics, truth is so precious that she should always be attended by a bodyguard of lies.” (Perhaps not from Churchill)

There is always something to be learned by listening to someone who has a better command of the language than we do.  It is the liguistically gifted person who many times leaves us wondering, "Now why didn't I think of that."  

I admired my maternal grandfather for the way he could get get the most out of language by simply modulating the intonation of his voice.  For him, this was a way of making  either a humorous postulation or a final, sharp tipped point.

I'll never forget his favorite way to put down people who did not appreciate/understand the successful achievements of professional, hardworking members of the community.  I have to translate from the original French:  "Happy the poor in spirit (wink, wink)

for the Kingdom of heaven shall be theirs." (Matt 5 - Beatitudes)

It's like Churchill said about Clement Attlee, "...he has much to be modest about."

So, these are not oximorons, but because they are challenging, I couldn't leave the opportunity pass me by.  

So, what's the point?  It is this:  be prepared to appreciate the truth in the form that it presents itself to you ... prepare to be confronted by it in some strange places and in some strange ways.  Be ready.

OXIMORON WISDOM - YA CAN'T FIND IT IF YA DON'T LOOK

"You should always go to other people’s funerals. Otherwise, they won’t come to yours." 

(YOGI BERRA) 

"Most people my age are dead at the present time." (CASEY STENGLE) 

"As long as I've got a chance to beat you I'm going to take it." (LEO DUROCHER) 

“learning's a gift, even when "pain" is your teacher!" (MICHAEL JORDAN) 

"Superman don't need no seat belt." (MUHAMMAD ALI) 

"The only thing a golfer needs is more daylight." (BEN HOGAN) 

"We're so busy watching out for what's ahead of us that we don't take time to enjoy where we are." (CALVIN & HOBBS)

"We have met the enemy and he is us."  (POGO THE POSSUM aka WALT KELLY)

Now, let me tell you that July is going to be a very good month.  I am in the perfect position to tell you that because I am a summa cum loyalty to the wisdom of Pogo, the Possum/Consigliere of Albert the Alligator, mayor of the Okeefenokee Swamp whose history was created and detailed by none other than Walt Kelly.  So what fact proof is it that allows me to impose credibility on you according to the sage of the swamp?  Simply this:  

          Friday the 13th ain't comin' on Friday in July.  

Brothers and sisters, what more proof do you need?   Enjoy the bad luck free seventh month of ol' double 20...

But ... stay safely protected in the friendly, virus-free confines of your cozy nest.  I say, enjoy it now in preparation for the Friday 13th infection which is scheduled for coming November.  I don't ever remember Pogo having any preventive antidotes  for that eventuality.  

BTW, do newspapers have cartoon pages anymore?

I used to read the newspaper comic section all the time.  I even remember the very beginning of "Peanuts."  Those were the days when Snoopy walked on all four legs and he never had a thought bubble of his own.  

BTW, how many of are wondering what I am talking about?

Love ya's all.

THIS IS BIGGER THAN I THOUGHT

THIS IS DAUNTINGLY SCARY

There have been many things that have happened to me without warning.  Not all of them are equally good or equally bad;  not all are equally overcome or equally impossible to vanquish.  Some are so all consuming that they drive us humans to stand there, mouth agape, body trembling, heart pounding overtaken by the wish that what is happening will end soon -- like, SOON.  Somehow, it never does.

Real story from experience in a 3rd world country

Like this one.  7:00 PM during the first few moments of a parish meeting on the ground floor of the rectory, two young men crashed in from outside and breathlessly shouted that they needed help because the central marketplace was on fire.  The eastern edge of the marketplace was but 150 meters west of where we were.  

We responded in a quick reflex move that took us out of the door and running toward the blaze.  As we approached, we separated and each went his way to assess the situation.  Our group was quickly fractured, four became awe-filed spectators and two became engaged, driven by an inner force that they somehow could not define but which looked and felt like cunning, defensive anger.  The two forged ahead and discovered ways to fight back.  Like little Chihuahua dogs, finding openings where they could cheat the fire and steal some of its forage.  The two of us suddenly discovered that there were some pockets where valuable equipment could still be salvaged.  

We rounded up spectators and got them to help us save what could still be saved without putting ourselves in imminent danger.  We worked our strategy the length of the 150 meter frontage of the all wood structure.  We were in a "good" position since we were downwind from the flames and therefore somewhat protected by the soon to be consumed material before us.  Behind us was the open space of the central "common," as we say in Massachusetts.  It was there that we placed what we were saving.

The adrenaline was an inner tsunami that could not be quelled.  There quickly came a moment when we discovered that the dwellings across the street from the inferno were in danger of being torched.  We were able to marshall some young people to collect water so that the dwellers in the endangered buildings could hang wet blankets and other materials out of the windows to prevent the fire from spreading.  Some were able to bring water to the roof.

If we thought that our efforts to salvage material belongings was a steep challenge, we were in for a deeper and more painful reality:  accompanying the weeping and disoriented owners of the shops who, in the space of a few short, calamitous hours, found themselves completely divested of their entire inventory of goods, cash, equipment and, in some cases, shelter.  

In the end, we who were powerless to prevent the ravaging of the market, who had not lost our material assets, who were not totally downtrodden and able to bring a visible and tangible reality of human fraternity to those who were suffering huge losses, approached them and did our best to console them at the moment of devastation.  We did not stop the holocaust but we like to think that our miniscule outpouring of physical and emotional leverage brought some comfort and hope to those who were victimized.  

This happened 50 years ago.  I have not visited that town since then.  It might be possible that they have invested in a disaster preparedness organization over the years.  

Parish priest, San Mateo, Isabela, Philippines

MY AVATAR

           No picture attached here.  What you have to appreciate is the line drawn cartoonish creature on the right side of your screen.  That is what I have adopted as my avatar going back quite a few years.  This is the work of our second son.  This depiction of me is much more than just a little joke that is produced in a light hearted moment on the occasion of some calendar highlight.  You know what I am talking about, I'm sure...Birthday, Father's Day, Thanksgiving, etc.  I can't clearly remember the year nor the occasion, but I have treasured it from the start.  It is from that moment that I knew that this is the image that resides in my loving son's soul.  For that reason, I have adopted it in my deep soul domicile as well.  That's why I call it my avatar.

          Since this avatar is an embodiment of my identity as it dwells in the heart of my son, I keep it in the warmest corner of my creative spirit.  Notice that this expression of who I am includes two elements that are now nothing but figments of creative imagination.  The spirit of alcohol has become nothing but a mnemonic symbol, a reminder of joys past.  Joys that, as we all know, are better carried in our soul as lessons learned and as elements that help us to find deeper joys in the present.

          Note that there is no expression of tobacco.  That is a singular truth about me.  I have never indulged in the smelly practice of burning sot-weed before, during or after the moments of joy that high class whiskey releases in the heart of the imbiber.  

          I am glad that I have this artistic embodiment of the relationship that exists between me and the intimate creatures with whom I share the the deepest meaning of life.   I have written this in the hope that you can find something in the story that will bring something valuable to your life.

BTW, it has been 7 years since the last drop of alcohol has passed my lips.  Not bad for an "old guy", right?

THE NICE NIECE SHARES HER LOVE

13 year old niece expresses love

Elyza Loreine

The other day the Voice from the Kitchen received this on Facebook.  I don't do Facebook so I 

contacted the person who had sent it and asked all the pertinent questions.  As it happens, the 

artist is the daughter of the person who originated the Facebook post.  This is a source of joy

for us because the mother is our niece and the artist is her daughter.  When we first saw this

we were moved.  We did not know the age of the artist at the time.  Now that we know, we are 

all the more deeply impressed.

A part of our emotion in relation to this development is due to the fact that we too have a child

who is quite significantly endowed with artistic talent and when we behold what he produces

we feel the gratification deep down in our soul.  I feel the same way about the work of this young

lady.  I feel it as it comes over the email in the notes that her loving mother sends.  I am all the more impressed by the fact that we have been told that her favorite medium is acrylic paint.  I don't

really know why, but that strikes me as being rather impressive coming from a 13 year old.  

Furthermore, it makes me so happy to feel the loving support emmanating from a nurturing mother.

I hope that all of you will find some degree of spiritual warmth in the artistic expression

adorning the top of this page. 

By the way,  The "Papa Puttss" cartoon at the top of the right margin

is a rendition of the author if this blog as produced by the son

mentioned in the body of this post.  I am so proud of it that I

use it as my avatar in almost all that I produce.

YOU SHOULD WRITE A BOOK

"You should write a book!"

The Voice from the Kitchen tells me that all the time.  She asks me questions in the hope of getting a one sentence answer only to be subjected to my one semester exposé of what I think the answer is.

The other day she asked how the United States got to be the United States.  Were there always 50 states?  Where did they come from?  Now, tell me, is that a question that you can answer over a scoop of ice cream at 9:00 PM, just before bed time?  After about 15 minutes of not taking a breath, I pause, and she says, "You should write a book."

Now, I ask you, consider this:

                   Calvin is one of my favorite philosophers.

Now, for your information, and solely for your information and absolutely not for my personal gratification, if you want to read my autobiography, fictional, aspirational, spiritual, personal and whatever other adjective you can think of, consider these references, outside of "365 Thoughts" which in total has more than 700 "thoughts" over 10 short years:

"No Crying at my Funeral"   312 published posts

"Krusty Kurmudgeon"           100 published posts

"Salettinian"                          598 published posts

Oh, by the way, this is a warning:  Beware of weak grammar, typographical errors, the occasional foreign language presentation and, if memory serves me correctly, one or two street corner words.

Actually, the one that appears most often, if I am not mistaken is my go-to "stercus taurorum" which is easily translated by imagining yourself  strolling in the cow pasture taking care of where your feet fall.  If that doesn't work, Google it.

By the way, I did start my non-fictional autobiography once upon a time about 30 years ago.  I even sat down and crafted the outline that I would follow.  It was a gorgeous outline, so perfect, so innovatively creative!  I even wrote the foreword and about 10 pages of "story."  All I have left is the memory.  What I have left on the Internet starts in March of 2005.  If you are interested, the links are all yours, good, bad and in-between.

Peace and joy to you all.

MASKS AND OTHER COVERINGS

   I have to tell you a story that you will appreciate because it has a lot of human value.  It came to me ysterday as I was re-instituting the "365 Thoughts" relationship during the time of facial coverings.  I showed you my face, not anywhere nearly as fetching as the one above, but the seed for this story.  

Some years ago the Voice from the Kitchen and I had the precious opportunity to attend a Biblical Study seminar in Jerusalem.  It was scheduled for a full month and included classroom work as well as onsite visit with scholars dedicated to Holy Land studies.  It so happened that the site of our home base was on the border of the state of Israel and Bethlehem in the Palestinian Authority.  During our stay, we crossed th walled-off border fairly often.  The crossing took place in a zig-zag baffle of walls with a series of circular waiting halls. This place was the one that provided the easiest way for the university students from Bethlehem to get to the University of Jerusalem.

On this one particular day, there we were among what ws about a dozen students, men and women.  Men on one walland women on another and we "tourists"somewhere in the middle.  Males chatting with males and women, covered but for their eyes, having their brand of conversation among themselves. I remember that there were five of us, three from USA and to from Australia.

Then it happened.  Two male students came down the ramp and into the circle.  One was a mere 5'10" human.  The other was a Greek God, 6' 2", stars for eyes, a sunrise smile, wavy hair with not a single wayward strand.  I am here to tell you that not a single one of us 5 had any doubt about what the girls were feeling at the moment of this apparition.  The world was camping in their eyes.  Yes, we mere mortals talked about it on the way to our quarters and I for one have never forgotten it.  In fact I see the same phenomenon now that so many of us are wearing masks to cover all but our eyes these days.  

Despite the face covering, we recognize one another; we feel the smiles of those with whom we connect; we know who is bewildered and who is not, especially in the market place. In short, our eyes are the window into our soul.  I heard that from my grandfather when I was a little boy.  I lived it that day in the denumanizing environment of a harsh checkpoint when eyes lit up and we were all humans for a few blessed moments.

REMEMBER ME? WE HAVE TO GET IT BACK TOGETHER

Hello.  It's been ten years since I began this blog.  Over time it came to contain 690+ "Thoughts."  Lest you come to the conclusion that I ran out of material, I am here to reassure you that I still have some tucked away in the dark corners of my attic.  

It was the Wednesday evening before the celebration of Thanksgiving in 2010.  I decided that I could give my sons something to talk about after I had been taken back into the arms of the angels above.  Well, they are going to have to wait a short while more.

This rebirth is not the result of the Dion offspring asking for more.  On the contrary, it comes from two or three of you who told me that my lack of writing is missed.  I guess I really never gave it a thought - someone misses my scribbles!  Not just one, but some.  So, here I am, still in San Diego, still enjoying the sweet sounds of the Voice from the Kitchen and falling asleep with pictures of EFR Dion floating in my fuzzy head.

To those of you who may have come to wonder if I had lost my sense of humor, allow me to show you this:

I have a more serious one for church

So, now, since Google changed the formatting of the Blog Program, you will have to suffer through the change of the position of the margins.  Life is a never ending challenge.  I invite you to accompany me side by side.  The pieces will be short, they will not be too serious and they may even have some interesting information from time to time.

Oh, BTW, my fingers are starting to refuse to obey me and other functions get fuzzy too.  I will do my best to proof read the items in order to minimize the typos.

Welcome back to where we left off.

MINORITY MAJORITY - VIEW FROM GROUND LEVEL

I can't resist the temptation to address the "Black Lives Matter" axiom in view of my humorous life trajectory.

I have to say that I am white, product of two white people.  One was born in Canada and one in New Hampshire.  I was born in Massachusetts.  All the time I lived in the USA, 24 years, I lived in a cultural bubble that was more French Canadian than Anglo American.

For two of those years I lived through the tsunami of Puerto Rican immigration that hit the east coast of the USA.  I  was working in an industrial, high volume printing company.  I found myself striving to learn Spanish based on my French fluency thereby helping the immigrants to navigate life on the "mainland."  

I confess that I did not learn much Spanish, but I did learn to like the the people and to support them against the prejudice of the long-term residents.

Then, I left my hometown work, went away to school and eventually the country.  I graduated from a famous Dominican University connected to the Vatican and went from Rome to Manila where I lived and worked for some ten+ years.  

Along the way, somewhere close to twenty years, I learned two inexorable  truths:  Prejudice is a human condition, no matter what it is aimed at.  I have seen it caused by differences of race, nationality, ethnicity, religion, sex, educational achievement, profession and political affiliation.  In other words, we humans have a tendency to judge other people according to our desire to be better than others no matter the basis of our attraction or detraction.  

The other truth is:  I am prejudiced in favor of warm climate regions of planet earth.  I decided long ago never again to live too far away from the equator.  I made that vow to myself during my four year domicile in Rome (42 degrees north).  I spent many years in the Philippines (17 degrees north).  I have lived accordingly since then.  That's why I live in San Diego. (33 degrees north)

San Diego can be a very uncomfortable location for a person who is comfortable with personal biases.  Along the way I have shown you the mix of the population in the neighborhood where we have lived since 1977.  It is what I sometimes refer to as the "Heinz 57 Varieties" show case of San Diego.  I have joked about the fact that Sunday Masses rarely have a total of 10 Caucasians in the building, including the presiding priest.  That's only the beginning.  

Talk about the leaders of the area churches:  Baptist: Korean;

Presbyterian:  Korean;  Jehovah's Witnesses:  African American;

Catholic (2): 1- Vietnamese; 1- Causasian;  Methodist: Filipino;  Baha'i: Middle Eastern.

Pharmacies: (4)  1- Traditional Chinese herbal; 2-Vietnamese; 1- Rite Aid has a Caucasian manager and the rest of the staff is Vietnamese, Hmong, Latin, African American, Filipino, Laotian, etc.

Dentists:  Vietnamese, Hong Kong

Super market: Chinese / Vietnamese

Tailors: (2)  1 - Chinese and 1 - Vietnamese

Florists:  (2)  2- Latin

7 Eleven store:  Indian

Jeweler: Chinese

Doughnut shop:  Mexican

Restaurants: (2) Thai || (3)  Vietnamese  || (2)  Mexican  

                       McDonalds - Mexican;  Kentucky Fried - Latin;

                       Jack-in-the-Box - Caucasian

Small general store:  (3) 1 - Mexican; 2 - Iraqi (Chaldean)

Cell Phone, etc:  (2)  Latin

Women's clothes: Vietnamese

Massage:  Thai

Liquor: (2) Iraqi (Chaldean)

Barbers + Hair stylists:  (5) 2 Iraqi (Chaldean); 1 Chinese; 2 Vietnamese

Pizza take-out: Latin

Roller rink: (The only one for miles and miles around!) The owner-operator is Caucasian.

US Postal service station:  I occasionally see a Caucasian on duty

Clinics-General health care- Private: (2)  Vietnamese

Public Laundramats: (2)  Latin

Auto repair/Tires: (4) 3 repair = Vietnamese; 1 tires = Latin

 N.B. - Latin is used because there are many varieties of them in the area, not all of them Mexican.

Gasoline stations: (3)  I confess, I really don't know the owner/operators of these businesses.

I hope you've enjoyed the tour.

...BEYOND A REASONABLE DOUBT...

Life on jury duty

I am on jury duty again.  I don't know why I have been so lucky in my born days to have such an oft repeated jury duty history.  I have been a constant and consistent citizen of America's Finest City since 1975. I hate to break it to you Bostonians, but that means San Diego, California.  
I have served on Federal Court juries twice and on Superior Court juries three times.  The federal court rules held me on call for six months.  The two trials occupied me for a little more than one week each time.  
The Superior Court service needed me for a) 2 weeks; b) 1 week and now, c) it is foreseen to last for about 3 weeks.  This is quite a heavy duty demand placed upon 12 people who have been sworn to construct an "reasonable doubt-free" conviction about the matters that will be placed before them.  I'm telling you that it takes a lot of mental and emotional discipline to walk that razor's edge.  I liked it better when I was the key witness one time 40 years ago.  
It was a civil case, Emcon vs Kyocera and I was the human resources director working for Kyocera.  At the time when Kyocera acquired Emcon I advised the executive management of  Kyocera to liquidate the Emcon workforce and start a new one from scratch.  Kyocera did not agree with me and took the Emcon employees as their own.  After about 6 months, Kyocera  closed Emcon without warning and the employees of Emcon sued.  I am on record as advising Kyocera to not offer employment to the Emcon people from the beginning and I I did it again after about 6 months.  
On the practical side, that made me a rather interesting person of interest.  In  civil case there is a process called "discovery."  It is a simple equivalent to "investigation" in a criminal case. I was therefore called to testify under oath regarding the facts behind the allegations made by the accusing party. In this case I was invited to "talk" to the lawyers who represented the accusers, under oath and in the presence of the attorney for the defendants.  That took 16 hours of my precious time.  My employer at the time agreed to pay me despite my absence.  Not only that but I was able to negotiate an emolument of $150 per day from the attorney of the accusing side.  As it turned out he was a second rate lawyer.  

The accusing lawyer was rather surprised when I told him that I was not "represented."  He knew that he was going to have a good time when I told him that I did not need representation.  You know the type, C- GPA.  

Anyway, my three weeks of duty are finished.  It took us only 1.5 days of deliberation to put the guy in the tank.  So now I am free to go on my way for the next two years.  I wonder if I will get the opportunity to declare someone not guilty one of these days.

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THINGS HAVE CHANGED ... SEE BELOW...

Aren't these beautiful !?!
Yes, they sure are.  They look so nice.  They are so well formed and carefully chiseled and pleated.  The colors are perfect, the leaves are glossy and smooth and the accentuating ferns carry the spirit of the creation up to the Creator.  Perfect, right?   
Not so -  
There is one major (in my mind) quality missing.  These ethereal looking creatures are lacking the spiritual quality of the perfume with which the creator used to endow roses.  The flowers in the display featured above are devoid of the ethereal essence of aromatic rose perfume. So many of our favorite flowers have been engineered into mere images  of their natural selves.
Oh, by the way, along similar lines, have you noticed that we now have Artificial Intelligence?  We always had it, but it was posing as some strange human.  Now though, it is out there bragging about itself when all it can do is to open and close.  Now, that is intelligence?  
Stay tuned.

NOW, I'M FAMOUS - FOR REAL AND FOR GOOD

I know Denis :-)!

It has been a long time since I have put some thoughts down in this space. It isn't for lack of thoughts.  It is more due to the lack of "fire in the belly" as the saying goes. There is also another half reason:  My hands are not as nimble as they used to be.  It takes me significantly more time to scribble 450 words as it used to. Besides the lack of digital agility there is also the reality of creeping digital numbness.  Be all of the above as they may, I find it imperative to send out the news that I have further reasons to brag about being famous.  I am now the elder brother of a published author.  (See the picture of the cover above.) Before we know it we will all be related to a person on the New York Times best seller list.  Now, that is more than what I can aspire to.  You don't make it on to the NYT B-S list when you end sentences with a preposition.
My first claim to fame was when I shared the same shower room with the mayor of Holyoke, Mass.  I played handball at the YMCA on a regular schedule.  I would have never known it except that my handball rival of the moment pointed him out to me.  I have to admit that I was touched with the hand of fame over that simple, raw encounter.
I had to wait for many more years before my claim to fame sparked back into prominence.  It was a rainy, raw Christmas Day in the Holy City of Rome.  I and two other colleagues, seminarians all, had decided to spend some time at the childrens' hospital.  As we were walking down a wide hallway from one section to another we encountered Pope John XXIII and two of his "buddies" coming toward us.  We smiled, shook hands and joked a bit. I was mostly silent since my Italian was only 3 months old at the time.  But hey, It was the first time that I had ever shaken the pope's hand. I remember that very clearly even though we were all modestly clothed.
Three years later, the future Saint John XXIII spent a day at the university where I was a student.  I met him again, face to face in the courtyard.  We shook hands, exchanged a few pleasantries (now I spoke Italian) and parted friends.  So, now I am doubly famous and I haven't washed my right hand in years.
I can't wait for next week's NYT!

GOOD OLD DAYS? HMMM???

Buckle up, this is gonna be fun.
Email from a friend/email relationship:

Cultural diversity has made it so we can't even safely go to the mall anymore. Not culture in a race sense; culture as in the shared rules and values of a group. It used to be that society had a set of rule and standards that we expected all people to live by, a culture; in our quest to make all people feel accepted, we lowered our standards and expectations to what we have in place now.  By lowering our standards, we’ve enabled people to act and live their lives in a way that would have made them outcast years ago. There are now two distinctly different groups of people in this country; the people that live by the laws, know right from wrong, attempt to do what is right and be self sufficient and the others. This is not a race, religion or political party issue, it’s a cultural issue. We’ve lowered our standards to make the culture fit the people rather than make the people fit the culture. We’ve made it acceptable to have babies out of wedlock and live for generations on welfare. We’ve made it acceptable to use language in public that would have gotten my my mouth slapped as a child. We’ve made it acceptable for teens to drink and use drugs. We’ve made it acceptable to have thousands of dollars worth of tattoos, smoke and drink away hundreds of dollars a month, have a $100 manicure, carry a $500 purse and expect the government to pay for food and healthcare. We’ve lowered our definition of what it means to be a “decent American” in the name of cultural diversity.

I immediately respond:

Hey, talk about ESP.  Belle and I we're returning home from a short mission gathering in Moreno Valley.  We had talked about the same thing that you mention in your note today.  It used to be that the core of our culture was "fair play."  The soul of the rules and regulations was the non-negotiable conscience of trust in the people with whom we lived and helped and competed.  That core cultural virtue has been eroded considerably since I was young.  As a society we seem to be living according to the attitude that I do what I can get away with, no matter what the consequences to you are.  All that matters is that I win and you lose, no matter what.

What you fail to mention is the pain and the disdain that the super rich inflict on the country.  The gutting of the country's income by favoring the ultra rich with tax cuts that over burden the hard working "middle class."  The organized, legal bribery system that allows our law makers to take millions upon millions by special interests lobbyists who buy favor for the rich at the pain of the rest.

This system of "government" makes a total mockery of our elections.  No wonder those on the bottom rungs have no shame...they are but imitating the shameless cannibals at the top.

Being who we are, we can compare our present situation with the one that is described in the Gospels.  The Torah had been used and abused for so long and by so many that the Pharisees, the strict fundamentalists were warping the Law as  much as the slackers.  Jesus came along and threw fuel on the fire by injecting the common sense of Love into the mix.  This infuriated the Hard Right as well as the Hard Left and it caused havoc in the culture.  

Jesus was not the first culture "tweeker" between Moses and Jesus.  Think of the prophets; think of David; think of John the Baptist.

Culture is not the synonym of behavior.  It is the soul of behavior.  The culture of the USA is indeed different now than it was 100 years ago.  It is different now than it was 50 years ago.  Think of the way the Transcontinental Railroad was built.  If you don't have a clear idea about it, consider that it is not something about which we are not particularly proud, so we don't glorify it.  It surely is overshadowed by the way the Interstate Highways were put into place.  Oh, I almost forgot NASA.  

While I'm at it, our soul gave us the Marshall Plan, the Peace Corps, the reconstruction of Western Europe and of Japan, not to mention South Korea and VietNam.

Our culture was never based on an external symbol.  It was based on an "all for one, one for all" fair play conscience.  We don't have a Temple; We don't have an Emperor.  We have one another.  We live and let live in the attitude that good fences make good neighbors.

The neighbors are so good that they protect one another in time of need.  No questions asked.  No excuses needed.

That, John, is what is significantly eroded.  As I have stated before, this erosion, if it continues at this pace, will spell the end of this republic within the next 75 years.  I say that because no nation can live without a moral soul.

The miracle of the Jews is that they remain faithful to God.  Catholicism is on track to stay alive.  But, the 10,000 years of Judaism far overshadows Catholicism/Christianity.  These Spiritual realities continue in God's presence.  Nations are born and die from age to age, era to era.  

On a lighter note (??) Maybe it's time for a Sodom and Gomorrah repeat?

I go to bed and I start reviewing my "good old days."

- My paternal grandmother is a widow

- My maternal grandfather has one hand - the non-dominant left

- My father never knew a day without crushing back pain

- My father's 25 year old sister dies from a bungling doctor's incompetence while      her husband is in Europe struggling through WWII.

- Dad overruled Mom and let me accompany him to the funeral home (I was 5)

- Dad's youngest sister marries a divorced drunkard with whom she has 5 children

  before he dies and is refused a Catholic funeral because he is a public sinner.  My    aunt was his 2 or 3 wife.

- This aunt never found time to work and counted on all kinds of aid to get by

- My first job was washing floors for old people on Saturday mornings (I was 12)

- I went to school at 5 years and 9 months.  I knew very little English.

- The school was a parrochial school, French language in the Morning, English PM

- Every national community had a specific church; French, Polish, Italian, Irish...

- If a store didn't hire French speakers, we would not patronize it ... except the           little market on the corner owned and operated by a polish family.

- My mother used to say, "shit", "damn", and "hell", but never said a bad word in      French.  English was for swearing, French was for prayer and civility.

- I had a cousin who was a drunk.  He had a sister who was a floozie.

- I only carried nespapers as a favor to a friend  for about 1 month when he went       to Canada once time. There was one house where the lady would always pay me     with her bosoms very daringly exposed.  

- There was also one customer who couldn't stand French kids who would let his       dog loose.  Yeah, I got bit.  My father ripped this guy in English.

- My father who was a high authority at a manufacturing company hired a very             competent African American.  The senior partner of the company told my                father that the African American had to leave - like NOW - or else.  My father          was emotional when he told me the story.

- In the 50's when there was a tsunami of Puerto Ricans coming into our corner of     Massachusetts, I lived a first degree witness of raw, vicious hatred out of                 discrimination against the Puerto Ricans, even by Catholics who, in their own         right, could hardly speak English.  I worked with some of them and took the             opportunity to learn my first words of Spanish.

I never smoked, but I did swear a lot, in two languages, did some co-ed skinny dippin', drove dad's car to some God awful places, set fire to one of the minor dumping grounds in our town, cut some clothes lines on "Cabbage Night", and that was all before I started doing adult things!

Yep, the "Good Ol' Days!"  I have more.  After all, I'm just in the mid 50's here.  You don't want me to bore you with the 60's and 70's and 80's, I am sure.  

My closing remark will simply be to remind you all that a very wise person once said "The more things change, the more they stay the same."

After more than 1,450 words, I don't have to remind you to remember that there is to be "No Crying at my Funeral."

MITSUBISHI FIGHTER PLANE, FOR REAL!

Paul and Belle
2018

See that aircraft in the background?  It took me all this time before I actually saw one with my own two eyes.  I mean, a real one.
The impact of this experience was more than I could have predicted.  I was actually shivering from emotion to see such a reality.  I recognized it immediately not only by the Rising Sun but also by the umistakeable shape that I had learned very well from building the "stick and paper" model of it when I was but a little boy.
The Voice from the Kitchen was with me that day so that made it special.  I knew that she had seen many of these in the skies of her homeland.  She does not remember them with the same intensity that I do, and that no doubt seems strange.  Don't let it get to you, after all, she is sooo much younger than I.  That and the fact that she did not have the same cultural experience of the action that we did here in the USA.  That is a whole "nuther" story.

This is a refurbished, salvaged, real survivor of the Second World War, Pacific Theatre.  ONE of only TWO that remain flying.  (reference) This fighter plane was the bane of the fighter pilots in their P-47 Thunderbolts, Corsairs and others whose names I can't remember.  This fighter far outperformed anything that the US arsenal encountered in Europe.  We children were in awe of this machine and that is why its hobbyist "flying models" were in such high demand.  The kits of rubber band powered models were available at $0.10, $0.25, $0.50 and $1.00 sizes.  Our family economic status dictated the $0.25 size.

The history of this machine is very interesting.  At the height of their success, the Japanese had 11,000 of them.  As it happened, it wasn't enough.  USA intelligence found a performance weakness in the plane and adopted a dog-fight strategy (turn left and dive) that doomed the survival chances of the Zero. 

I am glad that I saw one of the survivors in the air before my "Turn left and dive" moment.

EMPLOYEE vs INDEPENDENT CONTRACTOR

Not one or the other – both

For most of my life have been an employee while at the same time taking advantage of other talents that I have and offering them to those who would hire me.  I made a conscious effort to never work for a unionized company, so I never had to contend with that financial burden.  I have been careful to never operate in the gray area of the federal IRS guidelines defining employees and contractors.  I may be a fairly rare specimen who has had two distinct careers, so here is how I did it.

1.       1. I am a holder of a master’s degree in Theology.  I have been engaged by churches for           varying amounts of times and for specific deliverables.

2.      2.  I am fluent in four languages so I am always available for translating/editing projects.

3.           I offer my education and my life experience to a travel company and organize                       pilgrimages.

4.      3.   For years I maintained a relationship with a multi-level marketing organization.

   4.    Twice in my career I did work for a former employer as a contractor.  This happened when I left my job to follow my spouse to another city far beyond commuting distance.  This was possible because I was talented enough to carry some projects with me and deliver the results according to set deadlines.

For the last twenty years I have not been a full-time employee.  For the last 15 years I have not been a direct employee at all.  I take advantage of my social security benefits, including Medicare and I continue to make my personal talents and abilities available to those who want them.

Being a pure independent contractor can be lucrative for those who have the ability and talents but I personally want to caution the reader to be sure to consult professional people who can inform and teach the aspiring contractor concerning the intricacies of law and practice.  The legal framework around employment is complex.  The ability to “be on your own” is not given to all who would be attracted to it.  One of the reasons why I split my energies is the attraction of funding my social security/Medicare account, the insurance coverage offered by employers (Life, health, workers compensation, steady work schedule, etc.) and the national and international networking opportunities that come from working for a large, successful enterprise.  The split endeavors that I practiced served as training for the day (now) when I would not be an employee but could continue working and earning.

Oh, I almost forgot.  No, not really.  I was keeping it for last. Taxes, remember them?  This is one of the areas that require study and constant attention if the independent contractor wants to take advantage of the tax code of the USA.  This is the point of this post.  

The independent contractor who is not a direct employee at the same time may have income tax advantages but these advantages can be wiped out by other aspects of the tax structures present in every American’s life.  Don’t forget the taxes that are required but are not necessarily refered to as "taxes, i.e. social security, Medicare, IRS, State income tax, higher automobile insurance rates, etc.  It is possible to lessen the tax burden if while being a contractor there is a direct employer carrying the basic, if not full tax burden that every employed adult incurs.

Being independent can be nice.  I enjoin you to educate yourself about the regulatory world into which you will be plunged if you become “independent.”  I pray that you will be successful and I remind you not to cry at my funeral.

DEMAGOGUE ON THE LOOSE

In August of 2016 I wrote this piece in order to share the vision of the immoral reality that is Donald Trump.  

QUID EST VERITAS?

Russian proverb:  "It is better to be slapped by the truth than to be kissed by a lie."

The two year old boy on his grand father's lap has already been told that it is not OK to lie.  He hasn't yet had to suffer the consequences that visit people who do lie.  Later on, in not too many years he will come to know what happens to those who lie and get caught in the falsehood that they proclaimed.  He has grown to be the 82 year old author of these simple lies and is telling you now, that Camay bath soap sure tastes BAD.  As I write this, the sensation of the Camay memory is actually bringing goose bumps to the nape of my neck.  It was my mother's favorite punishment against lying and swearing.
That should have been bad enough, but being the stiff necked, proud, I'm "smarter than you are" kid, I can still feel the pain of a well planted right hook from the kid down the street who caught me lying to him once.  I also remember the edict from my father that I had to submit one half of the money that I might receive at Christmas to the offering basket at Church one year when he caught me lying.
Now, here's why I am telling you this.  There is a high placed political operative by the name of Michael Flynn who lied to the FBI, who is now in court over the facts (the true facts) and his defense is, "The FBI didn't warn me not to lie."
What?  Have you ever heard such a heap of stercus taurorum in your life?  Does a successful(?) 60+ year old man have to be warned not to lie?  Can such a person be so naive and daring as to try to defend himself by blaming the FBI for not warning him that lying can bring on much greater punishment?  Sheeesh!
As it turns out, he is not the only one who downplays the value of the truth.  The president of the country and his flacks are all afraid of falling into "perjury traps."  What?  How can you perjure yourself if you tell the truth?  If you don't want to tell the truth because it would incriminate you, plead the 5th to protect yourself.
Frankly, it is shiveringly disgusting to hear such immoral expressions taking root in our society.  Jesus had to put up with the distortion of the truth, so we are not experiencing anything new.  All we are left with is the famous question, "Quid est veritas - what is truth?"
Finally, if you don't agree with me, just Don't Cry at My Funeral

WALL AGAIN...BAD IDEA

Two Palestinian women on the street walking past the painted image of Donald Trump on the separation wall between Jerusalem and Bethlehem.

The following is a comment about the linked video:

https://www.facebook.com/prageru/videos/2078089425567236/

I did pass some time with Mr. Krauthammer who appears in the video behind the above highlighted link.  It turns out that it is 6 minutes of self indictment to the incompetence and the crass venality of the US government.  He admits that a wall in and of itself is not sufficient to "protect" the country from illegal "immigration."  The illegal immigration reality in the world is not a "problem" that can be solved mechanically.  The only solution lies in the resolve of the people on the one side to assure that the people on the other side will not find safe haven.  Walls do not work because of the lack of human resolve on the one side.  The only true wall is the internal conviction on the one side that the people on the other side should not have access.  Walls without human conviction on the one side enforcing their reason for being are useless.  Krauthammer makes this point very clearly.  He mentions visa "over-stays" which account for 40% of illegal residents present here.  He mentions the Simpson-Mazzoli Act of 1986.  It failed because of one, and only one reason: The lack of enforcement by a venal government owned and lobbied by voracious employers seeking cheap labor.  The self-same government that had passed the law in the first place.  I know.  I lived through it during the height of my Human Resources career.

He does not mention the most common-sense weakness of any wall: The gates.  Intruders do not have to foil the forbidding surface of the wall...all they have to do is to befriend (or reward) or outwit the gatekeeper.  The reason why walls do not work is the human element.  Walls with, or without, draconian Laws, and yes, even with armed military and technological support to enforce the physical barrier, do not work.  Human ingenuity will always win.

I could name the number of "insurmountable" walls I have lived with and/or visited in my short life.  Even the Israel/Palestinian barrier.  I am here to tell you that most of them (95%) have become tourist attractions.  [Jerusalem (old and new), Rome, Vatican City, Carcassonne, Paris, Jericho, Manila]  The one that most people praise the most, the Israel/Palestinian Authority one, is not impervious for the reason stated above, the human factor.  I have witnessed it first hand.  Plus, the intrepid souls can walk until they find the end, in the desert...just like here.

Finally, pay attention to the presentation and you will note that it never promises 100% impermeability.  Neither Krauthammer nor Trump can do that...the indomitable human spirit will win and the artifact will become a tourist attraction.

On the personal side, I have to admit that I shake my head in wonder that the trammel of history doesn't seem to mean anything to those who keep running back to solutions that have failed.  Walls, in my view, are nothing but glowing confessions that humans have not matured to the point of discovering how to get along with one another.  Walls,in my view are an extension of the opinion of my namesake, "The Law brings Death,  the Spirit brings Life. (2 Cor. 3;6)" I suppose that we have not yet attained the last chapter of John's masterpiece, we will always need Law until...

  20  The one who gives this testimony says, “Yes, I am coming soon.” Amen! Come, Lord Jesus! 21 The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all.  Amen  (Revelation, chapter 22)