Books read in 2021

 Covid continues to boost the amount of reading I do, or perhaps it's aging and and being more sedentary year by year. By and large this was an excellent list, and most I would read again, with the exception of those listed at the bottom of this post.  

In My Time - Cheney
The Saint Monica Club - Second Reading - Green
Decision Points - Bush
Into the Deep - An Unlikely Catholic Conversion - Favale
Boots on the Ground - Marciano
A Prayer for Owen Meany - Irving
War and Peace - Tolstoy
Sinners in the Presence of a Loving God: An Essay on the Problem of Hell - Manis
John James Audubon: The Making of an American - Rhodes
The Saint Monica Club - Green
The Day the Revolution Began: Reconsidering the Meaning of Jesus's Crucifixion - Wright
Atonement - Stump
Where Nobody Knows your Name - Life in the Minor Leagues of Baseball - Feinstein
By What Authority - An Evangelical Discovers Catholic Tradition - Shea
11-22-63 - King
Shoe Dog - Knight
The Count of Monte Christo - Dumas
Holy Bible - RSV - with Apocrypha
How to be a Grandfather - Hugo
Of Plymouth Plantation - William Bradford
The Complete Works of Flavius Josephus - Whiston translation
The Dreaded Thirteenth Tennessee Union Cavalry - Storie
Les Miserables - Hugo
Moby Dick - Melville
Untitled Draft of a Novel - Jones

Worst of the bunch - would not read again

Moby Dick - Herman Melville, My expectations were too high. I was expecting it to be a book about hunting for a great white whale, which was about 10% of the book. See my previous post. Quite boring. 

How to be a Grandfather - Hugo. The author wrote one of my favorite books, Les Miserables. This book of "poems", has nothing to do with being a Grandfather and little to do with his grandchildren. A collection of bad poems written by a grumpy old man who hated the Catholic Church and thought people reading this book would want to know that. I will pray for your soul, Victor

Eucharistic Adoration

Before the blessed sacrament. 

The mystery. The blessing. How do we stay away? Why is it that I allow so much time to pass before attending. How much time will pass before I am here again. 

Things you forget about snow in Summer

 We just had the first major snow of the season. Schools were let out early, or cancelled altogether. When we first moved here in 2003, schools rarely closed for snow. Now they do so with a regularity similar to the schools of St. Louis, where we moved from. We are becoming a less snow-tough people, but that is a topic for another time.

As I shoveled the porch and front steps I thought of the things I had not called to mind since last winter. 

How different the weight of snow can be from one storm to the next. You can tell without picking up a shovel, just by stepping on it. At times it is like shoveling feathers, other times like shoveling lasagna. 

What wind does. Five inches of snow usually means 18 inches in the vortex by the shed and an inch in parts of the front yard. 

What sun does. The fact a sunny day can melt snow and ice when the air temp is in the teens, is one of those pleasant little surprises of nature. 

The beauty of hoarfrost, diamond dust and snowdogs. 

The camaraderie of neighbors as we dig out. We wake up on a Saturday morning all facing the same problem, getting this stuff off the driveway, navigating the snowbanks left by the city plows.  

That squirrels may attempt to seek shelter somewhere in my house. A nook, a crease, a forgotten opening. The scratching sound in a wall is never good news, and was heard around 11pm last night for the first time in a few years. 

The beauty of this land when it is only two colors, White and shades of brown. 

 

Lost and Found in winter jackets

 Each October or November I don my collection of winter jackets for the first time in six months or so. In the packets are reminders of winters past, projects, and days. 

A pack of matches from a long defunct Savings and Loan. It has followed me since the mid 80's. 

A pokemon card that was a bookmark last year. 

A pair of work gloves. 

A pen from the Ford dealer in the next town. 

A lighter. 

They smell like the closet they came from, except for one that bears traces of an outdoor fire. 

I like the pockets of old jackets. Sort of an old man's Christmas stocking. 

The boat is in storage, the dock and lift are in the yard

 I know the best fishing is usually in the fall but I just cannot keep the boat setup much past Labour Day. Once we get to mid-September I am ready to pack it all in for the season. I have moved on, summer is over and it is time to get started on the whole long list of chores that must be done before the first snow flakes fall. 

I'm missing something, I know. There is a special time here in Minnesota to be out of doors and I am ditching it. Yes I am. Autumn is a trickster. It deceives. It looks like it will linger, yet rarely does. I don't think it actually exists. 

I have heard people who are natives say that they love the four seasons of this country. They cannot count. Knoxville has four seasons. St. Louis has four seasons. Baltimore has four seasons. Minnesota has two. Summer and Winter. There are three phases to winter. Cool Winter, followed by Deep Winter, followed by Soggy Winter. Summer has three phases as well. Soggy summer, Big Summer and Harvest Summer. Harvest Summer and Cool Winter overlap by about a week. Same for Soggy Winter and Soggy Summer, which only the lengthening of days allows one to distinguish between them. 

My boat is in storage in Scott County. Here is my boat lift and dock. Until May (Soggy Summer).

Thank you Lord, for this drought

 I don't know how these things come about but our land finds itself in an extended period of very low rainfall. A few years ago when we were getting much rain, I wished for a period like this. But weather extremes always cause difficulty for someone. While I am enjoying this, others are not. 

The drought reminds me of just how little of my life is under my own control. I depend on the Lord for each drop of rain and each ray of sunshine. Not that I am unaware or need to be reminded, but I do need to be more thankful. I live in an area of abundant wetlands and lakes, land that survives an extended dry period much better than other areas. 

There are numerous little blessings. 

I get a very good look at the lawn. I have different types of grasses. They respond differently to drought. Some keep much of their green and just slow down their growth, while others quickly go to brown. 

I understand my weed crop better. Like grass, weeds respond differently. Many keep their color while slowing their growth. They stand out during droughts and are more easily removed.  

Grasses are restored along lakeshore. Things long dormant come to life. Wetlands dry up just enough that they are easier to walk through and pull out trash and junk that boaters and fisherman have tossed into my cattail fields. 

Nature acts differently in general. Some of this is just random and some is related to the drought. It doesn't really matter to me if this is drought caused, or just coincidental. Such as: Turtle population up, Japanese beetles down, currants sweeter, tomatoes tastier, chipmunks up, crappie fishing off.

Fall colors come sooner. This week I have friends visiting from SC. Red maple leaves are showing up here and there earlier than usual. 

On balance, good stuff. 

Random thoughts on Covid

 I have nothing to add to the debate about whether folks should get vaccinated. This post is mainly for posterity, maybe my great-great-grandkids will read about it and use this post in a school assignment on early 21st century American history. 

I have relatives in the current hotspots of Arkansas and Missouri. I lived about ten years in both states and have an understanding of the mindset that makes people detest being told what to do, for whatever reason. I understand the mistrust of government. It is an easy path for elected officials to make this an issue of personal responsibility and choice. 

But those who oppose vaccines don't mistrust the government in all things. They trust the USDA that the meat they eat is safe. They trust the FDA that aspirin is safe for a headache. They trust the NTSB when they investigate a plane crash. When the National Weather Service says a tornado is likely in their area, they trust that information, even if it later proves incorrect. If they have a legal dispute most take it to the court system, believing there is a good chance that if they are right they will prevail. In all of these situations we are trusting government scientists and government legal experts in matters we know little about. 

But there is something about the nature of this particular vaccine that they feel so strongly that some are willing to take a chance and skip it. That is their choice, that is how we have set this thing up. They repeat that cry of rebellion that we all shouted in our childhood, "I don't want to do it and you can't make me!" Some times that rebellion is right, but in this case it just seems foolish. What is gained?

We all know that government does make us do things. That is what governments do. In the most extreme example, in wartime the government makes men fight and sometimes die to preserve the government. It is not matter of choice, they have to. And they do it. 

The government makes me stop at red lights. It is not a matter of choice. It makes me pay for goods before removing them from a store. It makes me wear clothing in public. It makes me pay taxes even if the money is used for things I don't approve of, a law that bugs all of us at some point. It makes me feed and clothe my children. Why? Because the public good takes priority in these matters over my personal preferences. It doesn't matter what I want to do, the government says I have to. By and large these are good common sense rules that enable us to live together somewhat peaceably. They are also rules that we have agreed to by majority rule, an idea that we don't talk about much any more. 

The government is content to do whatever it can to persuade. Bit by bit that seems to be helping the stragglers, but it won't get all. There won't be a mandate, but as my Dad used to say, "Son, I can't make you do that, but I can sure make you wish you had". 

Life is going to get much harder for those who refuse to vaccinate. It is going to become more and more inconvenient. Airlines, stores, restaurants, and other places where people gather in tight spaces will act. There will be mandates. They will be specific, not general. 

And they will wish they had. 

Turn to Shepard Smith for the really important stuff

This really got me laughing this morning. I'm watching CNBC around 730am CT and on comes Shepard Smith touting his big news show later in the day, one that of course, you should not miss. 

CNBC claims that "The News with Shepard Smith is CNBC’s nightly newscast providing deep, non-partisan coverage and perspective on the day’s most important stories." 

Hmmm. So what are today's most important stories, according to SS? 1) The cause of Tiger Woods' February 23rd car accident 2) The nationwide shortage of ketchup packets. 

Not so sure I'm agreeing with your perspective on April 7th 2021, Mr. Shepard. 

Ice Out and Ice In on our Minnesota lake

This week was ice out time. If you don't live this far north it is something that wouldn't enter your thinking about the seasons. It's a big deal. There is a good feeling that comes from seeing open water after four or so months of cold. It doesn't mean the end of snow, or the frost on the windshield. It just means the end of ice on the lake. 

It came a little earlier than average, which is around April 9th. That is typical, it jumps around a lot from one year to the next. One day the lake is mainly covered in ice, the next day the ice is gone. The reverse happens in that fall. Our lake is not huge, around 250 acres or so. If you live on a really big one, the process is a little less straightforward. More fits and starts, one bay is open, another is not, depending on sunlight, wind and the like. 

March 25th was the ice-out for this year. In the last ten years the earliest was March 15, the latest was May 1. Dec 1 was the ice-in date last fall, ranging between November 12 and December 19 since 2012. 

The state government keeps track of this information. I am one of the hundreds of citizen volunteers who watch the ice and submit the numbers. I've been watching the ice for the past week, binoculars in hand from the warmth of my den. Whew. My work is done. Until November. 

March 21, 2021 was much like September 11, 2013

Very hard to describe, but almost the exact same feeling. 

March Hoops

 There is something about the basketball tournament that has a way of sticking in your head. From the drama of selection Sunday to the form, the structure, the dreams that rise and fall with each tip-off in the first round. 

The tournament is like much of our lives. With many big big things we get no second chance at all. You lose, you go home. 

You make the right impression on that first date, the rest of your life is changed. Make the wrong impression and there may be no second chance. Same way with job interviews. Sales presentations. Lottery tickets. Tryouts for the high school play. The curve on an icy road. 

The difference is, in life we often we don't realize the magnitude of the situation until years later. "If I had known then what I know now..." I would have done X instead of  Y, left instead of right, Yes instead of No. Also, we don't know if there is a second chance coming. In the tournament we know there is not. In life we often expect another shot, a chance a redemption, a mulligan, forgiveness or an apology or just a kindhearted second chance. 

I need the chance to correct mistakes and errors. It is hard to even imagine a life where every day and every decision was like the tournament. No look back, no second chances. But still, that tournament is mesmerizing. 

He was indeed heir to a great fortune

 On December 16, 1922, in the evening, a baby was placed in the back seat of the car of Dr. Frank Cullen in downtown Dallas, with a note: "This boy's name is J.D. Take good care of him as he is heir to a great large fortune. His mother is in great trouble and can't keep him now. You will be watched. Put him in a good orphan's house if you don't keep him. I am coming back after him when I can. I have your no. Anything you do for him you will be made rich." 

The baby was placed by his biological mother, an unwed girl of 19, named Josephine. The baby was my Dad. 

This note was the first thing I read when I opened the files of  case 4014 of Hope Cottage Orphanage in Dallas. I finally had in my hands the file my dad always wanted to see, but never did, the story of his adoption. It answered many questions about his birth and circumstances and of course created new ones. "Why this?" and "Who is that?" But that is a writing for another time. The intimate details of the circumstances that led Josephine to do what she did are lost to time and passed with her death in the late 1980's. 

My father was adopted by Thomas and Elizabeth Welch of Goliad, Tx.  Elizabeth told the story many years later of a long train ride to Dallas, and an appointment at Hope Cottage. All references and paperwork in order, she was escorted into a room with 28 babies in cribs. 

"Pick one", was the simple instruction that would change so many lives. And she did. She picked the one with the bluest eyes and the biggest smile, the one who cried when she walked away from his crib. He was named Thomas Benjamin Welch, Jr., after his new father. 

He grew up in small town Texas in the 1920's and 30's. Played football, was in the band. Had a little sister, Ada Sue, the long desired biological child of Tom and Elizabeth. In his youth he suspected he was adopted, which was confirmed when an aunt left him off a family tree. He wrote years later, "I was nonplussed - numb and rooted to the floor and couldn't have moved if I had tried." 

He left high school in 1941 before graduating. War was brewing. That spring he enlisted in the Navy and in the summer found himself on the USS Neosho headed for Pearl Harbor. By a twist of fate or fortune he was out of harm's way on December 7th. As he told it to me, he was not there, but "close by". 

He was in the Navy for six years. During this time he was drawn deeper to his Christian faith. In a hospital bed in Australia, he confided to a nurse that after the war he wanted most of all to be a minister, but didn't think he'd be a very good one. She thought the idea was wonderful and fitting and encouraged him during his weeks of recovery from an injury. Her name, like many others in this story, is lost, but to her lasting credit, she pushed him to hang on to this dream.   

After the war he spent his last months at the Navy Yard in Chicago. He was discharged and finished his high school diploma at the YMCA while working nights as a guard at Continental Illinois Bank. (He loved to relate that "that bank never got in any trouble as long as I was guarding the vault!'). 

He returned home to Texas where he graduated from the University of Corpus Christi and Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Fort Worth. He met my mom there and they were married during the time in Fort Worth. Josephine lived in Fort Worth then as well. After she was notified of his adoption, there is no record that she ever attempted to find him. Perhaps she pictured him lost in the war, as so many men were who were born in 1922. But I also imagine that as our family gathered around his birthday cake each year with smiles and laughs and goofy presents, there was a woman in Fort Worth who always shed a tear and wondered. 

He was a pastor, and a good one. He led churches in various locations across the South, mainly Florida and the Carolinas. Always small, always paying just enough salary for us to get by (when combined with mom's salary from teaching school and giving piano lessons). But for thousands and thousands of people it was from his lips that they heard the message of Christianity proclaimed clearly and lovingly, with a gift for expressing truth that came from his heavenly Father. He was a prolific writer and left behind dozens of articles in Christian publications and hundreds of pages of notes, essays, musings and outlines on faith that his descendants will cherish. 

He had three sons and though he left this earth much younger than we wanted, at 76, he lived long enough to know all of his four grandchildren very well. 

Elizabeth Welch was certainly pleased at the choice she made when called on to "pick one". Josephine must have always wondered, but never knew, of the man who grew from the baby she believed she had to let go. She would have been very proud. 

In the note she left behind, Josephine scratched out "great" and claimed the boy was heir to a "large" fortune. Like many things in the story, this is puzzling. What caused that little scratch of a line and a quick change. A passing thought, perhaps, "I have to be quick, but I want to get this note just right". Call it large, call it great, but one hundred years later it now rings so very true. It was a fortune indeed. One of faith, family and friendships. A legacy that I am heir to, as are all his offspring and everyone who ever felt the warmth of his smile and the shake of his hand. 

From a blanket in the back seat of a car, from the arms of a troubled teenager, from the arms of a kindly doctor, from the protection of an orphanage... to the arms of a new mother, to the call to arms of a nation, to the cuddly arms of grandchildren. What a life. And now he knows. 

 

I got my China (or is it UK) flu shot

Like you, I have been checking the availability of China flu shots. I have a list of governments, hospitals, pharmacies and sporting goods stores that claim access to the cure and browse their websites off and on during the day. 

430 am yesterday morning I checked the website of a pharmacy, in the outside chance that a vaccine would be available. To my surprise I found that 30 miles north of here there would be a vial of the magic juice waiting for me at 9:30 am. 

The process was simple. I gave one of the pharmacists my insurance card and took a seat.  My name was called and I was met with a nice smile by an attractive 40ish woman who was about to change my life. She introduced herself. I replied, "I have been waiting a year to meet you. I knew you were out there somewhere." She giggled. 

Now that she has altered my DNA and the microchip implanted, the government will be able to watch me even better. The tracking device installed in the Student Union of Southwest Baptist College in 1976, during the swine flu panic, has outlived its effectiveness. Oink. 

I hope the government does a better job of tracking me in the future than in the past. I made a lot of mistakes and had some crazy ventures that I would have expected a kind and loving government to prevent. Such as .... lottery tickets, hoarding incandescent light bulbs, changing planes in Atlanta, selling naked call options, getting mad at Rocko, my members only jacket, my teal phase, unfiltered Lucky Strikes, that Chevy Chevette, John Anderson for President, the death of Buster the hamster, and on and on. 

On the 57th anniversary of the birth of my brother.

I am doing some genealogy work. Ora Asa Butler, a minister in New York state, was my fifth great-grandfather and died in 1811. Like my youngest brother he died at a relatively early age. As I read his obituary I could not help but think of my brother. The author had a wonderful command of the English language that still holds beautiful meaning, 210 years after it was written. 

"...it pleased the Lord to call him, in the midst of his usefulness, to rest from his labors, to the great grief of the church, and of his numerous brethren and friends. 

...it has pleased a righteous God to call us to mourning. Our dear brother has been called from this militant state, to join, as we humbly trust, the saints in glory. 

He died of a painful disorder but his soul appeared full of glory. He left a striking proof of the power of Divine grace to comfort and support in a dying hour."  

Flowing through these four sentences is the idea that the pain and suffering of the righteous can bring glory to God. Not in a way that we understand, or like, or can ever figure out. Sometimes we get it, often we do not. But He can and does use it, of that we can be certain. He promises us a day when all of this will come crashing down and he will gather his followers and "wipe every tear from our eye". 

On my second reading of Les Miserables

 I first read this book about ten years ago. I so loved the play, which I had seen many times, that I knew I must read the book. Having done so, I got rid of it, thinking the length made it unlikely I would read it again. This is generally my practice. Books I like I will keep for several years, but if they are only decorations on a shelf and never opened again, they are sent to Goodwill. Really bad ones that I would not want to tote there end up in the trash. I only keep books that I re-read or refer to, or bear some sentimental attachment to the giver or previous owner. 

This year for some reason I felt  a desire to re-read Les Miserables. The main character, Jean Valjean, is one I certainly am drawn to, in a fashion. But the antagonist, Inspector Javert, also draws me deeper into the story. I relate to them both, could see myself enjoying dinner with both, and am attracted to the evolution of their souls as portrayed by Hugo. 

This passage struck me, from the Section Cosette,  Book V, Chapter 5: 

    "Jean Valjean had this trait, that he might be said to carry two knapsacks - in one he had the thoughts of a saint, in the other the impressive talents of a convict. He helped himself to one or the other as occasion required."

Coincidentally, until recently I had two knapsacks in my closet. I wonder which one I discarded.

How was I so gullible...

 

Moby Dick

 I finished reading this book yesterday. My version has 377 pages. The White Whale does not show up until page 357. Most of the book is spent on excruciating details of the types of whales, ships and whalers. Everything from which whale is best for what type of oil to which artist of whaling scenes best captures the moment. Everything you wanted to know and many things you did not. I wondered, "Why is this book considered a classic?". 

I see the value as a historical piece, detailing everything one would want to know about how to catch, skin, clean, make oil, and the like. You are schooled on the many professions that depended on the whaling business, how to outfit a ship, hire a crew, finance the voyage, etc. It increased my understanding of what that life was like at that time and at that place. 

Interesting, yes. Readable for those of an era gone by, absolutely. A great piece of literature, no. The folks at Penguin books place it #1 on their list of ten greatest American novels. Eggheads.  Stereotypically, they call it "a metaphor for America's post 9/11 foreign policy" Nope, not the version I read, not the country I live in.    

I would recommend it to anyone who 1) lives in Nantucket and wants to learn about the history of the area 2) aspires to go into the whaling business 3) is interviewing for a job at Penguin books.  

2020 Not much traveling going on

 There were plenty of day trips around the state, but for real travel I was limited to Missouri and Tennessee. The former to see my son and his family, the latter for a family reunion. 

Places where I spent the night: Victoria and Minneapolis, MN, Webster Groves, Kirkwood, and Brentwood, MO, Knoxville and Roan Mountain, TN.

Thoughts on 2020

The overwhelming majority of people will not write one word about this year. The memories will fade and we will all fall into a collective shared fable of what this life was like. Of the writings of my grandparents and great-grandparents, not one reference to the Spanish flu of 1918 has survived. I have no idea what that time was like for them. So this is for posterity, my thoughts on life during the China flu of 2020. 

As I write this it is about one year since the flu virus first arrived in the US. It is about one month since the vaccine was approved by the FDA. It is about ten months since the government started imposing restrictions on public gatherings, masks, etc. 

For the most part, things were not that bad for me. Actually they were quite good. I welcomed two new grandchildren into the world, saw the Cardinals and Twins in Spring training, boated a lot, read many good books, learned a lot about the geography of Africa, prayed much more than in the prior year, saved some money, drove from Victoria Minnesota to Roan Mountain Tennessee, and welcomed a future son-in-law into the family circle, witnessed the entry of my son into the Catholic Church. I went to the dentist twice, the dermatologist once, my eye doctor once and my family doctor once. I got good reports from all of them. For those of us who are retired, and who planned well for retirement, things were pretty darn good.  We finished an addition on to our house. I got all of our old VHS tapes digitized. My children did not lose their jobs and my youngest successfully got a better job and launched her career in physical therapy. I wrapped up most of my responsibilities as trustee and executor of my brother Kevin's estate and trust. 

I think that day to day our lives were not as bad as we pretend them to be. Apart from those who actually got the virus and suffered through all of that, all of my friends had a pretty good year. We had some inconveniences, but in the span of human history they were very very very minor. We did not get to see relatives and friends as often as we would like, but go back in time 150 years and you will find that your great-great grandparents spent much of their lives in relative isolation, working 12-14 hour days. I did not get to be at the hospital when my grandsons were born, which I would have so loved, but turn the clock back a few dozen decades and there would have been no hospital and men would have taken no break from work while the women anguished in childbirth. I had visits from friends cancelled but I had the ability in my home to see them live on a screen like a television. 

There will be lots of whining and second guessing about what the government did or did not do. A few thoughts on that. It is surprising that we have a vaccine as quick as we do. Some credit should go to the current president for clearing the path for companies and scientists to make this happen. He threw a lot of money at the problem. In time we will see that much of it was wasted, but a lot of it was not and that helped get the vaccine out quicker. 

It appears that the president, who is a very combative person, did not do enough to clear a path to distributing the vaccine once it arrived. He was not nice to people who disagreed with him. He left too much to individual states. The government had a full year to figure out how to get this distributed and has not done very well so far, or so it seems. There are stories as I write this about vaccines sitting in cold storage awaiting use. Perhaps that is true, perhaps not. 

The next president will do much better. He believes in the federal government and will take more of a hard line to make people take the vaccine. He will compromise, cajole, bend and twist arms and get this thing taken care of. He will push a federal plan and will stop the silliness of states like Minnesota that have advisory panels to advise the governor on why their favorite disadvantaged group needs the vaccine the most. He will do it in a way that causes us to think collectively, as fellow citizens, about how to solve the problem, and not as individuals entitled to some special treatment. We will like it. 

There were some minor personal impacts. We were made to wear masks in public. I did not like this but went along with it. (The President did not like masks and set the example that people should not wear them. Some people said the mask came to be seen as a political sign. If you wore one it meant that you did not like the president. This is myth, in my view. Most people simply believed the President's opinion was wrong and chose to play it safe and wear a mask. Most of his supporters ended up wearing masks and were somewhat irritated that he chose not to). I spent the night in only three states: Minnesota, Missouri and Tennessee. Normally I would travel to a dozen or so. I stocked up on a few things that I would normally not have around, bullets and whiskey. You never know how crazy things are going to get. 

We did not get to go to church as much as we would have liked. Initially here, services were limited to around 10-25 people. That did not last long as the Catholic Church made it clear that they would not abide by so severe a restriction on worship. Most protestant churches agreed with the Catholic Church on this. Distribution of the Eucharist was changed drastically, with the precious blood of Christ restricted to the priest and deacon only, in many churches. While receiving the body alone was wondrous, and no less miraculous, it still did not seem the same. Priests were behind plexiglass walls for distribution at some churches. It was pretty weird. There were lots of outdoor services, which I did not like and did not attend. 

At my gym I tried to find times to go when no one else would be there. But when they changed the rules to make people stay 12 feet apart and wear a mask while exercising, I gave up. No way you can run laps around a track or on a treadmill with a mask on. Can't get enough breath, just bad in every way. 

Professional and college sports were severely curtailed. No crowds in the stands, coaches wearing masks, etc. Made the whole spectacle much less interesting. I watched sports much less. Many events cancelled. 

It was a year of racial strife, a topic outside the scope of this blog. I have nothing more to add to what has already been said. I do not have any insight that would be of any help to the reader. My opinion on what transpired is evolving.    

As we enter the second year of this lockdown I will read a lot and work on some other hobbies. I have a couple of projects to consider. Perhaps 2021 will be better in some ways, but in may others ways will be hard to beat. Don't think I will be getting two new grandchildren this year but it's only January. If I can get all the current crew to Roan Mountain in September, that will be good indeed. 

The books I read in 2020

Perhaps I read more books in 2020 than any other year. All of those listed below are good, and worth reading again, except for those at the end, which were mainly a waste of time.  The best ones? Probably The Great Divorce, which I have probably read a dozen times.  One drop in a Sea of Blue gave me a new perspective on the life of soldiers in the Civil War and fighting both humans and the elements for four years. By What Authority is an excellent defense of the spiritual authority that God has bestowed upon the Catholic Church, and only the Catholic Church. It dives deep without losing the reader. The worst book I read was One Hundred Years of Solitude. It is a great example of how a poorly written book can achieve international acclaim when  tapped by the hip intelligentsia.  

Worth reading Again Essays of a Catholic - Hilaire Belloc The Spiritual Combat and A Treatise On Peace of Soul - Dom Lorenzo Scupoli The Imitation of Christ - Thomas a Kempis Say Nothing-A true story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland - Keefe The Catechism of the Catholic Church St. Ignatius of Antioch - The Epistles One Drop in a Sea of Blue, The Liberators of the Ninth Minnesota - Lundstrom By What Authority?: An Evangelical Discovers Catholic Tradition - Shea Earth Abides - Stewart The People v. Clarence Darrow: The Bribery Trial of America's Greatest Lawyer - Cowen Hartland to Capitol Hill - Gunderson Pouf - Hall Rome Sweet Home - Hahn, Hahn The Church History - Eusebius The Great Divorce - Lewis In Cold Blood - Capote Hank and Jim - Eyman Ignatius Catholic Study Bible - New Testament (and all footnotes) - RSVCE Five Presidents: My Extraordinary Journey - Clint Hill The Passage of Power - Robert Caro Master of the Senate - Robert Caro Means of Ascent - Robert Caro The Path to Power - Robert Caro Practice of the Presence of God - Brother Lawrence Civil War: Volume 3 - Foote Civil War - Volume 2 - Foote The worst of the bunch: The Desert Fathers - Sayings of the Early Christian Monks Enemy of all Mankind - Steven Johnson One Hundred Years of Solitude - Marquez On his own terms: the Life of Nelson Rockefeller - R.N. Smith

Running the bases

 When was the last time I ran the bases on a ball field?

 6am on the morning of December 22nd, 2020. It is the first full day of winter and it is dark. 

A nearby neighborhood has a ball field. Rarely is it used. 

But it was on this day, in freezing temps, while on a run, when no one was looking, this 64 year old man, did something that would have looked odd in daylight. I ran the bases. Twice. Not just this day, but the next as well. 

It brought back memories of a sandlot in Myrtle Grove, Florida where from age 7 to 11 I spent almost every Saturday, and many weekday afternoons. There were no schedules or teams or coaches. Just some boys with a bat, weathered from hitting rocks and oyster shells across the yard, and any kind of ball. Sometimes I would walk to the field alone, lay on the grass, stare up at the clouds, and wait for someone else to show up. Eventually David Cosson or Karl Hoewt, my best friends, would. We called it "the field" and ignored the claims of Tonya Jackson that her daddy owned it and that we needed her permission to play there (even if he was the richest man on the street and our landlord). Something about that place is stuck in my memory and it seems so much bigger, as if my whole world was somehow connected to that spot of sand and centipede grass, sand burs and horned toads. 

I have been back to the neighborhood several times growing up. I believe the field is gone now, replaced by houses. Funny though, I am not certain of this. Perhaps it is that the impression from my childhood is so strong that I cannot perceive anything else there, just the familiar worn out spots in the sod where the bases go, and sandy paths that link them in our version of a diamond. 

Every kid needs a field like that. I hope that there are some children near here who see this one as I did. Who will think on it fondly in 2070 or 2080, and maybe, when no one is looking, run the bases.