THE DAY THE GROUND SHOOK

THE DAY THE GROUND SHOOK

It was late afternoon on the 29^th of May 2011 when the earth actually shook. Though the tremor with its epicenter in Columbus, Ohio might not have quite registered on the Richter scale, the ground on that day actually shuddered for a moment and that has had devastating effects. Before detailing the actual episode and its consequences, it is important for you to know the events leading up to and following this seismic event.

It was one of the most beautiful Spring days. The kind of day that young couples pray that they will be able to enjoy on the day when they pledge their undying love to one another... for all eternity. The air was fresh, filled with the scent of flowers in bloom. Yes, this was a perfect day for a wedding.

The bridal party and their designated photographer had migrated from the church to a nearby park for additional photo opportunities of the happy couple and their entourage. This was truly a “picture perfect” day. The cars belonging to the bridal party were parked and the grand march began... parading the beautiful couple to an appropriate spot amongst the flowers and the trees. Many park visitors would stop ...and with rediscovered smiles watch the wedding party parade past them.

The march of the wedding party was led by the pied-piper photographer, followed closely by the groom who was grinning from ear to ear and his blushing bride who struggled to keep her snow white dress from being stained of the grass. Every now and then, the photographer would stop short, turn quickly around and attempt to digitally capture a spontaneous moment with the newly-weds or other individuals in the wedding party.

Whenever the parade discovered what was agreed to be a good photo location, several dozen photos were snapped and then the parade would moved forward again, looking for the next perfect site. After several of these march-stop-pose-march episodes the wedding party finally reached an area with a large expanse of concrete with a huge stainless steel sculpture in the center. This modernistic sculpture was supposed to represent the sails of the three ships of Christopher Columbus. This particular site was used in a photo shoot of another wedding party so the photographer was fairly familiar with the “lay of the land” as well as the photo possibilities with this site.

The first dozen camera clicks at this site were fairly uneventful, other than the fact that the photographer had difficulty framing shots without including other park visitors in the background. Since it was such a beautiful Spring day, the park had an inordinate number of visitors that day and many of them wanted to get a closer look at our radiant couple. So, the photographer with his face pressed against the camera and his right eye glued on the eyepiece began the now infamous “Dance of the Photographer” to get just the right shot properly framed. This particular dance might be defined as a cross between a slow-moving waltz and a fast-paced tango. Forward one step, backward two steps, then slide once to the right, then slide twice to the left ...and after that... start the process again. After several runs through this dance routine without managing to properly frame the photo, that the photographer decided to extemporaneously modify the designated dance steps. Instead of one step backward..., the dance was suddenly changed to three steps backward ...and it was at that precise moment in time when the spirits of the great Arthur Murray and Jimmy Rawlins were heard to be shouting from their graves, “Careful... Cuidado... Watch out!”. Taking that third step backward found the heel of the photographer’s shoe against the bottom of one of Christopher’s sails and so the slow-motion backward descent of the photographer began.

Most photographers will instinctively protect their cameras and photographic equipment in case of a fall. Though that did enter into this photographer’s calculation, a more important factor took precedence. If you are aware of the pain associated with a torn rotator cuff, you will understand why the photographer knew that he needed to avoid falling in such a way as to further injure his right shoulder. Amazingly, the photographer managed to perform one of those twist you see in the high dive competitions at the Olympics. Success! He landed it! Body had fully twisted mid air to the left side... but unfortunately that was the photographer's good side due to the excruciating pain in the other shoulder.

The reader should know that this photographer is a fairly large man and so when he fell backward and even though he was able to perform the amazing acrobatic twisting feat before he landed, the sudden impact was still strongly felt by both man ...and earth. The ground shook and shook again. One might have easily feared that the resulting shaking of the earth would cause the giant stainless steel sculpture to fall and crush the fallen photographer as well as a multitude of park visitors that afternoon.

From his vantage point on the ground, the photographer could see the shocked look on the young bride's face... even though she had covered most of it with her hands. Then and there the guy flat on his back decided that he was not going to let something like this ruin an otherwise perfect wedding day. Though the pain in the left arm from wrist to shoulder was quite intense, the photographer heard a motherly voice calmly stating, “No blood... you will be fine.” So after a quick check to make sure that no ragged bone fragments were protruding from his skin, the man with the cameras decided to minimize the whole event. At first he attempted to quickly get back on his feet but found that he could not brace himself with either the left or the right arm. Almost instantaneously, a half dozen macho men from the bridal party lurched forward promising to assist the photographer to his feet. Now which arm to offer? The left was in excruciating pain so did not want to further injure that one ...and if he offered his right arm to them they might inadvertently pull the painful right shoulder out of its socket. Neither choice was acceptable so the downed photographer insisted that he could manage on his own. With a prayer on his lips and while biting his tongue, his adrenalin kicked in and the photographer's new-found strength helped him to get back on his feet.

So, the camera man brushed himself off, noting that everything was fine and then he struggled to take a few more shots at that site. He knew though that he would need to quickly move to a new site so that he would have more time to shake off the pain and better compose himself. The party moved a couple dozen yards and the photographer managed to squeeze off a few more shots. A few more locations and scores of snapshots later and then it was announced that it was time for everyone to get back in the cars and head to the reception. The photographer was truly grateful for the time it took to return to the cars and drive to the reception hall which is located on the other end of the city.

As the wedding celebration progressed into the evening, each shot of the camera became a little more painful. Most of the camera work was done using the right arm and even though it was somewhat painful... it was nothing compared to the pain in the other arm. Consequently, the left arm was left to just hang to its side unless the zoom lens needed to be adjusted. When the camera man could no longer adjust the zoom with his left hand, he knew that something was seriously wrong. After the cake-cutting, the bouquet tossing and all of the other wedding reception rituals were completed and photographed the camera man quietly packed up his equipment and exited the reception hall without even saying goodbyes to the wedding party. The dancing would continue for several more hours but the photographer knew that he would not be able to enjoy it or take too many more photos.

In the parking lot, the wedding photographer found himself struggling to lift his camera bag into the car trunk. He knew the time had come when he would need to have a doctor look at the arm. Once the gear was safely stowed, he managed to drive to the hospital emergency room. Upon entering the ER he was pleased to find only a half-dozen people in the waiting room. He had feared that it might have been a 3 – 4 hour wait. In short order, the wedding photographer went from triage to x-ray and then to a bed behind a pulled curtain, waiting for a doctor to make the official pronouncement. As anticipated, the doctor advised that indeed a bone in the elbow was broken and most likely some tendons on the left arm were also torn. The arm would need to be splinted and placed in a sling. Thankfully, pain medication was administered and later prescribed. A favorite long sleeved dress shirt, as well as an undershirt, had to be cut with scissors to apply the splint. After that, the tired and sore photographer managed to drive himself home with left arm hanging out the window. Since the shirts had already been cut away it was not a huge problem undressing since gravity took care of the slacks and socks were removed by placing heel of one over toe of other and then pulling put out of sock. Within minutes, not only was he undressed but he was also sound asleep in his own bed. As he drifted off to sleep, he murmured, “Tomorrow is definitely going to be a better day.

A Photobook of godson Carlos' First Holy Communion

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A Photobook of goddaughter Patricia's First Holy Communion

Click here to view this photo book larger

Old Fashioned vs New Fashioned Oatmeal

Old Fashioned vs. New Fashioned Oatmeal

New and Improved Oatmeal

One of the early morning rituals performed religiously in our home every day entails dad and oldest son breaking the fast with a bowl of steaming-hot oatmeal. This is a cherished time for father and son to build a bond through a common act of sharing the same food. (One has to hold onto all possible bonding moments with their children, regardless how minor and insignificant those moments might seem). Dad cooks the cereal and then father and son enjoy this meal together while the rest of the family continue their slumber.

Lest you be led to deduce that each morning father and son engage in some sort of sparkling breakfast conversation, let me paint the real "Norman Rockwell moment" for you. As tradition goes, our oldest son takes the sports page each morning and stares at pictures of baseball players, obviously dreaming of the next time he will get to attend a game. Meanwhile, Dad tries to focus his eyes on the rest of the paper. Though words are rarely spoken between the two, a bond between father and son develops.

It would be an understatement to say that our oldest son is pretty finicky over his breakfast of choice. Ninety percent or more of the mornings he just wants regular old-fashioned hot oatmeal. He is fairly emphatic that he does not want any substitutions. So, do not bother trying to tempt him with a bowl of hot “Cream of Wheat”, or “Cream of Rice”,... or Malt-O-Meal, or even cornmeal mush. And do not attempt to substitute Quick Oats or even microwaveable instant oatmeal... Number 1 Son just wants good ole old-fashioned oatmeal. There must be something about the particular texture of old fashioned oatmeal in his mouth because he even disapproves of cooked steel-cut oats. Since it is not like he is asking for some high-priced cereal, soaked in sugar... his request is usually granted as long as we have oats in the pantry. For this reason, we have to make a conscientious effort to assure that there is always a sufficient supply of Old Fashioned Oatmeal.

" Plain and simple " oatmeal.

Additionally, it should be noted that our oldest son always wants his oatmeal “plain and simple” (i.e. unadulterated). It is what we commonly refer to as, “the vanilla approach”. Nothing creative ...and please,... nothing out of the usual. No raisins, no jams, no bananas,  no honey, no cinnamon. Nothing. Not on “his” oatmeal. Though this son has been repeatedly tempted with offers of adding something like raisins or cranberries to his breakfast cereal-of-choice, he has consistently and strongly declined such offers of "doctoring up" his morning tradition. He does not want any additives ...except (maybe) a splash of milk and a teaspoon of brown sugar. For years he did not even want the brown sugar. If truth be told, it was only after his father discontinued putting brown sugar on top of his own cereal did the son decide it was time to give it a try.

A few times a year, as our son is giving his nightly ration of a kiss to his Mom and Dad and saying “Goodnight”, he will quietly advise me, “Tomorrow... regular cereal”. This temporary change in his preference for cereal-of-choice usually indicates that sometime earlier that day he had spied a new variety of store bought cereal being placed in the cupboard. He will then usually eat a bowl of that cold cereal each day until the supply is exhausted. Only then will he again approach me and in the same manner will advise me, “Tomorrow … oatmeal”. Obviously, our oldest son is a man of few words.

One would think that after making countless pans of oatmeal over the years that the process would become second nature ...but invariably the resulting product sometimes resembles more of a gruel than what oatmeal was designed to be. Maybe there is an art to making the perfect oatmeal but a more scientific approach seems to be warranted after concocting something of a glue-like mess. It was discovered that one must first of all be precise in the cooking times of old fashioned oatmeal. For exactness, one should even use a timer.  There is a timer on our under-the-cupboard / over-the-stove microwave but on the morning in question this particular timekeeper seemed to be "on the blink". 

Experience has shown that the best way to solve the microwave-clock-on-the-blink syndrome is a good ole reboot of the microwave's computer. Experience has also taught that when this is necessary the best thing to do is to unplug the microwave cord from the electrical outlet, then wait five seconds and plug it in again. Unfortunately, the outlet is in the cupboard above the stove.  One might think that this location would be convenient for such purposes but nothing could be further from the truth.

Among other things notable about that particular cupboard is that it is also the repository for all of the baking and cake decorating supplies. To get to that particular electrical outlet in that cupboard, one must reach over an assortment of spices, food colorings, flavorings and extracts.This could be considered quite a feat while one stands on their toes and tries to feel the end of the cord before pulling it out for the reboot.


Imagine reaching over all of those jars of spices and bottles of flavoring and extracts in a made-for-winter long-sleeved bathrobe. Maybe it was the steam rising from the pan and enveloping my outstretched arm that made me react in haste. It was (obviously) destiny that the sleeve of the bathrobe ended up catching the top of one of the bottles reserved for baking purposes and pulled it out towards the edge of the cupboard ...and after a brief second of teetering on the edge, the bottled tumbled end-over-end into the bubbling vat of boiling oatmeal. Instinct took over and had me trying to extract that small bottle from the boiling mass by grabbing the top of the bottle.  Mistake! The immortal words of my own father escaped my lips at that exact moment. "Ayyy ....Chihuahua!" (Never understood why he screamed out the name of that particular state in Mexico in moments like that). Anyway, after a few moments of rehearsing several new dance steps with one hand wildly waving in the air, composure was restored enough to frantically fish the bottle from the gooey mess now splattered all over the kitchen.

The retrieved treasure turned out to be a bottle of Pure Almond Extract.  The bottle was covered with oatmeal residue and once again instinct took over and this time dictated that the bottle must be cleaned with the right index finger.  In an instant, without any thought whatsoever, the oatmeal-covered finger was inserted into the mouth. Hmm...., Mmmmm... interesting!  Very interesting. Just a "hint" of almond was sensed in that oatmeal which had previously be clinging to the side of that bottle. Temptation overtook any rational sense and so a measure of almond extract was mixed into the oatmeal remaining in the pan on the stove.  Nervously a spoon was dipped into the mixture and then pressed to the lips.  Eureka! I found it! Not only did the concoction not taste bad ...it actually enhanced the taste of the oatmeal. 

It has been said that some of the greatest discoveries and inventions are unintentionally stumbled upon. Now wondering if this could possibly be one of the greatest culinary discoveries of all time. Or maybe this historical accident might even surpass that time when the guy's chocolate bar fell into that girl's jar of peanut butter.  Who knows?  Maybe this series of events was Providential.  Maybe "He" wanted this to happen (for me).

Besides the bottle of almond extract in that cupboard, there were extracts of vanilla, orange, lemon, and peppermint. Why couldn't it have easily been one of them? That question got the whole thought process going.... What if one or more of these other extracts might be as good, if not better, than the almond? Maybe this was only supposed to be the beginning. Of course, this now meant considerable scientific research would be required.  

What about all of the other extracts such as; lemon, pineapple, mint and anise?  They too would have to be considered ...even though none of these were readily available to sample this morning. Wait! In the back of the cupboard there is an outdated bottle of maple flavoring. That would have to be a good mix for oatmeal since we already have seen packaged instant oatmeal with maple flavoring in the stores and, of course, some of us may have heard of Maypo (maple-flavored oatmeal). Hmmmm.... I wonder ... if they call that combination "Maypo" should I call this Almoat? Nah... that just not trip off the tongue as nicely as "Maypo". Might as well stick to "New and Improved Old Fashioned Oatmeal, Now With a Hint of Almond". But the question now becomes, "has some equally clever person already marketed oatmeal with almond flavoring?" Though oatmeal has been seen on several restaurant menus with almond slivers garnishing the top, none has been encountered thus far with just almond flavoring. Brief research into the crevasses of that memory chip implanted deep within my skull could not find evidence that anyone in history has ever tried to enhance the flavor of oatmeal with just the essence of almond.

With a "Hint " of Almonds

If cinnamon “works” on oatmeal ...and cinnamon is a spice, I wonder what other spice might be used to “spice up” this oatmeal. Let’s see… Allspice (…Don’t think so!), Alum (…Definitely Not!), Anise Seed (…Maybe), Apple Pie Spice (…Hmmmm… Possibilities!), Pumpkin Pie Spice (…Mmmmmm …More possibilities!). This analysis continued through the bulk of the spices while the oatmeal was cooling. Some experiments actually got the "wet finger" taste test, others were eliminated through a quick “sniff test”. What else is hiding in this cupboard... waiting to be discovered?

Wait! Here is some honey.  Lots of folks put honey on their oatmeal.  What else...? Hey, why not blueberry syrup ...or better yet... boysenberry syrup! Wasn't there some of that in the fridge?  Wait... no boysenberry syrup... but lo... there is a jar of boysenberry jam. That might do just fine! The possibilities for oatmeal enhancements are simply mind-boggling.  

Isn't it truly amazing how the mind of an inventor or innovator really works? Though this venturing into the mind of an inventor might seem a little scary... you are probably really thinking, "Why hasn't someone thought of this before?"  Sheer genius! 

How boring daily life would be if we did not "wonder" what something might be like without a dash of this, a splash of that ...or a smidgen of something else. The possibilities are endless and yet ...these two parents are blessed with  a son who wants nothing more than to stick with the "plain and simple" unadulterated oatmeal. Most parents would probably want to clone our oldest son.

Anyone observing this scene of taste-testing the various extracts, flavors, essences, spices and other ingredients might come to believe that they were watching some Mad Scientist in his lab... cooking up an “experiment”. In reality, he is not really mad... just adventurous! This sense of adventure had to be directly inherited from my father. A little known secret to the outside world is that my father was a fabulous chef ….99.9% of the time. The reason for that kind of success is that he was never afraid to take risks. After all, he had a dozen guinea pigs on which to try his “experiments”. Eleven children and a wife who knew not to complain since our chef happened to know enough chemistry to keep us out of trouble… (except once… but that is food for another story). It must be true what they say about “Like Father, Like Son”. Did the correct gene get passed to know what one can “get away with” in food experimentation? In this day and age, there is probably a prohibition against experimenting with human subjects especially family members. Though Ruby the Wonder Dog and Callie (aka Calita the Fajita (translation = "fat-rat-cat")) wouldn’t mind eating *anything* that is put in their dish or dropped on the floor, the ASPCA and PETA might have something to say about exposing these animals to such potential dangers.

As long as there is this sense of adventure in one's culinary experimentation, then maybe it might be a good idea to keep a bottle of Ipecac syrup …and the phone number for the Poison Control Center ...on the inside of that cupboard above the stove ...as well as prominently placed in several other places next to the stove.

The latest discovery of this new and improved oatmeal with a "hint" of almond and all of this subsequent experimentation would be for naught if the creation is not at least accepted by the son with the finicky taste-buds.  So, the pressing question of the morning is... would our son turn up his nose to this wonderful new invention of oatmeal mixed with almond extract?  As the bowl was placed in front of him you could have heard a pin drop since my breath was being held.  Slowly, the victim (err... our son) inserts his spoon into the mixture and raises it ever oh-so-slowly to his mouth.  In a flash, his mouth closes around the spoon and his eyes grew wide in amazement. What happened next was truly a rare event.   Faster than you can say "Jack Robinson",  our son breaks into a silly grin as he consumes the rest of his breakfast.  Success!  He likes it ... He actually likes it! At long last, a little more variety and a little more spice has been added to all of our lives.

Who Ushered the Snakes out of Ireland?

Surely He Ushered the Snakes out of Ireland...  

It was hours before dawn when our Chocolate Lab pup became insistent about her "need to heed" the call of nature. The exact hour of this awakening is what the military refers to as “zero-dark-thirty”. There is no reasoning or arguing with man's best friend at that hour of the morning when one is confronted with a cold wet nose persistently interrupting your dreams. A cell phone is grabbed from the night stand, not for making calls or sending text messages... but to light the path through the pitch-black bedroom to prevent toes from being stubbed. Stubbing any of your toes at that hour would surely start your day “on the wrong foot”. One must move swiftly and surefooted through the dark... because the puppy has to “go”.

The bedroom door is swung open and the faithful companion hurriedly leads the way down the stairs through the dining room and the kitchen. The Promised Land (for dogs) lies just beyond the kitchen door. Rushing towards the back door which was soon to become the portal to relief, we both caught a glimpse of the family cat sitting in the kitchen, staring intently at the space between the refrigerator and the wall.  We have seen this posture before. More than likely our cat was  stalking a mouse. One could assume that the calico was looking to have a little fun with a mouse before breakfast, though it had been months since there had been evidence of any such critters in this hundred-year-old house. That critter-free phenomenon could probably be attributed to having an accomplished mouser in the house.  No time right now to stop and investigate what the cat is presently staring down... must first assure that my dog makes it to her Promised Land.

Standing outside on that brisk March morning here in the Midwest, one was quickly reminded of the fact that slippers were not donned before rushing outside. Body weight shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another ...impatiently waiting for the puppy to finish her business so we could head back to the warm confines of my bedroom. It was one of those frosty March mornings when you could see the dog’s breath steaming from her nostrils. Standing in the back yard, drinking in the light of the seldom-seen stars, it dawned on me that today we were to celebrate the Great Feast of St. Patrick with a party in our home.

Soon the house would be filled with the aroma of cabbage and corned beef in preparation for the annual dinner we share with family and friends. Barefoot and clad only in my dark green bathrobe seemed somewhat fitting, yet amusing, on this auspicious day.

As the dog played "ring around the rosy" widening the path encircling the ginkgo in the backyard, thoughts of yesterday's wonderful fishing trip came to mind. Even though the calendar had not yet proclaimed the beginning of Spring, it was decided that it was indeed the perfect time for a fishing trip. So confident that this was going to be “the” day to fill the freezer with fish, two dozen night crawlers were purchased before heading to what was thought to be a promising fishing hole.  Those worms looked so fat and juicy... one wonders if any fish on the earth could resist.  

Yesterday turned out to be perfect in every way for fishing .. but not for catching.  Of those two dozen crawlers, twenty-one (21) beautiful worms managed to escape from becoming lunch for bluegills, crappies, bass... or anything. Only three of these wriggling creatures ended their lives drowning while seated on a hook and suffering multiple cases of whiplash as they were repeatedly flung across different bodies of water. All in all, the day could be considered a success because it was a wonderful  opportunity to commune with God and His creation.

Among the great mysteries of the world being pondered yesterday while waiting for the first nibble of a worm was whether or not St. Patrick knew anything about fishing. We *do* know that  St. Patrick used the shamrock to explain the Most Holy Trinity in converting the heathens of that country to Christianity. Additionally, we have also heard stories how the saint drove the snakes out of the Emerald Isle ...but the more rational among us know that the theme of Patrick driving the snakes off the island probably just symbolizes the act of the saint forcing the devil and his legions out of the country. Or... could it really be true?  Could good ole Ireland really have been plagued with snakes and all other kinds of vipers before Patrick landed on the scene?

It was images of those legendary snakes that came to mind while walking up the steep trail from the isolated fishing lake back to the vehicle.  Climbing one of the highest hills in Southern Ohio, my eyes continually surveyed the trail ahead for evidence of any snakes that might be basking in the sun. The steep slopes of Croagh Patrick (Mount St. Patrick) in County Mayo Ireland were remembered with each step up the treacherous incline.  Each year a multitude of the faithful manage to climb that mountain, ...barefoot, as a sort of self-imposed penance.  Folks, ...one could just as easily (and a lot more cheaply) do their penance in the southern hills of Ohio... but it is strongly suggested that you keep your feet inside your shoes while walking in our hills.

One thing seems pretty certain and that is there were probably no snakes brave enough to confront the godly saint as he climbed Croagh Patrick.  Had a viper dared stick out its tongue to this man of god, it would have surely met its fate at the hand of Patrick's Irish walking stick ...or maybe his shillelagh.  With that in mind, a walking stick was quickly chosen for the rest of the journey up this (obviously) snake-infested trail. Funny how all of that comes to mind on a simple fishing trip the day before we were to celebrate this Great Saint's Feast Day.

So… if the holy man potentially ushered all of the snakes off the island… where in the world did they all go? Therein lies a great mystery. Inquiring minds want to know! Wonder if these exiled serpents could have joined forces with others here in the States? Having reached our sunny shores… could some have managed to wiggle themselves all the way to southern Ohio or even to my hometown? Yes, inquiring minds need to know! Surely, their current whereabouts would make for a fine tale being spun in neighborhood pubs.

Other than using the shamrock as his teaching tool, and seeing evidence of the great conversions to Christianity at his hands ...and the tales of him ushering all of the snakes off of the Emerald Isle, little else is known about this holy bishop. We know that the Great Saint lived and ministered on an island nation for most of his career and yet we celebrate his Feast Day each year with corned beef.  To be sure... St. Paddy never enjoyed a meal of corned beef and cabbage. More than likely his dinners would have been comprised of potatoes and fish.  After all, St. Patrick lived on an island... surrounded by water … and fish.

Surely, Patrick dined on the flesh of fish more than a few times, and following the call from Jesus, was probably both a fisher of men and a fisher of the kind that lives in the water (...an angler).  Wondering about the kind of bait ole St. Pat might have used to catch his dinner. If Paddy didn’t use those outcast snakes for bait, could he have used worms as luscious as these night-crawlers appear? Just wondering.... Would it be wrong to beg for the Great Saint's intercession for a selfish desire to catch just a fish or two on this fine day? No begging, ...no intercession, …no fish! Maybe that is just coincidence ...but next time...!

Nevertheless, that day was to be considered a complete success. Even without netting one meager fish, the opportunity was presented to grow closer to God and His creation. "God is good … All the Time!" One day after this religious experience and we were going to be celebrating the Great Saint's Feast Day with something other than fish. ...It is a good thing that this generation likes corned beef and cabbage.

Coming back in the house just as fast as she went out, our puppy bolted up the stairs to the Master bedroom. Both of  us had every intention of trying to catch a few more "Zzzzs" before officially starting the day. Following my dog a little more slowly, my eyes again focused on the cat that was now pawing at something in that dark area between the wall and the refrigerator.  Rather than have my wife be confronted by a furry mouse sometime as she prepared the food for the Great Feast, it was decided that *this* needed immediate attention. A broom was grabbed to be used either as a weapon ...or as a shield. Yes, it would have been comforting to me to have my watchdog by my side just in case the critter behind the refrigerator slipped through the paws of the cat or managed to avoid the swat of the broom… but puppy had long-ago raced up the stairs and presumably was already dreaming of chasing rabbits. Well...we would have to meet the beast without the aid of "ole faithful companion".

As my flashlight tried to illuminate the dark recesses of the kitchen, the cat edged forward, reaching her paw under the refrigerator. The cat appeared to have caught a mouse’s tail in her claws ...but when she slowly pulled it towards her... it became obvious that it was not a mouse but one of the longest worms ever seen.  The worm had stretched itself to the maximum length ...probably holding on for dear life, hoping to avoid becoming the cat’s breakfast. "No cat of mine is going to have a case of the worms!" The cat was obviously irritated when the huge worm was extricated from its claws and carried outside to be gently placed inside the flower garden.

Dusting off my hands upon re-entering the house, another huge worm was immediately discovered slithering toward the carpet of the living room.  So, another one was quickly ushered outside to a place much more appropriate for worms. Could there be more? Where in the world are these creatures coming from?  Imagine my surprise to see the better half of a worm escaping from the bottom of the refrigerator door. In a flash... the events of last night came to mind.  Upon returning from my fish-less fishing trip, the bait container with the twenty-one (21) surviving worms had been deposited for safe keeping (...and another day) in the refrigerator. When the refrigerator doors were swung open, *all* became apparent.  The lid for the bait container had opened ...just enough for the squirmy things to begin their great escape. Several worms were already heading down towards the vegetable crisper and the meat drawer (...one almost made it) ...but all of those were also scooped-up and hastily escorted to the flower garden.

It is still hours before dawn and my work had *just* begun. The bait container with what looked to be about a dozen remaining night-crawlers was quickly taken outside and ceremoniously dumped  in the garden with all of the other worms already placed there.  Just as the container was emptied it onto the ground, it dawned on me that a smarter person would have taken the time to count all of the worms to make sure that all twenty-one (21) were “present and accounted for”. Too late! Lost opportunity!  In the darkness one could see that the others had already started to scatter. Did all of them make it out of the house and into the garden?

Without that certain knowledge meant that a thorough cleaning of the inside and outside of the refrigerator (and more) was required... before the first guest arrives.  This entailed moving every movable appliance and all of the furniture in both the kitchen and the living room. Each square inch of floor and walls had to be inspected... (sometimes with the aid of a flashlight) ...just in case. Throughout this cleaning, the questions kept coming, “Should this incident be shared with my spouse as a humorous little story?” Also, “Is it better to suffer from a sin of omission or suffer from the truth being told before the guests arrive?” Would my beloved have a good laugh with me? The answers for those and other questions would have to wait! More cleaning had to be done... and quickly. Alas, the cleaning and final inspection was completed just before my beloved entered the room and poured herself a cup of coffee.  “It’s going to be a busy day, ...so much cooking and cleaning to do before the first guest arrives.”  ...If she only knew! From the moment the first guest arrived until the last one left, my eyes were nervously scanning each guests to see if any of my slimy little critters were going to introduce themselves to our guests.

MORAL OF THE STORY: ‘Tis better to leave any unused worms at the fishing hole for benefit of fish rather than risk ruining your day having to wonder if a worm is going to suddenly slither onto  a guest’s plate.  

After reading this... some may believe that 'tis nothing more than a wee bit of blarney.  More charitable folks will assume 'tis nothing more than an attempt to spin an Irish yarn ...but as St. Patrick is my witness... if only it wasn't true! 

(For obvious reasons, this story could not be told before this. One had to be absolutely certain that all twenty-one (21) worms made it out of the house and into the garden ...and so sufficient time *had* to pass.)



It's A Wonderful Life

Reflection on the life of John E. Jones

7/29/1928 - 01/21/2011

 

There may be a few of you here today that can remember going to the picture show to see Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed grace the silver screen in the Frank Capra production of “It's A Wonderful Life”. If you happened to miss the first release of that picture back in 1946 maybe you had a chance to see it a time or two since then.. either in the black and white or the colorized version. ...Whether on the big screen, the little screen, or even on your PC monitor there have been plenty of opportunities to see and enjoy this movie ...and to take-in its very strong, faith-filled message.

Most of you are familiar with the story line... Once upon a time there was a man named George Bailey who was much-loved, much-respected in the tiny town named Bedford Falls. Though no one would consider George Bailey to have been a prosperous man... you could see that he was indeed rich in so many ways. George's wealth was based on the fact that he had a caring wife whom he dearly loved. Then there was the rest of the family (the children... and yes, even Uncle Billy). George loved each of them... and they loved him deeply in return. Besides that... there were all of George's friends. Almost everyone in town loved George Bailey... for the good friend that he was. Life was good!

One day, some horrible trouble struck ole George Bailey and suddenly he thought his life was worthless. Forgetting all that he had, George became seriously despondent. Luckily, George's family and friends immediately sensed George's need for help so they quickly stormed Heaven with prayers. The prayers from loving, faith-filled family and friends soon reached Heaven and, in turn, a guardian angel was sent to assist George. When George Bailey cried out that it would have been better if he had never been born, Clarence,the angel-in-training, began to show him what life on earth would have been like if George Bailey had never been born.

After examining his life with the guidance of the angel and having seen what would *not* have ever been, George Bailey discovered that this life of his did make a difference to lots of people. George's existence in that small corner of the world had an unbelievable impact on those around him and he realized that God had truly graced him.

Filled with this knowledge, George resolved to face head-on the adversity that had just recently seemed to strip-all meaning from his life. In the end, George triumphed because he was strengthened by the strong love of his wife, family and friends. As Clarence reminded him, “no man is a failure who has friends”. When times were tough, his family & friends stormed Heaven with prayers for his well-being. When George received the power of prayer he could exclaim that his was “a Wonderful Life”!

Whether we knew this man as friend, or husband, or dad, or Papa or Uncle or Cousin ...or even as General ...John E. Jones had a lot in common with George Bailey... and he knew it. Through the years and probably with Heaven's help, John came to appreciate the breadth and depth of his Wonderful Life.

One of the terms of endearment assigned to John Jones is ...“the General”. Now, when most of us picture a General ...we see someone with lots of shiny medals on their chest. For a military general, these medals might designate significant accomplishments or victories. For “our” general, his medals depicted his true treasurers... his loves; that is, his wife, his children, his grandchildren, great-grandchildren and the rest of the family ...as well as all of his dear, dear friends.

First of all... John often bragged (...to anyone who would listen) about how lucky he was to be married to the same loving woman for 60 years. His love for Helen seemed to grow with each passing year. In fact, John's last spoken words were about his undying love for his wife. God truly had graced John with a perfect “soul-mate”. John was truly blessed!

Adorning his chest ...and close to his heart ...are also the shiny medals depicting the rest of John's family. This includes his sons, his daughters, grandchildren, great grandchildren, nieces, nephews, cousins and brothers. The family reunions he hosted for this family over the years were memorable. John knew how to get us together and then throw a party. As you know, some folks have what they call “brag books” to show-off photos their kids, their kids' kids and their kids kids kids. John didn't need a “brag book” he wore these medals on his chest, close to his heart. At a “drop of the hat” John's eyes would light up and he would tell you stories about each of them. He would “puff-out his chest in pride” as John would do a little bragging about each of them.

This love was a two way street. The love that John gave was like “throwing bread upon the water” since it came back a hundred-fold. John's granddaughter Chrissy asked me to share with you a poem about her grandfather. This touching poem seems fitting and echoes the thoughts and love of grandchildren for their “Papa”.

TOGETHER, YET APART

Its got harder and harder
since the day you went away
but still people keep telling me
...everything shall be okay

I know deep inside
that it’s better up there
but we're not together
which makes it unfair 

 

Seems like yesterday
that we were together
then I opened my eyes
to realize “gone” means ...forever

It hurts and it aches
...its slicing my heart
for the rest of my life
we shall be apart

I’m waiting for the future
hoping to see
that when I die
You'll open up those gates for me

Having a Papa
with a heart made of gold
is my favorite treasure
which will never grow old

Family reunions
will never be the same
cause you’re not there with us
to be stronger I aim

Your favorite chair
is empty and cold
you need to come home
We need someone to hold

Now that you're gone
I have no-one to run to
Am I doing this right?
...please send me a clue

I don’t understand
the meaning of life
I can’t get this right
Keep getting in strife

Do you Know
How much we all love you?
Do you realize
How much I trust You?

You're Officially gone
But forever in my heart
You and me Papa
...together, yet apart

John Jones, Martha Jones, Helen Jones

Though John had a fairly large extended family ...and plenty of love to keep him warm, God also blessed John with many, many fine friends. These friends were also held close to John's heart and oftentimes he would brag about his friends. Good friends, faithful friends. Some of these friends were even made to feel as part of the family. Earlier you heard how John loved to throw a party for his family at reunions and anniversaries. Well... you should have witnessed the parties that he would throw for himself on his birthday each year. It was a great honor to even be invited to one of these parties.. even if he *did* throw it for himself. ...Good friends... faithful friends who loved him in return.

John had it pretty good (and he knew it) surrounded by a loving wife, a beautiful family and a flock of faithful friends. His truly was ...a Wonderful Life. He had been blessed. Today we celebrate *that* wonderful life (and rightly so)...but as faith-filled people we are called to realize that there is so much more that is prepared for us in the life to come. Our Lord speaks to us today through the Gospel of St. John when He assures us that something greater than this awaits us when He says, “In my Father's house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you?” Friends, we *have* the blessed assurance that there is an EVEN MORE Wonderful Life waiting for us.

Saint Paul continues with this message in the second chapter of his First Letter to the Corinthians when he writes, “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined the things that God has prepared for those who love Him." Quite frankly, quite simply we know that there is so much more ...even more beautiful and even more wonder-filled waiting for us in our eternal life to come. In *that* Wonderful Life, we trust that John will soon be reunited with his loving family and dearly-departed friends that went ahead of him.

All of this happiness and love that John enjoyed in *this* life, of course, will be nothing more than a “tiny drop in the ocean” compared to the true joy that awaits John and the rest of us in the promised New Life. *This* is our hope ...this is our prayer ...for John ...and for one another. Let us console another with these words of faith.

♪♫♪“...Until We Meet Again!”♫♪♫

Vaya con Dios!

Ruby the Wonder Dog

Ruby the Wonder Dog (our Chocolate Lab) is trained to gently wake up our son Tim every morning and *persuade* him to get out of bed. If gentle persuasion fails to move our "boy", Ruby quickly turns up the pressure and, in short order, manages to get Tim to put his feet on the floor. The ritual always begins with kisses and nuzzling ...but usually ends with friendly growling and playful nips, escalating in intensity ...until the desired result is achieved. Like a canine with OCD (Obsessive Canine Disorder), our beloved watchdog anxiously waits each morning for the command from her master to "...Wake Tim!!!".

Since Ruby seems to have issues distinguishing non-work days from work days, this dog goes stir-crazy on weekends and holidays as if to ask, "Did you *forget* to tell me to wake Tim?" Our lab will stand ready at the base of the stairs each morning, waiting for the special command to be issued. Whenever those words do not immediately come, this dog will try to get her master's attention by quickly looking at me and then looking up the stairs towards Tim's room and then looking back to me... waiting for “the word”. Truly, this animal is a “creature of habit”. On rare occasions when Tim is urged to “rise and shine” while Ruby is still outside for her morning constitutional ...and has not yet had a chance to perform her daily duty, Tim will react by advising, “Call Ruby ...and have *her* wake me up!” 

...Talk about “creature of habit!”.

This video of faithful dog versus stubborn sleeper has been on the internet for quite some time and one would have thought that by now the ritual would have become old hat for Ruby or Tim ...but the tradition continues.  In fact, now Ruby approaches her master after Tim is out of bed for a "pat on the head" for a job obviously well done. 

Some people like to start their day with a cup of steaming, aromatic coffee... others prefer to greet the day by having their face washed with doggy kisses.
...My personal preference is coffee!

(Please click the PLAY button on the video below to see "Ruby the Wonder Dog" in action.  ...You may want to push the PAUSE button on the IPOD in the right column before viewing this video).