This day in history - July 25, 1956: The ocean liner Andrea Doria collides with the MS Stockholm

By Richard K. Barry

On this day in 1956, the Italian ocean liner SS Andrea Doria collided with the MS Stockholm in heavy fog, killing 46. The collision took place 45 miles south of Nantucket Island. The next day, the Andrea Doria sunk.

The incident was heavily covered by the media at the time. It is generally recognized that the design of the ship, which allowed it to stay afloat for 11 hours after impact, good behavior of the crew, improvements in communications, and the quick response of other ships averted a disaster on the scale of the Titanic in 1912.

The Andrea Doria was the last major transatlantic passenger vessel to sink before air travel became the preferred method of crossing the ocean.

(Cross-posted at Lippmann's Ghost.)

prayer journeys

I’ve often wondered if prayer is such a good thing, why is it so difficult to maintain? Oh sure it’s easy to begin to pray or say you’re to going to develop your prayer life or that you want to deepen your relationship with God through more consistency in prayer, but how many of us find that after a week or two, or maybe even a couple months we hit a wall?

Or maybe something big changes in our life, like a new job, marriage or baby and suddenly the time and routine which we’d formerly devoted to prayer, is now consumed by duties too important to neglect. We’re overwhelmed and it’s easy enough to let the prayer slip into whatever time and space is left over.

As for myself, I justified my recent neglect of private prayer by saying, “But I go to Mass almost every day. Isn’t that good enough?” No! The Mass is the chief or central act of communal worship in the Catholic Church and there is nothing which can replace it. I would not miss any opportunity to go to daily Mass, however, it is not a substitute for my individual prayer time with God. I need both. I need to go away from everyone and spend time alone with the Father—just as Jesus did so often, as we are repeatedly told in the Gospels. When I do this, I find a world within myself where He dwells. I discover that still small voice.

We are all on a spiritual journey. For most of us, I suspect, it isn’t along a superhighway. I know I’m traveling the back roads. Lately, I think I’m not even on a road at all. It feels like God has taken me out of any motorized vehicle and is leading me along an unexplored path through a wooded area. He has me by the hand but I can’t see the way ahead at all. Maybe it is night time or He could have me blindfolded. In any event, the effect is the same; I’m completely dependent on Him to take me where He wants me to go. For someone who is a planner and organizer, this is not a comfortable position to be in. I have to trust Him utterly. I can’t stop praying—not because I’m good or self-disciplined but more out of a sense of desperation.

I don’t know if this means my prayers are less efficacious because they are as necessary as drinking water or breathing, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. I do wonder sometimes how many different levels we pray on. When I am very relaxed and praying the rosary, I’ll be contemplating Our Lord’s actions in one of the mysteries and yet I am also aware of being very conscious of my plea to Our Lady, “Pray for us!” Today when that happened, I wondered if one was the spirit and the other the mind or if they were both just simultaneous thoughts of the mind. I suppose that's not really important either ... just my random musings. Of course, that’s not to say, there aren’t other times, when I’m not concentrating on any level, so please don’t think I don’t have my fair share of distractions. I do!

I’m still very much a child of prayer, taking stumbling steps.

Oh Jesus, You have brought us safely thus far. Please continue to watch over us as we continue on our individual and collective journeys, always traveling toward You, the only and ultimate destination.

Speaking of Travel...

     A New York Times travel writer is going to be in Alabama this coming week, fresh from absorbing the culture in Louisiana and Mississippi. His post about that experience is a hoot!

     This is travel on the cheap! So don't expect to see him at the Montgomery Renaissance Hotel...but if someone called Seth Kugel shows up, treat him with all the Southern charm we can muster! He's a fool for rustic unique places....and here's my list of recommendations in Montgomery:

• Stop by the Southern Poverty Law Center's Civil Rights Memorial.


• Then drop down a block or two to stand in the spot where Jefferson Davis took the oath of office and where George Wallace pledged segregation now etc etc.(the upper and lower steps of the Capitol, respectively.


• Go into the Capital and walk through the old House Chamber where delegates decided to un-Unite with the U.S.


• All of that has been free, so splurge and enjoy the unexpected decor and the (somewhat expensive) taste of the cuisine at The Olive Room (down towards the other end of Dexter Avenue) is worth the visit.


• I know your mode of  transit is limited, but if you can go by The Alabama Shakespeare Festival, do so. It is another unexpected jewel.

Visitors? What have I left off?

Soul Searching -- The Journey of Thomas Merton

One of my mentors and favorite authors is Thomas Merton. Difficult to pin down, he is alternately described as a Catholic mystic, a spiritual rebel, a modern pilgrim, a compulsive writer and a beatnik-turned-monk. He is all of these and so much more besides.

It was his relentless quest for Truth—for God—which drove him all his life and it was this search which is explored in this recent film by Duckworks, Inc., called, Soul Searching—The Journey of Thomas Merton.

Born in France in 1915, Merton had an unusual upbringing—forced to leave Europe due to World War I, his mother died when he was six, then his father’s avant-garde lifestyle took him back and forth across the Atlantic until he was eventually left an orphan with one younger brother.

Although financially provided for himself, the young Thomas came of age at a time when the rest of the world was entering the Great Depression. This further set him at odds with what he saw around him. The documentary discusses the disgust he felt with himself after a night spent in dissipation when morning came; he’d watch the rest of the world going about their lives with a purpose he knew his lacked. Soon, his own purpose was to find him as well.

Shortly thereafter he experienced a dramatic conversion to Catholicism which he later described in his youthful autobiography, The Seven Storey Mountain—published ten years later in 1948, which may well be the first book I ever read by Merton.

My own journey to Father Louis, as he was known after he was ordained at Abbey of Gethsemani at Trappist, KY, goes back so far I cannot even remember the first time I heard of him or the first book of his I’ve read. He absolutely fascinates me. His writing is alive and compelling; he writes on seemingly dry subjects with an intensity which must have been electric when he was speaking the same words to a retreat group or a class of novices.

Watching this moving testimony to the life and works of Father Louis, I want to go back and pick up his books again. He was a 20th Century pioneer in Catholic spiritual renewal. He reminded us we're all called to pray contemplatively—there are not two paths, one for the elect and another for everyone else. In this, he was echoing almost lost teachings of the doctors of the Church, Sts. John of the Cross and Teresa of Ávila. Mental prayer and meaningful spiritual lives are not just for priests and nuns. Nor are we to be discouraged by our own sinfulness, inadequacies and failures.

‘Faith means doubt. Faith is not the suppression of doubt. It is the overcoming of doubt. And you overcome doubt by going through it. The man of Faith who has never experienced doubt, is not a man of Faith.’ ~~Thomas Merton

Merton’s early writing on prayer, spiritual biographies and conversion would later move on to more controversial issues, including Christian responsibility in race relations, violence, nuclear war and economic injustice. He died in 1968 in Bangkok, Thailand at age 53 due to an electrical accident. He left behind over 60 books, 2000 poems and countless letters, journals and various other documents. As I said early on, he was a compulsive writer. Make it a point to see Soul Searching and read Merton!

****

Thank You Father Rother!

Yesterday, the 28th of July, my in-laws and I headed out on the Northwest Expressway going – you guessed it – northwest to the little town of Okarche, birthplace of Father Stanley Rother. It was a hot, windy day on the Oklahoma plains, a good day for a pilgrimage.

Our destination was Holy Trinity Catholic Church, in Okarche, where we arrived a little before noon. For those who don’t know, a pilgrimage is a journey to a sacred place or shrine; it can cover a long distance, or be a search for some exalted purpose or moral significance. In my case, this was a personal spiritual pilgrimage undertaken in honor of the 28th anniversary of Father Rother’s martyrdom. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I’ve long wanted to tour this town, worship inside the church and perhaps even visit the grave of this inspirational priest. Several times, I planned to take my children, but something always came up. We had called our family homeschool, Father Stanley Rother Academy. We said the prayer for his canonization every morning as a part of our daily prayers … but somehow we never made the short trip to Okarche. I felt a little sad as I arrived and saw just how close the town was to us.

When we drove up, Channel 4 News¹ was interviewing a woman in front of Holy Trinity Church about why she had come today. She had tears in her eyes when she spoke about her admiration for Father. Was it my imagination, or did the questions coming from the interviewer and the camerawoman sound hostile? I handed the woman a tissue when the interview concluded.

Holy Trinity is a beautiful Gothic-style, stone and brick church, which is a well-known historical landmark in the area. Built in 1903, it is older than our state, and its outer magnificence is only surpassed by its interior serene beauty. I had come to do an hour of Adoration before the Blessed Sacrament in response to the write-up in our diocesan newspaper, The Sooner Catholic. (See page 15 of the July 12, 2009 edition for the article.) Even though my in-laws aren’t Catholic, “Mom” and “Dad” joined me for Holy Hour. It was their first experience of this particular Catholic tradition, but they were very used to attending other Catholic events with me, beginning almost twenty-five years ago when they attended our wedding in the chapel at RAF Mildenhall, UK.

After Adoration, we admired the small collection of memorabilia at the back of the church devoted to Father Rother, including some of his vestments. Then we photographed the outside of the church, including the statue pictured above, and went to lunch at the local Tower Café. Just as our food was set down before us, a nice-looking gentleman came up and said, “Didn’t I just see you over at the church a little while ago?” He was specifically addressing my father-in-law who said that yes, we’d just come from there.

With the warmest possible voice and manner and a smile as wide as an Oklahoma plain, he said, “I thought I recognized your bald head! Hi! I’m Tom Rother², Stan’s youngest brother.”

You could have picked me up off the floor … if Tom hadn’t sat down right next to me and blocked me into my booth seat! He proceeded to stay for the next twenty minutes—or so—and ‘shoot the breeze’ with us about “Stan”, their family, Oklahoma and Indiana—where my in-laws are from, farming, families in general, and just general ‘down home’ folk’s talk which just showed that farming and farming folk don’t know anything ‘bout state lines. Tom Rother, I discovered, was just a bit younger than my in-laws and they had a world in common. I reveled in just being the ‘fly on the wall’ for most of the conversation.

Tom had us laughing and feeling like we’d known him all our lives. As he was getting ready to leave, he said, “You are coming to Mass later at 5?” as if it wasn’t so much a question as a statement, and Dad said, “We should be coming back through just about then.”

We did some other sightseeing but we were back at Holy Trinity in time for Mass, after which Tom, and his lovely wife Marty, took us out to the graveyard. There we learned more family history, saw the family plot and gravestones and even encountered a representative and source for copies of The Shepherd Cannot Run ($10) and DVD, No Greater Love… The Story of Father Stanley Rother ($10), both of which I was looking for and will be reviewing in the not too distant future.

As we drove home, my own heart and spirit were soaring with gratitude and love. I have no doubt that Father Rother arranged everything, through Our Lord Jesus Christ. I believe in the Communion of Saints!

Father Rother, your brother and his wife are such warm and wonderful people. I look forward to meeting you too someday! Thank you!





¹ I was told by a friend at work today that she saw me on the news last night. Ah! My three or four seconds of fame and I missed it! We didn't get home until almost nine and then we had a whopper of an Oklahoma hail and wind storm come through which left us without power for two hours, split our pear tree down the middle and knocked over the freestanding basketball hoop blowing out the rear windscreen of one of our old cars. Guess I was just a little bit busy... ☺

² The second picture is yours truly with Tom Rother standing behind Father Rother's grave.

WORD POWER-IMPROVE ENGLISH WORD MEANINGS

ENGLISH LANGUAGE is one of the most prominent tool in our life which is much need in way to

Communicate not only in professional walks of our life but also at various level of our socio - economic

structure of our society.

As world is shrinking day by day, people are traveling for all parts of world..Communication plays an important role in amid of above context.

For eg. A manager of a car company let say have to travel to u.s for client meeting, china for its production unit management and why not let say Australia for its new advertisement campaign.

so as we can see all this require a great communication with different parts of world continent.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

HERE ARE SOME TIPS TO IMPROVE YOUR WORD-POWER:

• MORE YOU PRACTICE BETTER YOU SHAPE UP.

• START EARLY

• NEVER HESITATE TO SPEAK OUT WITH YOUR FRIENDS

• TRY TO IMPLEMENT A NEW WORD LEARN IN YOUR DAILY CONVERSATION.

• WRITE DOWN WORLD THAT YOU FIND DIFFICULT TO UNDERSTAND IN A SMALL NOTE BOOK.

• AT THE END OF THE DAY TRY TO FIND THEIR MEANING

• PRACTICE DAILY BUT REGULARLY.

REVIEW YOURSELF EVERY WEEK TO MARK YOUR PROGRESS



PLEASE DO COMMENT, I WILL BE OBLIGED TO ANSWER AND WILL BE VERY HAPPY TO SEE YOU PROGRESS.







>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>HAPPY LEARNING>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I Am Bonhoeffer

The truth is I read everything these days with a view to gaining insight about him. I'm on a personal quest to learn all I can about our Holy Father, Pope Benedict XVI, even to the extent of plugging the many holes in my German History education.

I found I Am Bonhoeffer: A Credible Life two days after Christmas and purchased it with my Christmas gift card. Interestingly (since I don't believe in co-incidents) I picked the book up the same day our family went to see the new movie, Valkyrie. Interesting as the movie is about the plot to kill Hitler which is the same reason Bonhoeffer was eventually arrested and executed.

Although this is a fictionalized biography, it is excellent. The writing is first class and the author's background as a journalist-historian tells in his tight, credible construction of plot, dialogue and character. Barz also demonstrates an exceptional ability to develop and describe the evolution of Bonhoeffer's theological thoughts and beliefs which is precisely what I was looking for in this work.

‘I am Bonhoeffer. Fine. But who is that?’ On page 222 of Paul Barz’s retrospective novel about the martyred German pastor we finally learn the significance of the title. Raised as a privileged prince, the youngest son in a large, loving, upper-class family, it may have taken imprisonment for Dietrich Bonhoeffer to really come to know himself. In any event, I am really looking forward to reading his Letters and Papers from Prison to see if such proves to be the case.

I am Bonhoeffer specifically refers to Dietrich’s climactic realization that – like everyone else – he, too, can be stripped of wealth, title, position, family, love, freedom and yet something still remains. This novel begins in two places: at his arrival in Nazi prison in 1945 and his idyllic childhood. It continues to progress along the two rails of his journey through his life behind bars and his life of freedom growing up in the first half of the 20th Century. The two separate ‘worlds’ are eerily juxtaposed as the final months of the Second World War drag to a close and Germany propels itself inevitably into cataclysmic ruin--all the while the young Dietrich is discerning his vocation, even at times his faith. Not his denomination necessarily, but his ability to believe, which according to those who knew him best, didn’t always come easy; depending on your viewpoint a comforting or a disconcerting thing in one’s pastor.

He traveled to and lived in Italy, Spain, America, England and Switzerland. Each country and its people left a mark on him and his understanding of God, religion and worship. Italy was omnipotent grandeur, sound, smells and blue, blue skies. Spain was where he learned pastors are a kind of matador. America was Uncle Tom, Gospel music, and simple, emotional faith. England and Switzerland were places to help Jews to escape to, but not for him. Germany always drew him home. I am Bonhoeffer tells more than just the story of one man’s developing maturity and ultimately heroic struggle against tyranny. It also gives some of the history of German Protestant Christian politics in the late 1920’s and through the 30’s and early 40’s. It’s easy to forget it’s a work of fiction; it reads like a well-written biography. Later when the Nazis came to power, it’s possible to trace the decline of the Church as a moral influence as well. Although far from a complete record of the time, as one witness to the era, IaB is telling.

Though Bonhoeffer couldn’t lie; his baby face and honest countenance weren’t made for espionage, the conspirators to kill Hitler still found use for his very innocence.

If the book has a weakness, it’s that it fails to relate or even speculate how Bonhoeffer reconciled his Christian ethics with his own participation in treason and murder, even if the victim of the murder was Hitler. Many other peripheral issues were discussed such as: would/should he defend himself when the authorities came for him; was his head already on the same deathbed at the Scholls, members of the “White Rose” resistance group executed while he was in prison; should he marry, did he deserve to, was he still of use in the normal world, etc. So perhaps he did not reconcile his own decision to kill the monster, Hitler, and yet felt it expedient and/or necessary for the greater good of mankind. This and other questions are left unanswered, as is the case whenever someone dies, but especially during wartime, and especially when the Nazis kangaroo try and execute the person in haste, in secret and burn the body.

Incredible book!


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Salt of the Earth

Yesterday I drove to Texas to see a friend I hadn't seen in ten years. It was like we'd only seen each other yesterday! It was the old Feast of the Nativity and we exchanged gifts. We had lunch at a French café and talked for hours, mostly about Him; His best friend, the white-haired gentleman, AKA, PBXVI and the book club. Although the picture on the left is a terrible picture of me, I love that we are in front of some very old books. Thanks lh for being such a great friend . . . and let's please try to get together before it's another ten years, okay?! ☺

And because this is a book blog, I must add that I listened to my favorite white-haired gentleman's interview on Salt of the Earth while I was driving there and back. It resulted in a few missed turns but it was worth it. I can't begin to say enough about how good it is. Well I can . . . and I think I just did. More to follow!

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Gepetto the Toymaker

He refers to himself as Gepetto the Toymaker. And sometimes making toys can come in handy.

I'm talking about my own dear spouse, who I call Bear.

Last year the folks at the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) here in Oklahoma City got wind of the fact that my Bear is pretty handy at making things, especially anything and everything that flies. They approached him with a little idea for making a few training models for their new air traffic control students.

Gepetto got immediately to work. First he had to make a protype of each aircraft type they wanted. Next, came developing molds for 'mass production', purchasing supplies, and beginning the endless process of mixing, pouring, and and waiting for each unit to dry. Once the resin is 'set', the unit is ready for removal; one by one, each individual airplane is slowly and carefully taken out of the mold, meticulously cleaned and painted, a laborious and painstaking process. Just one man, a messy garage and plenty of dedication.

Needless to say, when his airplanes were featured recently on Good Morning America, Bear/Gepetto was quite proud. No, he doesn't get named. They don't even talk about his hard work, but they do show it here and now you know the rest of the story. Sometimes it's kind of fun to be taken behind the scenes . . .

Want to hear what the Toymaker has to say about it?

Here are some of the models I have built for the FAA. All are made to 1/200 scale (1" = 200"), the scale for most of the FAA trainer jets. In the three-airplane picture are prototypes which I carved from Bassword, sanded to shape, then painted with primer to smooth them for molding. The largest T-tail jet is a RJ (Regional Jet), and the smaller jet is meant to represent a Falcon. The smallest is an approximation of a 310-size twin. The RJ is approximately six inches long, and the 310 is approximately two inches long. The other picture is of finished models; a Citation-type business jet, and a standard 172-sized airplane. The FAA requires them in plain white paint for the most part, with windows and no paint schemes. The reason? They keep walking off with students!

Also included is a shot of a citation in the rough as it comes out of the mold, with the two pink mold halves opened up. The models are cast in Urethane resin, a non-toxic resin with good strength characteristics to hold up to handling. It is relatively expensive, and cures in six to 20 minutes depending on heat and humidity. I cannot mold in the summer time; the resin cures in less than 2 minutes, which means I can't get the resin mixed and poured in time to ensure a good cast.

Problems? bubbles in the mold and the resin; that means I have to hand fill every pore in the skin of the cast model with putty, wait for it to dry, and then sand it down. Sometimes I have to do it more than once before painting. And worst of all: I sometimes have models that just don't fully cast for a lot of reasons. The picture of the "bucket of shame" says it all... how many don't make the cut. You never find out until you split the mold after it cures... and start over again. Each successful model requires approximately 3 hours from start to finish. Multiply that by 60 and do the math... It's laborious, and that's all I'll say!

Walk in a Relaxed Manner

by Joyce Rupp


Started: 20 December 2005
Finished: 14 December 2007

Yes, you read the dates right. I did start this book over two years ago. I have a bad habit of starting books—especially back when I was homeschooling—and then getting sidetracked before finishing them. Since I ‘retired’ from teaching my own children last year, I’ve been much better about completing what I begin—at least so far as books go. I hope this trend lasts.

However, truth be told, I actually started and restarted and re-restarted this book! Not that it isn’t an excellent book—it is! It’s just not what I call a cover-to-cover book, i.e., a book that you easily sit down and read from cover-to-cover. But then it isn’t meant to be.

Walk in a Relaxed Manner is the type of book you read in small bites. I recommend reading one chapter at a time—which is what I finally did the last time I started it, the time I finally finished it.

It was my dear aunt who first suggested I read something by the author Joyce Rupp. Although I’d never heard of her before then, soon I began seeing Sr. Rupp’s books everywhere, especially on the shelves of my favorite religious bookstore. But out of the many books written by this prolific author, I was looking for a title that spoke to me. In the end, it was the cover which drew me to the book—the picture of a woman backpacker hiking in the mountains among the sheep. And perhaps the subtitle also had something to do with my selection, Life Lessons From the Camino.

As stated in numerous previous blog posts I did a pilgrimage last fall. One of the stops was Santiago de Compostela, the destination of all pilgrims along the Camino. The author, Sr. Joyce Rupp hiked the Camino in 2003 with Fr. Tom Pfeffer, now deceased. This book is a collection of short essays or reflections she wrote on the lessons she learned while hiking the Camino. In fact, each chapter is given over to one succinct lesson, e.g., go prepared, live in the now, return a positive for a negative, travel lightly, look for unannounced angels and keep a strong network of prayer to name but a few from the list of twenty-five. Oh! And, there is a chapter specifically devoted to walking in relaxed manner.

In retrospect, even though I did not hike the Camino, this would have been an invaluable book to have read, savored and prayed before I left on my pilgrimage. I regret deeply not having done so! And yet, I did finish it very soon after my trip. Was I able to relate to the author’s mistakes so easily because I had recently returned from my own trip and I recognized myself and my own errors in the author's self-deprecating stories? I wonder. Would I have derived the same benefit from the book if I'd read it before leaving? I like to think so. There’s no way of knowing of course. However, if you do plan on hiking the Camino—especially if it’s for spiritual reasons—I cannot recommend this book too highly.

And as a beautiful spiritual guide, this book is wonderful, uplifting and insightful.

****

The Flying Pilgrim

"When we are no longer children, we are already dead." ~~Konstantin Brancusi

The marvelous thing about being a child is that we are free to question, or at least we should be. Children have such a delightfully unaffected openness to everything; they naturally wonder about all they encounter. But somewhere along the line, they -- we -- come to believe that instead of being here in this life to learn, we're here to know and to have all the answers already. What a shame! With that kind of outlook, we have already set ourselves up to preclude further learning.

That, I discovered, is the purpose of pilgrimage. It is an opportunity to step back into the Great Metaphor of Life. Life itself is Pilgrimage. We truly are here on a journey. It is a voyage of constant discovery, of pitfalls, mistakes, corrections, adjustments and moving on--or it should be. We aren't here to be perfect already--although we are meant to be headed in that direction--but to be ourselves.

We are here to learn how to let go of fear and embrace Love. To turn away from hatred and turn towards Forgiveness. To abandon despair and take up Faith and Hope. To say 'no' to animosity and 'yes' to Peace. To stop looking down and start looking up--to learn how to fly.

It was a lifelong time dream of mine to visit Santiago de Compostela. 'Santiago' is Spanish for Saint James (the Great) and refers to the apostle who came to this part of Spain to preach and convert. He was eventually martyred in Jerusalem, but his body was brought back to the city for burial. It was this fact which led to the city's designation as one of the three holy cities* during the Middle Ages. The two other Christian Holy Cities are Rome and Jerusalem. (I had been under the impression that Canterbury in England was at one time considered a Christian Holy City but have not been able to confirm that to date.)

Santiago lies in the far northwestern corner of the Spanish Iberian peninsula very near the Atlantic Ocean. Travel to Santiago was extremely long, harsh and dangerous for traditional pilgrims which is precisely why they went. Peregrinos is the Spanish word for pilgrims and in both languages it means the same thing, 'one who travels to a foreign land, a shrine or a holy place as an act of devotion'.

Why do it? Why put yourself through something like it? Speaking from personal experience, pilgrimages are not "fun". Although my own journey was a thousand times easier than what medieval wayfarers encountered, still it was no picnic. We were up before six most mornings and slept in a different bed almost every night. I probably had second degree sunburn most of the trip, was constantly constipated, had huge bruises from slamming my suitcases into myself, got by on five or six hours of sleep a night, had breakfast at six or seven, often little-to-no lunch and dinner at eight or nine in the evening. We waited in long lines everywhere we went, and were constantly shoved and pushed by our fellow travelers who were trying to get to the same places as we were--all of us competing for limited resources and running on fatigue. Bathrooms were disgustingly dirty after long frustrating waits and often had no locks. Water had to be purchased. Fresh fruit was of poor quality, expensive or non-existent. Not knowing the language, customs, often where we were, missing our families, showers that didn't work and/or flooded bathrooms--not life-threatening certainly, but it begins to wear after two weeks.

Still, since I have returned, I have been reading what those who have walked El Camino de Santiago or 'The Way of St. James' had to deal with and I know I had it easy. Very easy! I was blessed. In fact, at times I was even a little (although not much) envious of those who did walk the Camino.

But as my dear husband likes to say, 'God doesn't call us all to be Mother Teresa'. For some of us, it is challenge enough to be ourselves. Indeed!

To be a 'flying pilgrim' is still to be a sojourner, to be a seeker after God's Truth. On my trip to Santiago, I found this little gem of a children's book, by Lawrence Schimel, The Flying Pilgrim. It is a sweet little book which tells the story about El Camino de Santiago from the perspective of a little swallow who sees the pilgrims arriving to his city and wonders what all the fuss is about. He flies backwards from Santiago east to the beginning of the way, learning as he goes, what the journey of pilgrimage is all about.

I don't know why I bought the book; I don't really have anyone to give it to right now. But everyone on my tour certainly enjoyed passing it around and reading it. So I suppose we are all still children at heart. I guess I'll just hold on to the book for now. We were only allowed fifty pounds of luggage on our pilgrimage so I didn't buy hardly anything on my trip--just rosaries and holy cards for friends which I have mostly given away. And this book, for the child in me.

The good thing I suppose is that it shows I am still a child and therefore not dead...yet--but still searching and trying to discover what purpose God has for me in this life. I did not walk the Way of St. James, but I suppose I could call myself a 'Flying Pilgrim'.



*Pope Alexander III declared Santiago a 'Holy City' and war against the Moor a crusade which would reward the fallen with a 'martyr's crown.'

I made it to Arlington

A long-time military friend who lost his wife to cancer several years back always has a hard time with Veterans Day* because it's her birthday.

Sadly, many American adults today don't know the difference between Veterans Day and Memorial Day.

I wish I'd had this short film (below) to watch and song to listen to on Veterans Day--even if it is more appropriate to Memorial Day.

Actually it's good any day . . . because we're free Americans every day of the year thanks to the men and women resting here. Rest in peace you heroes and heroines! I am very thankful for your sacrifice! As a former service member myself, I often wondered if I'd be called upon to give what you did. You have not only my undying gratitude, but also my most heartfelt admiration and respect. I remember walking among the crosses, stars and stones on my family's trip to Washington a few years back. We sat on the steps and watched the complete changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier several times through even though my children were still quite young. We were all fascinated and inspired.

On this day in 1863, President Lincoln delivered the Gettysburg Address. Arlington Cemetery lies on land which used to belong to General Robert E. Lee. November is a month which Americans dedicate to giving thanks and Catholics commit to remembering those who have gone on to the next life.

God bless all of you and God bless America!



* Veterans Day is an American holiday honoring military veterans. Both a federal holiday and a state holiday in all states, it is celebrated on the same day as Armistice Day or Remembrance Day in other parts of the world, falling on November 11, the anniversary of the signing of the Armistice that ended World War I. (Major hostilities of World War I were formally ended at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918 with the German signing of the Armistice.)

The Church of the Holy Trinity, Fátima, Portugal

. . . the 'rest of the story' . . .

Now that I've painted a picture of Heaven-on-earth and sweetness and light, let me turn you around and focus your attention on what lays in the other direction--just across the square from the lovely Basilica of Our Lady of the Rosary.

Please look at the attached photos before you read any further. Especially the first one on the right. You have to see this cross to believe it. The bent wrought iron is supposed to represent the crucified Christ--but I can't bring myself to call it a crucifix. It seems to make a mockery of a real crucifix. Although I did cut off the top portion of it in my photo; trust me, you aren't missing a thing. It is as hideous as it looks. It stands outside the Church of the Holy Trinity, which was dedicated on the morning of the 90th Anniversary celebrations.

I will keep this article blessedly short by letting my pictures of the modern structure speak for themselves. (I wanted to write modern 'monstrosity', but refrained.)

There are no kneelers, stained glass or Communion rail. More simply, there is no beauty in this church. There is one statue of Our Lady.

The church seats 9000, but the seats aren't even secured properly. Every time someone moves, the whole section of seats--the 'pew', I suppose you could call it--shifts. The workmanship is very shoddy. In fact, the church wasn't finished, but they went ahead with the dedication anyway.

We were more or less 'forced' to attend Mass there on Sunday, the 14th of October, because all Masses in the Basilica were cancelled. Linda and I were sitting in the Basilica waiting for 9 a.m. Mass to begin when they made the announcement (in Portuguese) and the people started getting up to leave. We, of course, didn't know what had been said, but we figured it out soon enough.

According to a dear friend who is much more knowledgeable about such things than me, the design of this church violates the Church's Book of Directives on architectural design. I wouldn't know about that--although I will be reading up on it in the near future.

What I do know is that it is ugly.

Here is an article which tries to give a fair and balanced assessment about the church, but even so has many errors. http://www.unitypublishing.com/Newsletter/FatimaBasilica.htm Still it was the only article I could find which provided this much factual information on the church. Everyone seems strangely silent on the whole subject of this church. Even our guide would only say that architectural tastes change over time.

I -- respectfully -- beg to disagree. They may change . . . but not that much!