Friday, April 4, 2025

Perchance to Answer

Me Grandpa Joe had a welder rental business which me Pops by and large ran. Dad frequently spoke about two calls. One he refused on principle, the other he nearly refused on a different principle, but took. 

One large company would only call Joe Cosgriff Welding Machine Rentals on weekends, and I mean late on weekends. They'd call at, oh, 11 PM on a Saturday night, all in a dither over some presumed emergency. Joe would grumble, but dutifully take the order and fill it, delivering whatever in the wee hours of a Sunday.

He happened to be out of town one weekend. That company called, and me Pops answered. He refused the rental. "You call somebody else during regular hours but us at off hours. We're not doing business that way," Dad blithely explained to the company rep.

Pops worried a bit what Joe would think, but grandfather sided with his son. Say what you want about Joe, and much can and has been said, when he delegated authority to Pops he never questioned what Dad did. Joe figured, "I told him to run it, so I gotta let him run it."

Another time we were in a recession, and business was bad. That wouldn't stop Joe from taking his trips, so he decided one day to go off on an adventure. Dad, of course, took over.

He took a call from a very large company (you would recognize it but I won't tell you, just for safety's sake, discretion being the better part of valor) who were notorious for being slow to pay. Me Pops did not like dealing with them. Yet they wanted ten machines asap and there wasn't much other work. Dad opted to take the chance and fill the order, which ballooned into almost every one of the welders Joe owned at the time. At the height of the job, they had 210 units rented.

And, they paid promptly. "I'm glad I took that call!" Dad would say in telling the story. I know Joe did not question his decision on that one.

Thursday, April 3, 2025

On A Friday Afternoon

Death on a Friday Afternoon by Fr. Richard John Neuhaus is the most recent book that I've read. I haven't read another book since, having finished it in January. I don't know that there's another book worth reading, quite frankly. Nothing that I've picked up since has held my attention. This is not hyperbole, nor overstatement. The bottom line fact of the matter is that I've never been so shaken or so profoundly upended by anything else I've read, seen, or heard.

I want very much to talk about the book. Several times I've began to write about it and abandoned the attempt. Today I have resolved to try finally to put my impressions to words.

Until recently I thought I had a pretty clear understanding of Christianity in general and my own Catholicism in particular. Yet now, all that seems incredibly wrong. Not that I am no longer Catholic nor because I lack faith in religion or the Church, but because Neuhaus simply laid down arguments so compelling they leave my spirit in wonder. I'm almost ashamed of the childishness which passed for thought in me all these 65 years.

Neuhaus emphasizes the last words of Christ while on the Cross and what they might - almost what they must, but we have to be careful about putting our meaning into Our Lord's words, as even he concedes - and why they're so important. He urges the reader to spend some time on Good Friday at the foot of the Cross with Jesus, and not to rush to Easter so quickly, especially so that we consider His words as He was nailed to a tree.

Christ had to die, you know. That's something we tend to ignore, or at least brush past. The imagery is too disturbing. But He had to die to make right all the wrongs in the world. We can't do it, we humans. At our poor level of understanding we can't fully comprehend evil and as such can't fix things. "Father, forgive them, they know not what they do," Jesus begs on our behalf as He hangs there dying. Someone who knows completely what must be done has to do the job of atonement - at-one-ment, Neuhaus says - because things must be made right. It's simple justice.

But I do not do the book justice. So many things Neuhaus says are simply gems of theology which never occurred to me before. Some are more compelling in the human sense. To give an example, we generally see the Cross as very tall and intimidating. Yet Neuhaus asserts that it was about seven foot high; His Mother Mary and St. John the Apostle were almost at eye level with Him at the foot of the Cross. When Jesus says, "Woman, behold thy son...Son, behold thy mother," He was speaking directly to them in every sense.

Neuhaus comes dangerously close to supporting universalism, the idea that everyone will eventually be saved. I would never have given universalism the time of day before reading this book. I am still skeptical about it. But Neuhaus never says that universalism must be true, only pointing out that God works in whatever way God wants to work, and that we should be careful about assigning imperatives to Him. As such, and despite my philosophic doubts (I think it is fair to ask why we're put through any trials at all if we're to end up in the same place, though I do think that there may be a proper response to that), I am open to the idea that we may live in the hope that all find Heaven. That's a thought I would never have entertained not that long ago.

At times I had to stop reading because I was too teary-eyed to continue. We tend to think of evil as murder and theft and all those things covered by the Ten Commandments, but that isn't the whole of it. The young child who dies of leukemia - that's an evil. It must be made right. We can't take on the depth of that evil. Yet God can, by making it possible for that child to be reborn in the Great Glory of Heaven. Christ had to die because someone had to bear the stain of all evil. All evil.

And He gave himself up so willingly. Why didn't He call legions of angels to save Him from human clutches? Because it wouldn't have served justice. It would not save that child from illness, nor make up for it. It would have only brought glory to the god-man. But what good is there really in a god saving himself? Such a being would be above the world, not in it, and thus looking out for himself, not us. The Christian God insists He's here for us.

What may have hit me hardest reading Death on a Friday Afternoon was a quote Neuhaus used late in the book. It was from a hymn I sang in high school choir, the words of which always have stuck with me:

Those dear tokens of His Passion,
Still His dazzling body bear!
Cause of endless exaltation,
to His ransomed worshippers!
With what rapture, with, what rapture!
Gaze we on those glorious scars!

I can still sing it, though that would definitely not serve justice nor your ears. But the tune has stayed with me for fifty years now. It has run through my mind countlessly over those five decades. Those wounds, those scars of Christ, are the price of evil. And Christ paid it, making possible for each one of us the attainment of a greater good. 

I still fail to say how deeply this book has shook me. I think I get it now, the big, final It, the real Truth, even as doubts linger. I am in awe, I am humbled; I find a strange, exciting calm in me about what the future brings. I feel I have discovered a great clarity which is nearly beyond imagination, nearly unfathomable. 

I don't know what to think. And yet I feel a clarity of thought I never imagined possible.

Wednesday, April 2, 2025

Hey Presto

I'm sure I've said this before and I'm equally sure that every one of you out there are incredulous at the prospect. I'll go so far as to say that you probably don't believe it. Hell, I don't blame you. With my track record I don't believe I believe it myself. But it's true: I can be taught. And self taught no less.

In trying to get my writing career, such as it is, off the ground, I've resurrected a manuscript which I hadn't touched in about 15 years. When I decided to work on it I first had to find it. You know how computers are: everything's right there on your monitor or on your hard drive. If, and this is a big if, you remember how and where and under what title and form you saved it. That's when we discover HOW COMPUTERS ARE. They are literal. Very, precisely literal. Maddeningly, frightfully, disgustingly literal. A capital letter which should be small and, hey presto, your friendly Dell has no idea what the hell you're talking about.

Still, I managed to find the document. And it was blank, blanker than a Democrat's mind (insert Republican if it makes you feel better and I'm very sorry I offended you please don't cancel me) even though the word count function insisted there were more than 62,000 of them. What to do, what to do.

I selected 'copy' for the entire document, copied it, opened a new text document window and, hey presto, it appears, visible words and all, in the new window. Only rather than quote marks at the start and ending of someone speaking there were vertical lines. Again, who to do etc.

I select copy all again, copied the entire document again, pasted into an open text window of a different writing program and, wait for it... wait for it...hey presto! The entire manuscript was there, and with quote marks around spoken words and phrases.

So I can be taught. Inspiration, where do you come from? And now I get to begin submitting what will hopefully soon be another book, one of them novels we hear so much about. Hey presto, it could happen.

Tuesday, April 1, 2025

Happy Day

Uh, Happy New Year!

No, that's not right. Merry Christmas?

Happy Independence Day! Hmm; not that either.

Arbor Day! Yes, Arbor Day. Have a great Arbor Day. Go plant a tree.

Oh. Not Arbor Day. Thanksgiving? Don't eat too much Turkey!

Opening Day for baseball? No; off by about a week.

Not that? Then, then storm the Bastille! Remember the Maine and the Alamo! Fly the old Stars and Stripes for Flag Day! Remember your grandparents this Grandparents Day. Or Mom, yeah, Mom on Mother's Day! Treat her right!

Still not it? But I just know something's in the air today. Yet what?


Monday, March 31, 2025

Nerk

I'm not actually sure if that's how to spell it, but that's about how it sounds. But I've been told that the locals in Newark, Ohio say Nerk, Ohiya.

This isn't my first experience with pronunciation not matching spelling. Rutherford, North Carolina, near where a lot of my southern family live, often comes out as, roughly, Rofton or Rullaferd. George Kell, the former Detroit sportscaster who hailed from Arkansas, used to end Missouri with an A: Missoura.

I don't mean this as a criticism. We all have accents and that's just how things are. I remember about 30 years ago talking to a local in Toronto, Ontario, Canada who after a few minutes of conversation asked, "So you're from Detroit?" even though I hadn't told him. "How can you tell?" I asked in turn.

"By your accent."

I actually replied, with no ill intent and as though it were a perfectly reasonable answer, "I don't have an accent."

Of course I do. We all do. We just don't often think of it that way.

Sunday, March 30, 2025

To Forgive, and to Seek Forgiveness

For Catholics, today's Gospel reading is the famous one about the Prodigal Son. If you think like me, most folks appear to concentrate on the obstinacy of the elder son in the story without much consideration of the actions of the errant sibling.

That's not all bad. There is a great lesson in forgiveness there, as the older son needed to accept and forgive his brother. It strikes me though that few people care to delve all that far into the importance of what the actual Prodigal did. And that was precisely that he admitted he was wrong and sought forgiveness.

The implications of that are strong and warrant attention. Would his father have been forgiving if the son had not sought forgiveness? Notice I am not speaking here about dad's willingness to forgive; we can safely assume he strongly wished to do that. But did he go to his youngest son and say he forgave him while the lad was actively involved in his debauchery? No. Did he go and forgive his son while the boy was still living his life of choice, even in tending pigs? No. Yet when the child came to his senses and accepted he had sinned, and came to beg forgiveness, his father forgave immediately. Quite literally on the spot in fact.

So it strikes me that part of the lesson is that God is willing to forgive, indeed will very readily forgive, if we ask. Yet if we consciously live in ways contrary to God's will, we will not seek forgiveness. In our arrogance and self importance, in the false knowledge that we are somehow right, we will not ask. Consequently, it seems, we should not then expect it.

There will be greater rejoicing, we are taught, over one repentant sinner entering Heaven than over a hundred of the righteous crossing through the Pearly Gates. That is very much to be expected. But notice that that former sinner, that now Glorious Soul, earned his glory through his humility. He earned his glory by recognizing he was not God.

Saturday, March 29, 2025

Like A Kid Again

I've always liked my meals simple. Throw a couple of slices of bologna between a couple other slices of wheat bread and slather on some Duke's mayo and I'm set for lunch. For dinner, I'm content to toss microwaveable food on microwaveable plates and bowls and have at it in no time. Even breakfast can be very simple. Set the kettle on and boil water for instant oatmeal and I can be eating in minutes.

Yet I've discovered another easy breakfast, one designed especially for you chocolate lovers out there. Just get your favorite chocolate cereal, even the one featuring that annoying bird (all right, all right, you're cuckoo for them. We get it. Now shut up), fill a  bowl, but only put about half the milk in. Your reward is chocolate milk almost as thick a Hershey bar when you're done. All that glorious chocolate just sinks right down into the milk. 

Chocolate overload. It's not just for breakfast anymore. But it tastes best then.