The best two sentences in "A Gentleman in Moscow"

 "...just remember that unlike adults, children want to be happy. So they still have the ability to take the greatest pleasure in the simplest thing. "

from the chapter "Ascending, Alighting", page 253. 

Bookends of Life

 I am a hospice volunteer and I am a Grandfather. Thus, I spend a lot of time with the very young and the very old. The struggles of their lives seem at times similar, though that is not real.  

I want that glass of water that I see across the room. How do I get it?

I understand what you just said to me. I want to reply but I don't know the words. Or, I know the words but cannot make my mouth say them. 

I should go to the bathroom. Too late. I am embarrassed or ashamed to tell you. 

I miss that person who comes to my room. Where is he? Will she be back today? 

I wait in my room until someone takes me somewhere and tells me what to do. Sometimes I do it. Sometimes I don't. 

It seems to you quite boring that I spend so much time staring out the window. I am learning, retaining, not retaining, thinking. thinking. 

The single best sentence in Anna Karenina

 "Then it was that he first clearly understood what he did not realize when leading her out of the church after the wedding: that she was not only very close to him but that he could not now tell where she ended and he began." Volume II, Part V, Chapter XIV.

I suppose that after 20 or so years of marriage I would have understood this line. But after forty six years I can begin to relate to it. Begin. Deeper than understanding. 

It was well worth a thousand pages of this great novel to find this little jewel of prose.  

The neck tells no lies

 A conversation with my four year old grandson, Ben. Christmas 2024. 

Ben: Grandad, why do you have that turkey thing on your neck. 

Me: That's because I'm getting old. 

Ben: You ARE old. 

Me: Yes I am, I guess. 

Ben: Why do you have that turkey thing on your neck?

Me: When you get old your skin gets loose. 

Ben: But why do you have it?

Ben: You're old. 

Me: Someday you'll have one and maybe your grandson will ask you why. 

Ben: (laughs) Un Uh!

Life on the Eights

 Last week I became 68 years old. Three score and eight. My grandaddy always said "I just want my three score and ten, like it says in the Bible" He got a lot more than that.

Anyway, looking back on the eights, here goes. Roughly as I told it to my kids and their kids after blowing out 68 candles (true). 

When I was eight it was 1964. I lived in Pensacola.  3rd grade. Had a younger brother who was almost six, and a new baby brother. I think my dreams/plans in life were vaguely to 1) be a good Christian 2) Have a good family 3)Not be poor 4)Be somebody. 5) Play for the New York Yankees. Simple difficult goals. 

When I was 18 it was 1974 and I had graduated from HS and moved to St. Petersburg Florida. Sacked groceries at Publix in the Northeast Shopping Center. Started college in early 75. 

From 74-84 I sold Kirby vacuum cleaners door to door. Sold Bibles and kids books door to door. Sacked groceries. Ran a gas station at night. Maintenance crew and dining room crew in college. Landscaping. Day Camp Counselor. Sold Iinsurance. Sold Investments. 

In 1984 I was 28 and one of the toughest periods of my life, thus far, was over. The Dark Years were past. I had written my last hot check. There was a little money in the bank and I owned my first house. Finally found something I could do, which was investment stuff. Started by selling it, later managed it. I was married and my oldest child was four. This was the year I paid off my $2000 student loan, $30 at a time. Doesn't seem like much until you're three months behind and the college is getting ready to turn you over to a collection agency. I was very involved in numerous political campaigns. 

In 1994 I was 38 and lived in St. Louis. My wife Robin and I now have three children. Daughter 14, son 8, daughter 2. A good happy time. My maternal grandparents and my parents were still alive. I had earned a difficult professional designation and had some letters after my name on my business card. Since 1984 a man I knew had been elected President and I had been a delegate to the national convention of our shared political party. Robin and I went to a Christmas party at the White House.  Around this time I stopped my political stuff and focused on family and career. The Soviet Union, that nemesis that had me scurrying under my desk in grammar school, was no more

In 2004 I was 48 and lived in Minneapolis. Career events I did not anticipate sent me north. It was wonderful, eventually. By this time my grandparents and my father had died. My oldest daughter was in Law School. my son was in college and my youngest daughter was in middle school. I was traveling a lot for work and for a professional organization of the investment world. 

In 2014 I was 58 and lived outside Minneapolis, on a lake and thinking about retirement. My son was married and I was a grandfather. My youngest brother had just finished year one of a five year war against cancer. 

In 2024 I am 68. My three children are all happily married. I have 5 grandchildren. I am even more happily married than my children for I have been able to convince a wonderful woman to stay with me for 45 years!!! I have joined the Catholic Church. I am retired. I play the banjo. My youngest brother has died of cancer (One might say the cancer beat him. Welcomed into the glory of his heavenly Father, I doubt he would put it that way.) As I write this I am canning green beans from my garden. 

Eclipse

 Saw the eclipse on April 8th. Cape Girardeau, Missouri. Amazing. No clouds. Clear sky. Totality for 4+ minutes. 

The advice on viewing was constant. 'Don't look at it or you'll go blind". This is true but something in me wanted to look at it, just to be sure. And so did my four year old grandson, Ben. Like his granddad, he did sneak a peek, but just a quick one and survived, as did I. 

Something about the way that advice is given. You are only told not to stare at the sun when an eclipse is upcoming. I guess that means that we assume people are smart enough on normal days, but somehow turn stupid under the power of the eclipse. 

On a bright sunny day, Moms of the current age might call out to their kids, "put on sunscreen", "don't stay out too long", "drink plenty of water", (in the 60s they said none of these) but she will never cry "Don't Stare at the Sun!!!"

A Gift from a two year old

 Johanna - This week you let me put you to bed. I wanted to and you did not object. What I really expected was for you to point to your Grandmother. Almost always this is what your brother and cousins would do. But you just went to my arms as if this was the most normal thing. We read both nights, The Lady with the Aligator Purse and Fox in Sox. Each three times. 

The most wonderful part was when it came time to rock you and sing to you. You nestled in my arms as I sang Jesus Loves Me, over and over. I thought of all the times I had held my own children in this wondrous routine. I felt your love and trust and comfort in my arms. I don't have good words for this. To be at your home, to be surrounded by one you trust and have the beginnings of this feeling we call love. To know the comfort that comes when fully cradled in the arms of a grandfather. 

Perhaps it will not happen in this life, but there will come a time when I will once again know this peace. I have long forgotten what this is like, but if there is any good in me, the seeds were planted at times like this. When my Dad, or my Grandad, or my mother held me. When my whole world loved me. It will come again. 

The things I do when my wife is out for the week

 1. Put dishes in the dishwasher without washing them first

2. Set the thermostat where I want it

3. Keep the TV on hoops all day

4. Leave house with the TV on

5. Watch Sharknado 2

6. Turn the living room into a banjo studio/sports center

7. Refreeze meat I've thawed to cook and then changed my mind

8. Eat her snacks

9. Drink too much coffee

10. Shave on the couch while watching hoops

11. Miss her

Independence Days Remembered Part II

In looking back over the years the thing that stands out from my youth is the absence of big fireworks displays. Growing up in Florida I do not recall ever going to a big fireworks event ever. That was something we saw on TV, but never in person. It's not that we didn't go, it just didn't happen. There were plenty of sparklers and firecrackers, cherry bombs and M80s, buzzing things and flying things, things that exploded and things that soared. But none of the really big stuff. 

Thus, I have no big kid memories of the 4th. Except for the time that Bill Leap and I soaked a bunch of cattails in gasoline and lit them as torches. I was about 13 or so. We soaked them for a week and they made a nice display in his back yard. 

Others. As an adult around 1982 I helped fire off the big stuff for the Pine Bluff Arkansas Jaycees event. It was fun launching them and seeing the fear and excitement on the face of my toddler daughter. 

Mid 90s. Richmond Virginia, with friends. One of the kids got sick, I recall. 

Mid 90's St. Louis. Watching at eye level from a conference room in the Boatmen's Bank building with colleagues and our families. 

2005 Approx. Lake Minnetonka. Excelsior Minnesota. Nice display and I remember the traffic and parking being not near as bad as expected. 

2010 I was in Buenos Aires on July 4th. Odd to be somewhere when this is just another day. 

2022 I better be able to remember last year's. Watched a nice display sitting in the back of my now gone Ford F150 with my wife. Parking lot of target store in Waconia, MN. 

Note: As I was writing this I recalled writing a similar post in the past. Here it is. https://midnightdiner.blogspot.com/2011/07/independence-days-remembered.html

Tranquility in the Airport Lounge

 Amex Lounge, Minneapolis Airport. 

Tranquility to me is simply being in a place that you don't want to leave. An airport lounge is usually not such a place. But on this day I am sitting alone, writing, drinking coffee, watching the day unfold undisturbed. I am on a trip to  Charlotte to wrap up a family business matter. It is without controversy or messiness. It is unfolding just as it was supposed to. Nearby are people to assist me with my travels but they keep their distance and are silent. If you were sitting across from me I would speak this now: "I could stay here all day". 

So as I write I am draw to other times and places when I had this same sort of sense, that temporary well-beingness. I know this will pass but it was worth the wait. This overwhelming desire that the day last very very long. 

Other times...

Once when sitting in the parking lot of a Best Western in Oregon. Cigar and crossword puzzle in hand. Why this always comes to mind is lost to me. 

An evening with good friends at Cajun's Wharf restaurant in Arkansas. 1980's. 

Fishing with my oldest daughter in the dawn of her adulthood. 

On the couch with my wife, watching the snow fall. Any winter. 

Listening to Jack Buck call a Cardinals game. Cigar. Back deck of my brother Kevin's house. Early 2010s. 

Driving across the Flint Hills region of Kansas with my youngest daughter. 

Throwing a baseball with my son, mid 90s, our back yard, 8pm. 

Roan Mountain State Park, When I am the only one there. 

Jackson Square, New Orleans. Cafe DuMonde. Early Morning. Katrina aftermath. 

Cornbread and Buttermilk and the unrolling of stuff

 When I was in my early teens or so my grandfather tried to feed me cornbread and buttermilk. Crumbled it in a tall glass and poured cold buttermilk over it.  Handed it to me, "try it, nothin better than cornbread and buttermilk." In my teens through present day, this seems a disgusting combination. I could take either separately, but not the combination. Like mustard and ice cream, Japan and Korea, Abraham and Mary Todd Lincoln, lobstermen and opera - cornbread and buttermilk were two of God's gifts best left separate.

Yet, it is taxing to resist the touching of a family tradition. Doing things my grandparents did, and their grandparents did, has always had appeal. Not something of power or magic or mystical source of strength. Yet a thing with purpose that I often feel I should do. The past matters, my past, my ancestors past, my grandchildren's past. When I can touch it in some way that is not make-believe I do. 

It is Holy Week. My wife is in Arkansas, chasing tornadoes and siblings and the offspring of siblings. 

I made a pot of soup beans a few days ago. They are only available to me at times such as this. Solitary times. 

I also made cornbread, of course, to go with the beans. Used corn meal and Martha White flour and all the usual components. Baked it in my great grandmother's iron skillet. I had one hot slice after another, big wedges covered with butter, or mashed into a bowl of beans. While cleaning up I stared at the cornbread leftovers and a half quart of buttermilk, sitting side by side on the kitchen counter. I heard the voice of my ancestor, Houston Blevins, my mother's father, speaking a simple truth with his mouth full, drippings on his chin, "You ever had cornbread and buttermilk? Honey, it's good! "

After 50 or so years of resistance, I caved. Like the chicago cubs in August my strength of will faded before the still clear memory of his voice. 

If there is a Cornbread Church, this was the day I saw the light. The scales fell off my eyes. The sea parted, the rain stopped, the dove flew away, the fire fell and the lady turned to salt. This is day I walked the aisle and said "sign me up, and give me some more of that mountain stuff". 

That good mountain stuff. That good mountain stuff. 

Visions and Dreams and Johanna

 A note to my grandaughter who came to the earth on 3 March 2022. 

I may name my banjo after you, we'll see. I have been trying to contrive a name for it. It has five strings and you are my fifth grandchild. That is a stupid connection but it's all I have. 

Before you were born I was at your house, seeing your brother and checking on your mom. She was a day or two away from going to the hospital for your birth. As I was leaving she pulled me close in a hug and said, "Dad, would you say a prayer for me?". I stood there in the entryway, among a stroller, winter boots, scarfs with the woman I first held as a tiny baby decades ago. 

I don't know exactly what I prayed for that day when I put my arms around your mom. It was a bit about her and a bit about you. But I do know this. All of the deep things I have ever wanted for my daughter were realized in that little hall. My little girl, when deep into womanhood, asked me to pray for her. To that same Lord that she worshipped as a toddler. That is what I wanted when I first held her, when I first whispered the name of our Lord in her tiny ear. That when I was old that she would hold as tightly to Christ at 40 as she did at 4. As I was driving home I had this sense that every dream I ever dreamed and every prayer I ever prayed for her had been answered in that moment.  

On the 5th day of March, when you were two days old I held you for the first time. Like your mother, the first word you heard from my lips was "Jesus". The first time you felt my hand, it was to trace the sign of the cross on your forehead. 

Johanna, your safe arrival on earth was an answer to many prayers. Many more prayers are being lifted up for you now. It is my deep desire that when your mother and father are my age, that they will thank God for the faith they see in you. That does not waver. That does not tremble. 

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. 

 

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". 

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. 

What I wanted and What I got. Ribs and blizzards.

I wanted snow. I wanted a white Christmas. Looks like I'm going to get them both. But what if I had known that to get snow meant I would not see family today. That December 23rd would be one more day of China Flu isolation. Flights cancelled. Loved ones who were 500 miles away are still 500 miles away when they should now be in my living room. 

They'll get here eventually, but not today. Right now I should be watching Georgia Southern and Louisiana Tech in the New Orleans Bowl with my son, or walking out on a frozen lake with my granddaughters. 

Yesterday it was 45 F and I was smoking ribs in my backyard. Today it is around 20, the wind is howling, and the snow is traveling horizontally. 

Had I known the tradeoff, and been given a  choice, I would have passed. 

But, a word on the ribs. When smoking in winter managing the heat in the smoker can be a challenge. We have a tendency to get the box too hot or too cold, especially when a good stiff wind accompanies the cold temps. yesterday I had temps as low as 150 and as high as 325, but close to that magical 200 most of the time.  

The seasoning. Allegro Marinade. The greatest marinade in the world. Generally I don't use them. I like to smoke meat with only salt and pepper and put my full skills on display, not mask them with sauces and rubs. "Let the meat speak for itself" I like to say. But every once in a while you need to do something different, so this time the ribs were marinated for 24 hrs in Allegro. 

Had the weather cooperated, my son and I would be watching that game while snacking on some leftover ribs. Instead, I've got em all to myself. Here's to silver linings behind the clouds of this blizzard!

Deep Thanksgiving

Sometimes there are thanks we want to offer that we just don't have right words for. 

In my family this week we had some wonderful health news but it's not my place to say who it was or the condition. It was something that could have been horrible but was not.

Had the news been bad I would have just fallen to my knees pleading for a miracle. The news was good and I find the rejoicing so difficult to verbalize. I have lots of words when I ask God for something. When prayers are answered it's hard to move beyond "thanks". I don't have all the words to say what it is that I want to express. Everything comes out sort of the the same way, a weak feeble, "thanks". Granted, sometimes they are all caps and shouted with joy, other times just whispered. 

When the words don't come, we must be content just to be in the presence of God. To seek to be constantly mindful of his wonderful gifts. To contemplate his power as much in thanksgiving as in supplication. Teach me to be truly grateful O Lord. Every single moment. Right now. 

In Romans 8:26 the Apostle Paul puts a light on the incompleteness of our prayers. The English Standard Version translates his words beautifully. "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words."

This has indeed been a day for groanings. It is also a day to ponder, "What if we had not prayed?"

My church was closed today

 My Catholic church was closed today. I needed it to be open. 

Before the pandemic it was open everyday, all day. It has a small beautiful chapel that is a wonderful place to pray, to be in the presence of God, to step out of the secular and into the divine. 

Now it is open about half of the days. Not on Wednesdays apparently. I was born on a Wednesday and have found it to often be a day when one is much in need of Christ. No less so than other days.  

Undeterred, I walked over to the large crucifix and knelt and prayed there. It is outside, so not subject to keys and locks and chimes and light switches and hvac units and other instruments that rule inside buildings. 

Lord please hear my prayer this day for one so close and dear to me. 

Marriage and a book

Sometimes you read a book and love each page. Others you just slog through. I just finished "One hundred years of Solitude", which is supposedly one of the great novels of the last century. It is not. No Sir. 

It has one passage near the end that makes all the drudgery preceding it worthwhile. It describes a trait of a good marriage. "... they enjoyed the miracle of loving each other as much at the table as in bed, and they grew to be so happy that even when they were two worn-out old people they kept on blooming like little children and playing together like dogs. "

Thoughts on the birth of my grandson, Benjamin

 What a wonderful blessing to welcome a second grandson this summer.

While you are not the first, you are the son of my son, and that makes you special and distinct. Being the father of a son is very different than being the father of a daughter (to state the obvious) and there will be a special set of joys you will bring to your family.  

I have not yet held you, that is several days away. But when I do I will be drawn back to that day when I held your dad for the first time. How wonderful it was, as a man, to hold this small future man in my hands. The first word I will whisper in your ear will be the name of our Saviour, and I will make the sign of the cross on your forehead. Perhaps some day you will be as fortunate as I and will do the same with your child and grandchild, please do. 

How blessed you are to be born to this man and woman. They love you so much and will raise you up to be a true son of our Father. Your sisters will meet you today for the first time and they will get another glimpse of true love as new feelings for you immediately spring forth inside them. 

So much is running through my head as I think about you. I try and picture you as a young man, but that is so difficult. You are a big baby so I imagine you as a big kid and a big man. Ahead lie the St. Louis Cardinals, long hot days at the ball park, other afternoons on some ball field with a team of friends, nights alone studying schoolwork, riding a bike, climbing a tree, driving a car. Each good thing making you more and more into the type of person you should be. 

 It is easy to think about all the troubles in this world and the many trials you will face, but for now I have to set that aside and simply thank God that you are here. I am thankful for your parents and their love for each other. I am thankful for the wisdom I see in them as they raise your sisters. 

Your family needs you. How and in what way, we don't know. But we know their family is already bigger and better and more complete because of you. There will be things about you that make your mom and dad better parents. There will be ways you make your sisters better young women. When the time comes for them to marry, if you become the young man I think you will, they will think often about the best things about you and your dad, and they will want to marry someone who is a bit like both of you. 

As you sleep in the arms of your mother, you are the image to us of the beauty of creation. You are now with her as we should all be with our heavenly Father, totally dependent, unable to do a single thing on your own behalf. Like us at so many times, you are also unaware of the goodness that rains down upon you. Unaware and thus unable to offer thanks for the nourishment and warmth and blessings that surround you. 

Soon you will be baptized into His Church and the grace of our Lord will pour upon your soul. It will be the start of your walk with Him who will guide you always. How great is the love of our Lord for you, that he called you to life at this time and place. 

Remember me in your prayers, as I will for you. God bless you Benjamin Brooks, and preserve you in his Holy arms.