For Your Consideration

The late Bishop Fulton J. Sheen once said, and I paraphrase, "there are not 100 people in the United States who hate the Roman Catholic Church, but millions hate what they mistakenly think the Roman Catholic Church is.''

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In real life, the people who are most bigoted are the people who have no convictions at all. The economists of the Manchester school who disagree with Socialism take Socialism seriously. It is the young man in Bond Street, who does not know what socialism means, much less whether he agrees with it, who is quite certain that these socialist fellows are making a fuss about nothing. The man who understands the Calvinist philosophy enough to agree with it must understand the Catholic philosophy in order to disagree with it. It is the vague modern who is not at all certain what is right who is most certain that Dante was wrong. The serious opponent of the Latin Church in history, even in the act of showing that it produced great infamies, must know that it produced great saints. It is the hard-headed stockbroker, who knows no history and believes no religion, who is, nevertheless, perfectly convinced that all these priests are knaves.

Bigotry may be called the appalling frenzy of the indifferent. This frenzy of the indifferent is in truth a terrible thing; it has made all monstrous and widely pervading persecutions. In this degree it was not the people who cared who ever persecuted; the people who cared were not sufficiently numerous. It was the people who did not care who filled the world with fire and oppression.

-G. K. Chesterton in Heretics

We meet again. At the turn of the tide. The great storm is coming, but the tide has turned.

A brief story for your consideration:

Today, Red returned to our work site. Some of you loyal readers, the nerdiest among you (and, most likely the most handsome and beautiful) may remember Red from September, when he grabbed a live wire I found in a wall with a pair of pliers. He exclaimed, "Awwww shoot dang!" as sparks flew from the wire and set some insulation on fire inside the wall. Red returned to our work site today to hook up the plumbing underneath the home we are working on.

Let me bring you back to late August, my first day on the work site. Ross Abrams, our one time crew leader and hero and I opened up the floor of the home we are now finishing up only to discover that there was no sewer system. Rather, all the sewage ran directly under the house. The then 100 degree heat, poor ventilation, and years of sewage build up produced quite the pungent scent... it stung the nostrils. Phillip, a German volunteer who left earlier this year aptly dubbed it the "lake of sewages." Our solution at the time was to dump 2 tons of gravel upon the lake of sewages thus vanquishing it and burring it in memory and horror stories for all eternity... or so we thought.

Fast forward back to today; when the need arose for some brave individual to travel to the mountain of gravel that rests upon the lake of sewages to complete the plumbing. We had to call Red. Red reminds me of that one character from the Water boy with Adam Sandler, the coach who no one understands. Red has one of the thickest Kentucky accents I have ever heard, and thus, I understand only about 57.6 percent of the things he says. He always wears this torn and tattered Boston Red Sox hat he found in a parking lot and constantly spits apple flavored Skohl tobacco. In all honestly though, he is incredibly skilled, a hard worker, and a good teacher. I was wiring an outside light (incorrectly) and he gave me some solid advice and taught me a few things here and there along the way. A good man. He arrived on the scene and asked, "where's Ross?" We sadly told him, with sombre voice and bowed heads, that Ross had left us to go to maintenance. Red starred at us blankly, mouth open, eyes wide in disbelief that Ross could have left us once and for all. He was a man who could recognize the end of an era and the dawning of a new age. He then suited up and went under the house to plumb.

A few hours later, Red came up filthy, but successful. I was the only one inside, working on some drywall mud and shoe molding in the bathroom. Red came in and we talked a little bit about this and that. He then said something which I did not understand, "Maken ure dem vave oof". To which I replied, "Uh, yeah, haha, oh yeah ok." I of course had no idea what he said. Then he said, "I'm going to turn the water back on." He departed to go out to turn the city water back on. So I kept working. About 30 seconds later I hear this hissing sound coming from the newly installed pipes. "HISSSSSSS" it became louder and more proximate to my location. I thought, "OH, DEAR LORD" and suddenly realized, "huh, Red must have said, 'can you please turn those valves off before I turn the water on.'" Just then, water exploded from the valves in the room like Old Faithful flooding from the pipes and spraying all over the walls. I exclaimed, "SHOOT DANG" and frantically turned them off, getting completely soaked in the process. Red came back, saw me completely drenched and the soaked room and said, "....shoot dang boy." Indeed, my good fellow, indeed.

Cheers.

• Gil-galad was an Elven-king.
  Of him the harpers sadly sing:
  the last whose realm was fair and free
  between the Mountains and the Sea.
  
  His sword was long, his lance was keen
  His shining helm afar was seen
  The stars above in heaven's field
  Were mirrored by his silver shield.
  
  But long ago he rode away
  And where he dwelleth none can say
  For into darkness fell his star
  In Mordor where the shadows are.

-J. R. R. Tolkien

Ale 8

Here in Kentucky, there is a magnificent pop (soda) called Ale 8. It was created and is bottled in Winchester Kentucky and is sold mostly throughout the state. It tastes mostly like ginger ale, but with more citrus and caffeine added. It is all-together delectable and the perfect cure to a bad day. It is also, unofficially, the official drink of CAP.

Anyways, today I was reminded why I love Ale 8. We were at the gas station, and the Ale 8 truck pulled up to deliver some goods. There were 2 employees who were unloading the truck. Both had camo hats, overalls, flannel shirts, and most importantly, huge red beards! The truck was a faded orange and most likely a 1980's model. "Ale 8" was drawn on the side by hand, somewhat sloppily, and there was also a faded logo on the back gate. After a minute or two of assessing the scene, the duo caught on that they were being watched by a portly bearded fellow near the CAP truck. One of them gave me "the nod", a single movement of the head to acknowledge an other's presence in an affirming manner. It was a welcome banner of acceptance from a fellow red beard. The other, possibly seeing me as one of his own, gave me a huge and dramatic fist pump in the air. My fellow bearded brethren felt a certain zeal to greet me, something that could not be expressed in words but only by hurling a fist into the air, almost as to say, "Beards!"

Cheers.

"What puzzles the world, and its wise philosophers and fanciful pagan poets, about the priests and people of the Catholic Church is that they still behave as if they were messengers. A messenger does not dream about what his message might be, or argue about what it probably would be; he delivers it as it is. It is not a theory or a fancy but a fact. It is not relevant to this intentionally rudimentary outline to prove in detail that it is a fact; but merely to point out that these messengers do deal with it as men deal with a fact. All that is condemned in Catholic tradition, authority, and dogmatism and the refusal to retract and modify, are but the natural human attributes of a man with a message relating to a fact."

G. K. Chesterton

Many Partings

I made it down the coast in seventeen hours
Pickin’ me a bouquet of dogwood flowers...
I'm a headed out west past the Cumberland Gap
To Johnson County, Kentucky
And if I die in Raleigh, at least I will die free.

This weekend, a big group of us volunteers converged upon the Johnson House, once again, to enjoy the company of our friends in fellowship and love. There was much merrymaking, singing, storytelling, and story making. We spent our first night at the closest thing to a bar in Eastern Kentucky, the Best Western Inn lounge and dance floor! We were enjoying the smoky atmosphere, locals, loud and terrible music, as well as the expensive beer. David got a Smirnoff Ice, as he usually does, and I got a Killian's Irish Ale. Our comrades were dancing up a storm all over the place, especially when Old Crow Medicine Show's "Wagon Wheel" came on. The aforementioned quote is an excerpt from that song. David started doing the dance where you put your hands on your knees and cross them over, much in the manner of an awkward white man. The locals looked at him with a half tilted head and contorted face. Afterwards, we got the expected, "ya'll aren't from around here are yew?..." How could they tell? How can they always tell"...

My other run in with the locals happened after mass on Sunday morning. A group of 6 of us went to the early mass at a small, sleepy Catholic church called St. Luke's. After mass, which was wonderful, the locals were inviting us downstairs for some breakfast. But, we had to get back to the Johnson house to head back to our own sided of the state. Then a man approached me who was wearing a flannel shirt, suspenders, golden spectacles, no shoes, rolled up green knickers, and had a long Walt Whitman style beard. The man had a jolly, round demeanor and a loud Kentucky voice. He said, "Aw come on! We have biscuits and gravy down there...although (then points to me, reaches over and pats my belly) I don't think you need any more of that gravy do yew boy, a heh heh heh!"............To which I replied, "Uh...no, heh....." Jennie, my house mate looked shocked and pleasantly delighted at this jolly fellow's observation of my portly nature. I didn't quite know how to take it, but decided I should probably do some more push ups later tonight.

After we said our goodbyes to our friends, we headed back home to Jackson county. It was a long, extended goodbye because David Frank, one of our house mates and housing crew members was leaving us permanently, headed back to Florida and further adventures. Frank and I had developed a reputation as trouble making pranksters, or generally deviant fellows. There was the time we filled up a plastic pumpkin man with leaves and put it in Ross' bed before he came home. Or, the time we went caving and I had to carry Frank across all the watery gaps. Or there was the time we danced around the moon bow, down in McCreary County. Or the time we slept in the teepee we built over at Johnson house. Or, the time when we went out into the woods to find our Christmas tree in the snow, and ended up getting caught in thorn bushes. We couldn't find a proper tree, so we came back with a branch, singing "Oh Christmas Tree." We duck tapped the branch to a light pole, decorated it, and let the Church roll on. Or, there was the day he and I ate an entire bag of prunes in the morning and farted literally every 3 minutes throughout the day, much to the horror of Laura. I can't count how many times we ambushed Ross or Jesse late at night in the halls, how many times we wrestled in the living room, how many prank calls we made, how many stink bombs we dropped on our old crew leader, Ross man the boss man, but they were numerous. We would often rumble other housing crews from other counties, mainly Don and David Hegstrom (aka UBS man) from McCreary County. In typical David Frank manner, he started up his motorcycle to ride off into the sunset, coasted 10 feet down the hill and killed the engine. He coasted for a few more feet and fired it up again, sped away, down the hill, out of the mountains, and toward Tennessee.

It's important not to miss the people you are with while you are with them. Every person who comes into your life weaves their own part of the story of your life, as you weave your part of the story into their life. Ultimately everybody leaves, as Monseigneur says. But as Fr. Tom always said, "You still have yet to meet some of your best friends." And that is an encouraging thought. But, it is so important to love and share and laugh all you can. In terms of our work, you do all you can to help the people we serve, and then, when you say that you have done all you can do, you commend the rest of the work to be done here in to the willing hands of those who you leave behind. David's part in the CAP story has ended...for now, as each of us must come and go in the telling. But, undoubtedly, his spirit, influence, and (I fear) the smell of his flatulence shall linger here for quite some time.

Cheers.



"There are things you do because they feel right. And, they may make no sense. And they may make no money. And it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other and to eat each other's cooking and say it was good."

Sweet Home Chicago

Nothing is really going on right now...but hey, look at this.

Riddles in the Dark

What little I've accomplished has been by the most laborious and uphill work, and I wish now I'd never relaxed or looked back - but said at the end of The Great Gatsby: "I've found my line - from now on this comes first. This is my duty - without this I am nothing."
-F. Scott Fitzgerald

Merry looked out in wonder upon this strange country, of which he had heard many tales upon their long road. It was a skyless world, in which his eye, through dim gulfs of shadowy air, saw only ever-mounting slopes, great walls of stone behind great walls, and frowning precipices wreathed with mist. He sat for a moment half dreaming, listening to the noise of water, the whisper of dark trees, the crack of stone, and the vast waiting silence that brooded behind all sound. He loved mountains, or he had loved the thought of them, marching on the edge of stories brought from far away; but now he was borne down by the insupportable weight of Middle-earth. He longed to shut out the immensity in a quiet room by a fire.
-The Lord of the Rings, The Return of the King



One may get the idea, from all the hilarity and frivolity of my blog entries that every day is a wonderful fun-fest, in the marmalade forest between the make believe trees. But, often times, this is far from the case. We have been on one particular job for my entire time at CAP, and it has been properly named, "the never-ending job." Slowly, ever so slowly, we have chipped away at the mighty armor of our foe known as the never ending job. We have done: framing, all the windows, doors, electrical, plumbing, demolition, flooring, drywall, and mudding. And we still have quite a bit left to do. Ross, our crew leader and hero has abandoned us to go to maintenance and all seems dark on these early and cold days. David Frank is leaving on Sunday from our housing crew and we still have much work to be done before Christmas with a smaller crew. I feel much like Merry, longing to shut out the world of politics, drama, and bickering in a quite room by the fire. Part of the reason I came to CAP was to really lay into practical problems, like homelessness, loneliness, and despair in real settings; the unfinished home, the leaky roof, the poorly insulated walls. Like Fitzgerald, I long to lay all of my force into a task; helping people stay warmer, drier, happier. But now, I am indeed born down by the weight of Middle-Earth. Much of my time so far has been spent trying to figure out things on my own. Ross would say, "you just want to...blah blah blah" and I'd try to do it (often with mixed results). And, it has been a trying learning experience, to say the least. We, as volunteers, rely so heavily on a daily basis on prayer and union with Christ's cross. The cross itself acting as a powerful multifaceted reality, both as a path to glory and all good things, but also, at times, a backbreaking burden.
A small glimmer of hope has peeked into our tiny world. Mr. and Mrs. Black, long time friends and volunteers with CAP have ventured to us to help with our absence of a crew leader. The Blacks are amazing people. Mr. Black has worked all his life as a contractor, which rules. He has already set a lofty goal for Monica and I; remodeling the entire kitchen - cabinets, sink, a new wall...everything. He also plans on finishing the entire kitchen tomorrow. I told him I'd give it the old "college try." While I do think his ambition a bit too lofty, I welcome the challenge, and delight in the possibility. We are so glad to have them, because they can focus our efforts and keep us working toward our goal...no matter how far off it may be. To have a focus, even if it seem distant, perhaps on a far-off horizon, keeps our feet moving despite the burden.

Cheers.


"Do you know why dragons like gold? Because they can sleep on it, it makes a nice bed. Didn't you know that. That is the only reason they horde gold, so they can sleep on it. Come on, you know this!"

-David Frank

The Feast of St. Andrew

This is in St. Peter's square in the Vatican, the heart of Christendom on Earth. In the foreground is St.Paul*(thanks), but if you look in the background, the saints line the upper outer rim of the square. And who among the Church triumphant was to stand at Christ's left directly above the entrance to St. Peter's Basilica?.... oh, snap son, St. Andrew, holla at yo' boy!













This statue of St. Andrew is from the Basilica di San Giovanni in Laterano in Rome, which myself, Andy B. (Chat), Besh, and Mark visited this past summer. Holla at yo' boy!

Driving Mr. Joe

Today, a group of us ventured to Eastern Kentucky University to do a driving safety test and obstacle course for CAP. It contained two sessions. The first was in the classroom which was horribly lame and a waste of time. We learned really only one valuable piece of information; apparently, you are supposed to put your hands at 8 and 4 now instead of 10 and 2. It completely blew my mind!...Basically, we wasted 4 hours of good work to sit in this class and go over street signs and watch movies from the late 70's. I can only wonder how many hours of work are wasted on pointless meetings....at least a fourth of my work week will be.

At any rate, I partnered up with Joe, our 77 year old New Orleans friend. First off, Joe is hilarious. Second off, Joe doesn't really like to take directions at certain times. Anyway, there was this car they had called the Monster Car, that had rear wheels like shopping cart wheels. It felt as if we were constantly driving on ice. Anyways, Joe kept spinning out and yelling out, "Oh goodness gracious!" and "AAAAHHHH".... Then there was me, in the back seat, plastered up against the back window from the power of the inertia, hands spread out plastered on the glass, trying very hard not to soil myself. The driving instructor kept yelling out, "Give it some gas! Give it some gas!", he also started singing, "giiivveeee it some gasssssss" like a Pavarotti of sorts. Then we went to the truck portion of the course. Joe was doing a figure 8 and knocked down the vast majority of the cones. I watched in the side mirror as legions of orange cone soldiers fell and were flattened from the onslaught of Joe's driving. After the deed was done, Joe went to the instructor and said, "For Andy the cones stayed still, but for me, they kept moving under the car." The man, looking white as a ghost and bewildered, tried to give us some pointers, but then he wiped his brow and staggered away.

Cheers mates.

As a heads up, the feast day of St. Andrew is coming up on Friday, November 30th. St. Andrew was crucified on November 30th, 60 A.D. Under his request, he was hung on an X-shaped cross because he deemed himself unworthy of being crucified on a cross similar to that of Christ. He hung on the cross preaching the message of Christ for two days before finally dying. Just before his crucifixion, upon seeing his cross, he uttered this prayer ("O Bona Crux").

O good Cross, made beautiful by the body of the Lord: long have I desired you, ardently have I loved you, unceasingly have I sought you out; and now you are ready for my eager soul. Receive me from among men and restore me to my Master, so that he - who, by means of you, in dying redeemed me - may receive me. Amen.

"Put a Nail in it and Let the Church Roll on."

T minus 3 days of having our hero and crew leader Ross in our presence before he abandons us and goes to maintenance, thus ending the era of fun and ushering in the era of us doing things with no direction. If we don't get another crew leader, David and I have planned to just leave and go over to the Johnson House to work over there....David has also planned on joining a boy band and touring the world.

After Thanksgiving I returned up to Chicago for Joey Fitz's bachelor party. Joe's only order to us, his fleet of groomsmen, was "I don't want any naked ladies or any combination of the two." This is funny because for us, the "typical" bachelor party was out of the question...for obvious reasons. So, we spent the night in Chicago. We started out bowling at Lucky Strike. Oddly enough, it was the closest thing to a "club" that I have ever been to...like some kind of celebrity bowling club. There were even bouncers, people in leather coats, people wearing sunglasses at night, people that had clothes from express for men, people drinking Heinekin, people calling me "cat", and so on. Anyways, after the bowling, we went to Greek town, The Athena, for dinner. I had some sausage and flaming cheese, complete with the "Opa!" from our server. We then went to Rosa's blues club over on Armitage to see some blues guitar. It was my first trip to a blues club, and it was pretty much what I imagined; smoky, people looking really sad or really happy, clanging guitar, and an 80 year old Italian woman serving beer. Doug bought me some Newcastle (Nukie Brown) and we got to watch some blues guitar and harmonica. It was a little awkward though for 5 nerdy white guys to be in this blues club with old time blues players and middle-aged former 80's rock fans who listened to blues as a way to try and "stay hip". There were also a good amount of late middle aged folks "dancing all up on" each other. Which was highly awkward. This one woman even came over to Alec and I and said "Rarrooww". As a result, we decided to scamper, he to the bar and me to the bathroom to escape this strange lady. At the bathroom door (there was only one) there were 3 other nerdy fellows waiting. The bathroom was right at the front of the stage and so everyone around us was dancing and generally moving to the blues. So, in this fashion, we all tried to sway, bob our heads, and look like we knew what we were doing and that we were" experiencing" the blues I suppose. When I finally got into the bathroom, someone had scribbled on the wall, "Gunna spend all money callin' people 'honey' and wind up singing the blues". The night was capped off when all of us went to Joe's brother's to get some sleep. It reminded me greatly of a high school band trip, complete with us being totally exhausted and sleeping in sleeping bags...Doug also snored like a buzzsaw. I woke up at 6 Sunday morning to get to mass before heading back to the Bluegrass. I half expected to see Mr. Moore with a flashlight waking up the other seniors, but alas, I did not.

Back in the Bluegrass, today was far and away the best and most efficient day of work I've had since I've been at CAP. We spent the entire day on the Rader job, my favorite job of all time. I wrote of it earlier; the father is building a house entirely by himself for his wife and 4 kids who are under 9 years old. We have a goal of getting them in the house by Christmas dinner. Today we took a big step toward achieving that goal. Jesse, David, Mr. Rader and I spent the day hanging drywall and insulation. Drywall is always a wonderful task because when you're done, the rooms of the house look like actual real rooms, like in real houses that we've seen all our lives...and all you have left after drywall is finishing work and the floors. Mr. Rader and I worked as a team and Jesse and David worked as a team, and we finished probably and eighth of the entire house. Combined with previous work, we have probably drywalled 70 percent of the house. Mr. Rader and I also insulated the ceiling, which was very itchy, as fiberglass insulation causes itching and coughing. Today, I stopped for a minute, at sunset, and looked out the new front window at a blazing orange sky and the silhouette of the fall mountains. It was so peaceful and fulfilling. I felt like I was doing work I loved for people who really needed it and really appreciated it as well. I cannot remember feeling as satisfied with a day of work as today when Mr. Rader and I were standing admiring the newly drywalled room for his daughter. This day was a gift.

Cheers.

quotes of the day;
1. When ever we come across a board that is out of place in a house, Ross says, "put a nail in it and let the Church roll on"....then he hammers in the out of place board perfectly into place with only 3 hammer strokes and says "you're all gunna miss me someday"...consequently, that day is coming in 3 days...

2. "Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around - nobody big, I mean - except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be."
~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

There and Back Again

T is for Turkey, the 18 pound turkey that sacrificed its life for our dinner.
H is for Hot handles on the pot of sprouts that Kevin burned himself on today.
A is for A huge bottle of 18 year Kentucky bourbon, which we are drinking.
N is for No fighting on Thanksgiving...
K is for Kentucky CAP volunteers, who I am thankful for.
S is for Sleeping in so as to conserve energy for consuming food.
G is for Giving a thrashing in Risk and the Turkey Bowl football game with the cousins.
I is for the Indian run to the football field to keep warm.
V is for Vanquishing an entire pumpkin pie by yourself.
I is for Intermission between my 3 plates of food.
N is for Not planning on fitting into my pants tomorrow due to the food baby in my stomach.
G is for Gaining weight, going home, and getting to see those I love.

I am thankful for my family, for the wonderful friends I have, both new and old, for all the volunteers I serve with and live with, for all the people who allow us to serve them and who share their lives with us, for food, for pie, for the Bears defense, for tradition, for G. K. Chesterton, for tables with friends around, for whirly ball, for St. John's, for Amanda, for all the people and places I have been, for all I know who have made my life what it is. Thanks.

Many Meetings

Its good to see that we're back to Lord of the Rings chapter titles being titles of blog entries.

I find myself back in Chicago for the first time since late August. There are a few differences though. The wind blows a little bit colder, the once lush trees and grass are now brown and shadowy, and it gets dark around 3:00 in the afternoon, or so it seems. I traveled back here via Brian's chariot, "the boat", as many of you know it. The boat was a bit worrisome on the hills of Kentucky, but it made it gracefully and with much style to spare.The main reason I returned to Illinois was to usher and witness the wedding of my good friends Erin and Kevin. They decided to give me the honor of usher, along with Sean, Erin's cousin, and it was my first attempt at the task. The highlight of the task was when Sean and I had to unroll the huge landing strip of fabric for the wedding party to process up. We had to unroll this white fabric, starting at the front of the aisle and bring it all the way back to the rear of the church. Well, apparently, the white linen did not come more than 6 inches off the ground. So, Sean and I, being the pros that we are, squatted down and did this carefully orchestrated crouched waddle all the way down the aisle. It was widely agreed among those present that this was 'highly amusing'. But, other than our sorry display, the ceremony and reception were beautiful. After being in catering for 4 years, I've seen my fair share of weddings, and this was by far one of the classiest ones I've see.....and I've served a lot of weddings. For example, you don't want your pre -dinner music to be too loud. You don't want a DJ with a silver, sparkled vest. You do want your chicken to be cooked properly. You want to cut the cake BEFORE dinner, so it can be plated in a timely fashion....before dinner people. You do want wine, decent table wine, nothing to fancy, but nothing that comes in a box. You do want some food to be served before the meal itself, people are usually starving after the marriage ceremony. Anyways, just a few observations from a retired caterer.

One of the best parts about coming home is seeing so many people who I only get to see once a year, or less. And, much of this is done in and around Chicago. Things move much...MUCH faster up here. I actually don't think one could notice it unless one is removed from the city...or university town, for a good amount of time. Traveling on 294, and 290, getting in the traffic jams and seeing people fly off the handle at each other, I longed to be back on our small country road, deep in the woods. But on the other hand, if I was back on that country road, I'd have to travel for almost 2 hours to get a Guinness, or hear a little guitar. But, at least I wouldn't have to deal with those crazy blue lights under the highway I-PASS lanes. I'm pretty certain that they do give you cancer...or at least scan your brain. It's just a trade off I suppose.

Being back in Chicago has made me realize one more thing...how much outside of the volunteer community you really need money. Money is always a touchy subject. But, as volunteers...we don't make much of it. And, I'm not complaining, mind you, but it's a very difficult situation. We can't exactly go out for a nice dinner with old friends, we can't buy more than one or two beers at the bar. We can't just go to the mall if we need new shoes, new clothes, or even a pretzel. When we spend, we have to plan a bit more than the...employed. It's a hard trade off because on the one hand, you become free from the commercial and material sense of money but you become much more at the mercy of unpredictable events in life. You are free from the power of money, but have no power of money.

Lastly, I was thinking on a topic that comes up often in the volunteer life, the purpose of why we volunteer; how do you break the cycle of poverty. There are some that theorize and believe that it is through education, improving the schools of an area and thus enriching future generations. Some believe that big government will solve the problem, increasing income taxes and allowing government guidance of where money is needed and allocation to individual families. Still others believe that non-for profits will solve the problem. Others think that charity either checked or unchecked by prudence will solve the situation. Or maybe its one of the thousands of possible solutions. The answer of course is, yes...it is probably one or a combination of many of these things (except big government, of course). But, it occurred to me, while driving through Wilmette, Illinois, one of the richest suburbs maybe in existence. Driving past the multi million dollar mansions with 4 cars out front. I thought immediately of how many rooms in that mansion were empty now, at this very moment, and how little space there is in so many of trailers in our county. I thought of how many rooms were so pleasantly heated while so many rooms not 5 miles from our home in Kentucky remained cold. I thought of how many cars out front wouldn't be driven that week, and how many people in our county need a ride to work. It occurred to me; poverty will always exist as long as the people who have more than they need keep from those who need more than they could ever want. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not a class warrior, and I don't think these folks are evil or hateful or any of those things, just because they have money. But, as long as individuals, as long as good people, worry about how much less they have than the people to their right and overlook how much more they have than the people to their left, as long as people ignore obvious problems, be it on the tv, in their country, or on their own street corner, poverty will always exist.

Cheers mates.

The Ballad of the White Horse.

This is a small excerpt from "The Ballad of the White Horse" by G. K. Chesterton, one of my favorite authors. The ballad tells the tale of Alfred, a Christian king, who was charged with the heavy task of turning away the invading pagans from England. This particular passage captures how I'm feeling right now; like during the battle of Christendom when all fortune had turned ill and hope stood on the brink.


"But heavier fates have fallen
The horn of the Wessex kings,
And I blew once, the riding sign,
To call you to the fighting line
And glory and all good things.

"And now two blasts, the hunting sign,
Because we turn to bay;
But I will not blow the three blasts,
Till we be lost or they.

"And now I blow the hunting sign,
Charge some by rule and rod;
But when I blow the battle sign,
Charge all and go to God."

Wild stared the Danes at the double ways
Where they loitered, all at large,
As that dark line for the last time
Doubled the knee to charge--

And caught their weapons clumsily,
And marvelled how and why--
In such degree, by rule and rod,
The people of the peace of God
Went roaring down to die.

And when the last arrow
Was fitted and was flown,
When the broken shield hung on the breast,
And the hopeless lance was laid in rest,
And the hopeless horn blown,

The King looked up, and what he saw
Was a great light like death,
For Our Lady stood on the standards rent,
As lonely and as innocent
As when between white walls she went
And the lilies of Nazareth.

One instant in a still light
He saw Our Lady then,
Her dress was soft as western sky,
And she was a queen most womanly--
But she was a queen of men.

...

"The Mother of God goes over them,
Walking on wind and flame,
And the storm-cloud drifts from city and dale,
And the White Horse stamps in the White Horse Vale,
And we all shall yet drink Christian ale
In the village of our name.

Home, Home, Where I Wanted to Go

Where is home? I've wondered where home is, and I realized, it's not Mars or someplace like that, it's Indianapolis when I was nine years old. I had a brother and a sister, a cat and a dog, and a mother and a father and uncles and aunts. And there's no way I can get there again.
-Kurt Vonnegut (author and crackpot...good quote though)

There are things you just can't do in life. You can't beat the phone company, you can't make a waiter see you until he's ready to see you, and you can't go home again.
-Bill Bryson


As the Indiana State Trooper came up to the window with his aviator sunglasses, carefully polished shirt buttons, stiff hat, and generally pissed demeanor, the only thing I could think was, "I wonder if this unplanned stop will make me late for Eucharistic Adoration..." This past weekend, I traveled via a rented PT Cruiser (aka "the cruiser") back to Champaign Urbana to see my good friends. At St. John's this weekend, the 95th Koinonia retreat took place. Koinonia is the Greek word for community, and this is a retreat program that I had been heavily involved in at the Newman Center. I spent a great deal of time, prayer and love in Koinonia, and in return, Koinonia helped me develop spiritually into the adult Catholic I am today. I met some of my greatest friends here. Many I love remain heavily involved in the program. And that, dear reader, makes me happy.

I left Kentucky in the early afternoon, Friday, bound for St. John's and those I love. I quickly figured out that if I traveled...expeditiously in the cruiser, I could arrive at St. John's just in time for Eucharistic Adoration. For those of you who may not know what that is, Adoration is a time when the Blessed Sacrament, the Eucharist, is exposed in a monstrance and Catholics come to pray and be in the presence of Christ. The best way I can describe it to you is like meeting your most dear friend, a friend who knows you better than you know yourself, and having a long, wonderful conversation. The priest then comes out and does Eucharistic Benediction, where he blesses those present with the monstrance containing the Eucharist, and the Divine Praises are sung along with ceremonial songs. I had not been to Adoration since I was last in Champaign in July. And I SORELY miss it. Last year, I went almost every day along with Daily Mass. It was in Adoration that I realized I was coming to CAP, in addition to several other important directions in life. The Eucharist is the focal point of a Catholic's life, it is central in my life. I made it to Champaign just in time, despite the...detour in Indiana.

After Adoration, a large group of us participated in the Stations of the Cross for the retreatants. Stations of the Cross is a portrayal of the Passion and death of Christ. I played the part of Barabbas...my traditional role. And I was meant for the stage, let me tell you. I got to see Andy and Frodo, along with so many others. After stations were over, Will, Katie, B-Gor, Bambi and I went out to Crane Ally to meet up with my good friend who I haven't seen in a while, beer. And, just my luck, they had my favorite beer, "Robert the Bruce" made by the Three Floyd's Brewery, on tap! I also had a Victory beer called "Hop Devil' which was so hoppy it would even make Dave squint. It was great to be back in Urbana, to see Fever, go to my old room, the kitchen with the piles of dishes, the couches, the porch. It was strange, almost as if I did not leave. I almost started to do the dishes and shoot Will with a nerf gun...but I found myself unarmed and without any will to do dishes.

This was my first time back to Champaign since coming to Cap. It was an odd experience, and a wonderful one. It got me thinking about where my home actually is. Home for me will always be where my parents live, near the city by the lake, the place where I was born. But in many ways, home is also Fever, it remains to be Fever to this day. It is the cornfields south of campus, the Psych building, the Blind Pig, and of course the 8th pew back on the left side of St. John's Catholic Chapel. In many ways, the Jackson House is starting to become my home... if it isn't already. After you leave college, you are, in many respects, homeless. You have certain places where you keep all your stuff, and where you lay your head at night, but the spirit of home leaves you for a little while. There are many...many people who I saw this weekend that I wish I could go back to seeing on a daily basis. I miss seeing John in Daily Mass, video games with Andy and Will, Mass with Fr. Robert, coffee with Dave, movies, corn mazes, campus, and class with too many people to be listed here . It was almost as if I didn't want to leave Champaign, but knew it was not right for me to stay there either. As Monseigneur says, "My autobiography will be called, 'Everybody Leaves.'" And, I guess that's true.

As I drove down 74 and back into Kentucky, hope was rekindled in me. I knew that I have something to do down here, with CAP, before the end, and that I mean to see it through. I feel that this is the right place for me, volunteering, but that fact really didn't make leaving any easier.

Cheers.

Now Listening to: Nickel Creek, "Why Should the Fire Die?"
Now Watching: Big Fish
Now Reading: The Two Towers
Now Wearing: Illinois t-shirt

don't worry, I got off with a warning.

Oh Abrams, My Abrams!

Today we got news that there is a good chance that our crew leader, hero, and local legend, Ross Abrams will be leaving housing after 28 years of service to the people here. The sadness in our hearts is so great that I can only modify a Walt Whitman poem to describe it. I have not the words to describe it, for me, the grief is still too near. O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of stink bombs,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Gone to maintanence.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve left us to go to maintainence.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are filled with potted meat;
My father does not feel my arm, he his eating the greens of beets;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain gone,
Gone to maintainence. ....I think we may have made a mistake leaving the Shire, Pip.

What ever you do, don't look that goat in the eye

This past weekend, Jennie, David, myself, little David (aka Upper Body Strength man), and Anna all traveled out to the east side to visit all of our friends in Johnson County. The Johnson house is kind of like our house 2.0; very new, very nice...a nice place to visit I'd say. The weekend's highlight was the 18 foot tall teepee we built in their back yard. UBS man, being a Illinois engineer, quickly took the reigns and asked what 18 feet times pi was so as to determine the precise calculations for the tarp we would use to wrap around the huge poles. Once we connected the tarp with duck tape, the Davids shimmied their way up the poles to attach the tarp at the top. Most of us started out sleeping in the teepee at night but only a few of us stayed in there until morning. It was widely agreed that the teepee was a success and most satisfactory.

We recently started working on a job that I have dreamed of working on since I came to CAP. The Rader family is a husband, wife, and 4 kids, all under the age of 9; 3 girls and one boy who is about a year old. Their father has been building their home basically on his own. He is a mason by trade, so the workmanship is all superb. But, he has been working on the house at night and on the weekends, trying to get it ready for inspections and ultimately living, so the progress can only go so fast. It is a touching job to all of us, especially after meeting the little ones. The little boy doesn't walk yet, but he does scoot around on his butt on the floor. The girls all have smiles that strike right to your heart and make you smile yourself, despite how overworked and cold you are. Its a blessing just to be there and to work on their home. I would love more than anything to have the family in the house at Christmas...we all told Ross we'd work night and day to see it done. It's an ambitious goal...but that's just how we like it. When you work on jobs like this, you can almost get glimpses into the future. As you install a window, you can just about see a little girl looking out the window of her new room at a soft snowfall. As you put in a porch, you can see a mother reading to her son on the porch swing, waving goodbye to a child leaving home to make their way in the wide world, or waiting there patiently for their return. You put in a stove and you imagine how many good meals will be cooked there, children learning to cook there. You put in insulation and you see all the children sleeping quietly and warmly. You work for the hope of better times. You work for the love of the family who deserve, more than anything, a warm, dependable place to grow and live. You work because God has put you there to help this family build their home. And that's why it's a blessing.

Today, we were over at the house working on sofit, bird boxes on the roof corners (they're not really for birds, they're just square boxes where the sloped part of the roof meets the front), and house wrap to prepare for siding. So, I'm cutting a piece of wood with a circular saw when all the sudden I hear some rustling in the brush behind me. I turn around to see 6 huge goats just staring at me, looking puzzled and generally pissed. So I was like....hello goats.... Well, we were "dealing" with those goats all day. At one point, one of them jumped into the bed of the truck and was eating our sunflower seeds. Laura exclaimed..."HEY....uh...GET OUT!" Then came the knowledge that David Frank was once a goat herder in California....who knew. So every time they would get too close or take things out of the truck, he'd yell "BAHHHHH" while running at them frantically, waving his hammer and flailing his limbs. However, when I got the plastic house wrap out of the truck and unraveled it, the goats went crazy, bahing and running at me....apparently goats love giant plastic sheets...I was on the extension ladder so I yelled out, "DAVID, what's happening"...He advised that I not look them in the eye and we both strategically retreated. Eventually, the goats withdrew...but the whole time I was doing the house wrap, they just stood there staring at me....watching...waiting.

Tomorrow we return to face the goats...if I don't make it, you guys can have my frosted flakes and my pork chops.

Cheers.

Quote of the day:

But I'm a headed west from the Cumberland Gap
To Johnson City, Tennessee
And I gotta get a move on fit for the sun
I hear my baby callin’ my name
And I know that she's the only one
And if I die in Raleigh
At least I will die free

-Old Crow Medicine Show

Kentucky, that is where God will look for me.

6 months ago, the powers that be in this county decided to build a new, very expensive, water tower down on the main road. However, they decided to build it directly on an old mine. Now I'm no big city lawyer or fancy engineer, but I'm pretty sure this wasn't a good idea. How do I know this you ask? Well, for the past 2 months, that water tower has been gradually falling down. Italy has the leaning tower of Pisa, we have the leaning tower of Sand Gap. Every time we passed it on the road, we accelerated to an unsafe speed to try to get past the leaning tower as fast as possible, fearing that it may be our time and we might get crushed by this grand blunder of local engineers. Well, a couple weeks back, the tower was gone, fallen over I suspect, but it was no where to be seen...I wonder what happened to it.....

That's not the only odd thing that happened in Kentucky this week. Jennie, David, Kristin, Lewis, and Jesse and I went into Lexington to see a zombie parade, that's right, a zombie parade. For some reason unknown to me, a group of people decided to re-enact Michael Jackson's thriller music video in the streets of Lexington, right in front of the Kentucky theater. A Michael Jackson impersonator came out of the theater and started moondancing and whatnot, and then "Thriller" came on and all these zombies came out of nowhere! They all did the zombie dance up main street in Lexington. People lined the streets and processed next to the zombies and Jackson impersonator, they hung out of windows and leaned out of parking garages to get a glimpse of the single most bizarre parade in the history of the world. It was all together confusing....and kind of cool, in a bizarre way.

We then saw the new Wes Anderson flick, "The Darjeeling Limited" in the Kentucky Theater, the perfect venue. I would put it in the same category as "Royal Tennenbaums"; just as creative and visually impressive with better dialogue but with slightly less charm and slightly less uniqueness. It is the story of three American brothers bound to no specific destination upon the Darjeeling Limited train, with a promise to have a spiritual experience, even if it be painful, and to become brothers again. The characters were slightly unoriginal, but bore characteristics of former Anderson pictures. Francis (the oldest brother, played by Owen Wilson) is a combination of Royal T., and Kingsley Zissou. Adrian Brody who plays Peter, the middle brother, fits in perfectly with the Anderson crew. In the opening shot, he is running past Bill Murray, who is trying to catch the Darjeeling. Murray, a businessman cries out, "wait!", but is noticeably slowed down by his excessive baggage. Brody charges past him to catch the train, stands on the back platform of the caboose to see the figure of Murray sinking into the distance, almost as if Anderson is handing him the torch of Murray's role and initiating him into the gang. Peter is a combination of Chas and Richie Tennenbaum. Jason Schwartzman, co-writer of the movie, plays Jack. He is a combination of Royal and Steve Zissou, just as self absorbed and just as much of a jerk... with some Eli Cash thrown in. Each character has something to accomplish on the Darjeeling. Francis (Wilson) needs to heal physically, Peter (Brody) needs to mature and heal emotionally from the death of his father, and Jack (Schwartzman) needs to realize why he is a "bad person". I guess the moral is that we are all on our own Darjeeling Limited "spiritual journey" and that the baggage of the past, while significant, will hold you back from catching that train. I'd recommend it, I enjoyed it... though I did not enjoy the silly and unneeded sexual scene and opiate use, which I suspect were thrown in by Schwartzman, so do be weary of that...

Lastly, we played volleyball with some locals on Monday night. Kentuckians are very...VERY competitive about their sports. Thats why Kentucky Basketball (go big blue), and now football are such a huge deal. Their zeal for sports even drives some to be Reds and Bengals fans....how they do it I will never know. But anyways, 5 of us volunteers were spread out onto both sides of the net among the local regulars. They were very good. We were very bad. After a while, the locals, who were VERY into the game, started to 'compensate' for my bad play, by basically eliminating my position and moving into my territory. I tried to break the ice with some humor (you know how I do)...but that didn't go over well. See, part of the issue, I think, was that Appalachian people are weary of outsiders. This is not to say that they are unkind or not good, gracious people. They are good, and gracious. But they are also weary of outsiders. You need to share yourself with them, who you are, where you come from, who your people are (family). Then they will open up to you more, but it takes a while.

I hope you are all well, in whichever corner of the world you are in.

Cheers from South by Southeast.

quote of the day: From Lord of the Rings, Return of the King:

There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.

G. K. Chesterton is my Homeboy

Today, I will just skip the blogging part of my blog and go right to the quote of the day. Courtesy of one Christopher James, this quote comes from G. K. Chesterton, who as many of you know, is my homeboy.

Suppose that a great commotion arises in the street about something, let us say a lamp-post, which many influential persons desire to pull down. A grey-clad monk, who is the spirit of the Middle Ages, is approached upon the matter, and begins to say, in the arid manner of the Schoolmen, "Let us first of all consider, my brethren, the value of Light. If Light be in itself good--" At this point he is somewhat excusably knocked down. All the people make a rush for the lamp-post, the lamp-post is down in ten minutes, and they go about congratulating each other on their unmediaeval practicality. But as things go on they do not work out so easily. Some people have pulled the lamp-post down because they wanted the electric light; some because they wanted old iron; some because they wanted darkness, because their deeds were evil. Some thought it not enough of a lamp-post, some too much; some acted because they wanted to smash municipal machinery; some because they wanted to smash something. And there is war in the night, no man knowing whom he strikes. So, gradually and inevitably, to-day, to-morrow, or the next day, there comes back the conviction that the monk was right after all, and that all depends on what is the philosophy of Light. Only what we might have discussed under the gas-lamp, we now must discuss in the dark.
--Heretics, Ch. 1 "Introductory Remarks"

This is an Adventure

So many things have happened over the last four days that I feel I should make a list so as to not bore you.
1. Friday - All of us from the Jackson house went up to McReary Co. to see what the locals call a "moonbow". A moonbow is created only on nights of a full moon near the Cumberland Falls in southern Kentucky. The moonlight reflects off the mist of the waterfall at just the right angle to form a rainbow....a MOONBOW if you will. Moonbows occur only at the Cumberland Falls. No where else on earth do moonbows occur on a regular basis. They used to happen at Victoria falls as well (that's in Africa), but due to a recent earthquake, Southeast Kentucky has become the only place in all of God's green goodness that a moonbow happens. It looked like a wispy white band in the mist, which bore lightly all the colors of the rainbow. When the moon crept out of the clouds, the moonbow appeared in the mist. David even convinced me to dance around the moonbow with him and several of the other CAP volunteers. There were 42 of us there total dancing around the moonbow....we got some looks, but the moonbow demands dancing. Obviously.

2. Saturday during the day. We went for a hike down near the Cumberland falls. Actually, we went under it. A group of us went (unadvisedly) up the beach, until we reached the bottom of the falls. We climbed and shimmied our way up the wet rocks until we were directly under the falls. David kept urging me to come out farther, but then we both slipped and started to slide down the wet rocks toward the roaring falls. We skidded to a stop and then strategically retreated back up to the safe pathways. A woman among the crowd came up to us and said..."just tell me one thing...(dramatic pause)...what was it like under those falls?" We replied, "....misty..."

3. Saturday. After the hike, we traveled to the town of Corbin to visit the ORIGINAL KFC RESTAURANT. It was originally called the Sanders Cafe, as is marked by the bronze historical marker outside the restaurant. Stepping inside this cultural center, this unrivaled eatery, this educational experience about the birthplace of the famous 11 spices in the Colonel's magical chicken, I felt the chills go through my spine! Then I step up to the counter and gleefully shout out my order...."Number 2 please!"...Then we feasted, and what a feast! Fit for the Colonel himself really....no, actually it was just your basic KFC with a KFC museum attached. Apparently, Colonel Sanders (Harland....his first name was Harland), started making his chicken for customers of his hotel. Harland was quite the innovator, hotel keeper, restaurant owner, spice mixer, and so on. Anyways, when the new highway was built (I-75), and Harland was over 60 years old, business was taken away from the Sanders Cafe. So, being the innovator he was, Harland set out on a tour of the country, selling his pressure cooked chicken...thus KFC was born. Although, Harland later sued KFC's parent company for destroying his vision, his food, and the image of the restaurant...quite the innovator really.

4. Saturday night - We, the 12 of us from our house, along with about 20 other volunteers from the other houses went to CONTRA DANCING. This time, we knew what we were doing, and we contrad with the rest of the mountain hippies like it was no one's business. Unfortunately, my mountain woman (aka, "hold me tight" lady) was not there. But, there was plenty of gypsying going on. In one particular dance, the ladies had to go into the center to gypsy only the other ladies. Callista was my dancing partner. We always joke that in the gypsy dance, you have to stare deep into the other person's soul! So every time I spun Callista into the middle I said Git that soul now GIIIT it!. When she came back, I'd say, "did you get any souls" and she'd either come back laughing and say, "got one!" or come back looking like she just saw a ghost and say...."Oh, my no...". It was all together entertaining.

Cheers.

quote of the day: G. K. Chesterton. "The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and left untried."

I Can Always Hear a Freight Train, Baby if I Listen Real Hard.

It has not stopped raining since it started raining on Sunday night. 3 straight days of rain. David and I have been working on a new job site with the group from Notre Dame. We are working on the job you would least like to do in the rain other than roofs; underpinning. Underpinning is 50 pound sheets of concrete that go at the base of trailers to keep moisture, wind, and rodents out from under the trailer; it is an insulator, aesthetically pleasing, and a pain in the arse to install. We have to dig a 6-20 inch trench all around the trailer in the steady cold rain which basically turns the work site into one huge mudslide. So, David, myself, Erin (from ND), and Nate (from ND) have been digging these trenches, driving in posts, cutting the concrete boards, and generally sliding around and getting filthy for the past 3 days. We have been coated in mud and completely soaked every day.

But, I really don't care about all that foolishness. Do you know why I don't care? We are working for the sweetest woman, named Snowy. She has such a quiet strength and peaceful mirth to her. She is probably about 60 or so, and wears long jean skirts and sweaters on these cold, damp fall days. She doesn't ask for much and worries about us working in the rain. Today she made us chili for lunch and insisted we come in on the clean floor to eat. We sent in the cleanest person so as to not coat her home in mud, but if we had all trampled in there and made a mess of the floor, I don't think she would've minded or spoken ill of it. She is a gracious host and a loving woman. You can just feel it in a home when loving people live there, its almost built into the walls, seeping out of the oven like baking bread.

Now for a series of random rainy day thoughts.

-"Raining in Baltimore" by Counting Crows is the best rainy day driving song.
-There is no way Colorado should be in the World Series
-Top 7 Pet Peeves while at music shows
1. People asking me to mosh. I do not mosh, neither should you.
2. People singing along to my favorite songs
3. When lead singers say "thanks for coming out tonight"
4. When crowds bring out their cell phones during slow songs and wave them all around like lighters...its almost a testament to lame music.
5. Some smoke is necessary to a show...too much is annoying
6. Dave Matthew's Band Fans
7. When bands can't play their own music.

-It is better to burn out than to fade away.
-I miss Daily Mass. I miss frisbee. I miss coffee shops. I miss baking things (I do not miss the hours). I miss marching band. I miss my napping couch at Fever. I miss beer. I miss the Blind Pig.
-You don't really *need* to shower every day.
-Everyone made such a stink when vinyl albums went away because they all had to get rid of their turntables. But when CDs switched to mp3's no one seemed to care or complain. Which I find kind of odd. You'd think people would make more noise because it is a much bigger change, especially because the media is going from something tangible to intangible, and mp3s restrict music to those who can afford mp3 players. But no one seems to really care. Maybe it's because mp3s are neat.
-English majors always overuse semicolons

Cheers mates.

quote of the day: From G. K. Chesterton's "Ballad of the White Horse"

Ride through the silent earthquake lands,
Wide as a waste is wide,
Across these days like deserts, when
Pride and a little scratching pen
Have dried and split the hearts of men,
Heart of the heroes, ride.

Up through an empty house of stars,
Being what heart you are,
Up the inhuman steeps of space
As on a staircase go in grace,
Carrying the firelight on your face
Beyond the loneliest star.

Take these; in memory of the hour
We strayed a space from home
And saw the smoke-hued hamlets, quaint
With Westland king and Westland saint,
And watched the western glory faint
Along the road to Frome.

Green and Grey

The thing is, Louisville is like a big city in one way, but in another way, it is still in Kentucky. This weekend Laura, Jennie, Callista, and I all ventured to Louisville for the Louisville half marathon and, unknown to us, one of the best shows I have ever seen.

We arrived in Louisville around 3 in the afternoon on Saturday at the Holiday Inn on Broadway, a fine establishment to be sure. I went up to the front desk to check in.
"Are you with the Irish?" the man asked.
"...in a way...I am Irish"
"Oh no, there is an Irish conference in town, but if you're not here for that, surely you are in town for Micheal Bolton, yes"
I half thought he was joking, so I chuckled a bit, "Oh, heh, is he in town?"
The man suddenly became very serious. "Yes, and tickets are going for 90 dollars each"
(Just to set your minds at ease now, we did NOT see Mr. Bolton, but for me, when he plays 'when a man loves a woman', let me just say I get the chills)
"Actually," I said, "I'm here for the half marathon"
"Oh, do we have a half marathon here in Louisville?..."

Naturally, this concerned me. This man, who was most likely as up to current events in Loo'ville as he was enthusiastic about Michael Bolton's 'art', didn't know about the race....this was interesting. Maybe I just imagined the whole thing and this race didn't even exist. So, we headed down to 'race headquarters' which was really just a small Ramada Inn. Now, in Chicago and St. Louis, the pre race conferences were held in huge convention centers with sponsors, free stuff, thousands of people. Loo'ville's headquarters consisted of 2 tables in a small room with no more than 14 people in that room. We have a little saying here; "TIK - This is Kentucky". There would be up to 700 people in the race....I'm used to the 40,000 in Chicago or the 10,000 in St. Louis...it was to be an entirely different experience than I am used to.

Now, we were informed by one of our roommates that Nickel Creek, one of my favorite bands, would be in Loo'ville on Saturday night. And it just so happened that the theater they were to perform in, the Brown Theater, was 1 block from our hotel. We called to see if there were tickets. Of course, there were not, sold out for weeks. Apparently, after more than 10 years of making some of the most genuine music there is, NC was calling it quits, at least for now. They are 3 members; a fiddle, a mandolin, and guitar. They mingle traditional bluegrass harmony in voice and speed of picking, with earthy tones, genuine themes, and incredibly talented and spirited enthusiasm. As Weezer defined my musical ideal in high school, 2 bands absorbed that role in college; Mason Jennings and Nickel Creek. At any rate, we were calling for hours over and over trying to get tickets. We decided to go to mass at the Cathedral of the Assumption in Loo'ville. The Cathedral was beautiful, as was the mass. After mass was over, we decided to try the box office one more time to get tickets. And sure enough, just as we called, 5 tickets opened up. It was just meant to be. The concert did not disappoint. Sara, Chris, and John are INCREDIBLY talented musicians, which always makes for a good show. They are a band that incorporates improvisation into their songs well in a perfectly performed show. The show ended with an a capella version of "Why Should the Fire Die", one of their best songs, at the front of the stage, with the crowd as quiet as possible. It was one of the best shows I've ever been to. Hands down.

The half marathon was...much less perfect than the show. From the start of the race, I knew it would be an interesting experience. Usually, a gun or an air horn marks the start of a race. But TIK, baby. This race was started by an old man, who said, "Uhhh...go?....!" The first 2 miles were held on a bike path that was only about 6 feet wide, so it was slow going, with many inexperienced runners slowing up the front of the pack. Then, there was no water at miles 6 or 10, more bike trails, poorly marked mile markers, an end that was uphill for the last half mile... and so on. But, the shining bright spot for me was my team of cheerers. Jennie, Callista, and Laura made signs that said, "go HANDY" and "Run for Rabies" which were hilarious! My #1 fear for this race was that it was going to be a solitary event. There would be no Mom and Dad, no Pham, John, Amanda, Dan, Lynn, no dozens of supporters around crowded streets. But, my fellow volunteers came through in a big way, showing perfectly the benefits of community and fellowship. I finished in 1 hour and 59 minutes...not bad...not great, but I was happy.

Before leaving town, I had to get a Guinness. So we stopped at a small Irish pub and got beer and burgers...the perfect reward for a hard race. This half was far more painful that I anticipated. I pulled my calf near the end of it, and because there were maybe...100 people total watching the race, much of the motivation had to come from within, which always accents the current painful situation. But luckily I had the best solution; Guinness and burgers...that a 3 hour nap. But, it's good to be back here at home and to get back to work. We have a group from Notre Dame here for the week. I get to lead a crew doing some underpinning on a house....I also get to cook breakfast on Tuesday and try my best Wheatie impression, which I am greatly looking forward to.

Cheers.

Quote of the Day: This is from orientation, 4 weeks ago. Raul, one of my friends from the east side of CAP, saw my Immaculate Conception coffee mug with the Virgin Mary on it and he pointed at it and said, "word to our Mother"....perfect.

Wish You Were Here.

Here are some photos from where I am...





3rd down: Our truck for housing...named Black Betty. Black Betty is a hunk of crap but we love her anyways. She struggles to make it up the many hills of Kentucky, but with a little sweet talk and a few light slams every now and again, she does it.
Bottom: A view of the Kentucky River, deep in the backwoods. As Jesse and I were driving to a job, we stopped and climbed down a rock face to get this picture, so you had better appreciate it.
2nd down: My tool belt, so I can do my best carpenter impression....Ross, our crew leader and local hero, tells us that he's going to make a carpenter out of Joe, Monica, and I even if he has to marry us to a carpenter woman (or man). It just so happens that there is a family that goes by the name of Carpenter in a local town. Joe's carpenter woman is named Hester, Monica's carpenter man is Logan, and my carpenter woman is Buhla...or Beulah...I'm not sure of the spelling, sorry baby. When ever Joe and I do something really well, we say, "I don't need no carpenter woman!!!" But when ever we make a mistake, we say"...better give Buhla or Hester a call and tell her I'll be over soon." We asked Ross if our carpenter women were attractive, and he said, "oh son, prettier than a speckled pup." If anyone has ever seen a speckled pup, please let me know because I greatly desire to see this fabled creature.
Top: Leaves.

Yesterday, I went with anther work crew and so Joe, David, and Ross (our captain) were at the work site by themselves. Today, as we approached the work site, Joe said, "I will NOT be the first one to go to the door," as they all had whimsical/terrified/giggling faces.

Apparently, what went down was this, according to David: Ross had allegedly gone to the bathroom, or at least inside the house for a good 10 minutes. THEN David went to go to the bathroom, but the toilet was ROYALLY plugged with you can guess what. BUT, according to Ross, our crew leader and possible culprit, David was the perpetrator, using a mighty #2 to FANTASTICALLY plug the hell out of the toilet. Also reported by Ross was that David plugged the men's restroom at the gas station down the street, which can be confirmed by many eye witnesses.

But regardless, the plugging was so abominable, so fantastically vile, Ross had to make a special trip to the building supply store to get an industrial strength plunger to remedy the situation. "It's bad, real bad," Ross reported which was later confirmed from all who viewed (and smelt) the situation. The new super plunger did "fix" the situation, although after a sight like that, I doubt any of us will ever be the same.

Now, as chief investigator, I tend to think that it was Ross, because the evidence presented thus far points to him. But on the other hand, if Ross did in fact do such a thing, he would probably proudly claim it and have a good laugh. And, David is quite suspicious...though he did say that if he was blamed for this he would drive back to Florida right this minute.

Anyways, the search continues...penalties will be made...and enforced.

Cheers dearies.

Sing a Long Long Winded song. I Would be Content to Hum Along

First, I must apologize to all of my Lord of the Rings fans out there as this is my first title that does not have a LoTR reference. I will not say do not weep, for not all tears are an evil.

Evidence that I now live in Kentucky:
-I just grew a 3 month beard... no one noticed or thought it unattractive.
-3 Days ago, in my car, I passed up a dog running in the right lane (going about 3 mph), a cow, and a heard of goats all on the same road.
-I travel 35 minutes to the nearest store (a Wal-Mart)
-Christian rock and Bluegrass/Country make up about 95 percent of radio stations and the closest thing to music I like is "Delila"
-2 stores in the nearest town; Family Dollar and Dollar General
- I was lucky enough to see my mountain woman (aka "hold me tighter" lady) at another contra dance event...no words were exchanged...or need be exchanged.
-It just this week came down out of the upper 80's, the winter coats were broken out...as were my long sleeve t shirts.
-today i counted 4...yes 4 pickup trucks with wheels that were as high as my chest.

Over the weekend, we had a retreat with all 55 volunteers from around CAP. And, it was actually really fun; got to see some of my favorite people for 3 days, hang out, and whatnot. But, probably the highlight for me was a 'praise and worship' session in the mornings. For those of you who don't know P and W, is kind of like a Christian jam session where people sing as a form of prayer. Usually, I do not like P and W (with the exception of K mass of course) but today it was really fun. We even sang the "light the fire" song...which has male and female call and answer parts....and I was the only guy who knew it. So I rocked the hell out of it. It reminded me of the snow day last year when a bunch of us from around fever drank hot chocolate, sang P and W and just hung out with nothing to do and nowhere to be.

Today I made some French pastries for my house mates. It was the first time I had baked since retiring from the bakery in the late Spring. I even re-created my trademark "baker's delight" drink, which consists of hot chocolate, chocolate sauce, whole mile, a 1/4 cup of sugar, coffee, and whole milk....its what makes baking possible. But I did want to tell you something. There is a great great difference between baking for those you do not know and those you love. AND once you start to understand the Christian principle of loving those you do not know...or even those you do not like.... you will begin to understand why I am in Kentucky at all. Sorry to get so deep so early, but I've had some coffee.

Cheers mates.

now listening to: The Shins - Chutes Too Narrow
now reading: The Lord of the Rings (2 Towers) and James Joyce "Dubliners"...(cram it Dave)
now eating: cherry puff pastries topped with a vanilla glaze.

Quote of the moment: "I am nothing of a builder, but here I dreamt I was an architect"
-The Decemberists

One Part of Your Journey is Over, Another Begins

David is wearing pink fuzzy slippers he found under his bed, most likely left from a previous volunteer, and is wandering around the house. Nate is drinking some sort of protein drink. Jenny is working overtime on her lesson plans. Laura is running. Jesse is walking around the house brushing his teeth. Joe is making coffee and singing. And I'm writing. We all have our trademark activities we do everyday. Our routines do not consist of checking emails over and over, nor of sitting in gridlock, or walking to and from class. Rather, our routines consist of driving to the building supply store, reading on the porch, showering off sawdust, loading up the chop saw and saws all, and prayer.

But, some days are not routine. This week we have closed 2 jobs, which is quite a big deal. Some jobs take months to complete, so closing them out is a rarity and a great source of joy. Both jobs have been lingering since workfest...last March, when college students, including a group of us from U of I, came down in a housing blitz of the area to volunteer for spring break. One of the jobs we closed today I also worked on in March, when I was but a lowly honors Psychology student and baker.

The family looked at me a little sideways and narrow-eyed as they recognized me...maybe.
"Have you worked here before?"
"Oh yeah," I replied, "In March I was here and did that roof"
"Huh, you were fatter then....and had less of a beard when last you'uns were here"
"...yes, yes I suppose that's true."

Nate and I were debating where to eat lunch today. He suggested that we eat lunch in the truck, but I suggested that we eat with Harry, the man we were working for. Nate was wondering if Harry would talk our ears off. I (knowing he would) said, "naw, it's going to be really quiet." It wasn't, much to my delight. The best part of the conversation was when Harry lifted up his shirt to show us where he had colon surgery, which, of course, was why he did not want any of our lunches.

But, I wanted to throw one idea out there for your consideration. Possibly worse than the economic poverty of many is the poverty of spirit, both in this area and world-wide. How many people suffer immeasurably from loneliness, depression, or worse, both as a result of economic depravity and other reasons of course? Now, I'm not suggesting that Harry is suffering in this way, he seems a light hearted man. But, sometimes, more than siding or fixing some leaky gutters, a conversation or a smile helps someone immeasurably more than any dollar amount. So, we try to provide both as we can. Just a thought for you.

For your consideration from what I'm reading now:
There is no end to the dissolution of ideas, the destruction of all tests of truth, that has become possible since men abandoned the attempt to keep a central and civilized Truth, to contain all truths and trace out and refute all errors. Since then, each group has taken one truth at a time and spent the time in turning it into a falsehood. We have had nothing but movements; or in other words, monomanias. But the Church is not a movement but a meeting-place; the trysting-place of all the truths in the world.
-G. K. Chesterton

Between the Mountains and the Sea

Time moves very strangely here in Kentucky. Most of my days are filled with much the same as the previous day. Wake up, 7 a.m. Leave for Owsley County at 7:45. Work until 5. Dinner at 6. Devotion after dinner. Then running or basketball and reading until bed. But time definitely moves freer here than in other places of the wide world. The mist over the mountains is the perfect symbol of this very point. Once you enter into the foggy valleys of the early morning bluegrass, you are absorbed into the elderly mountains. The haze hangs in the air between the trees and over the narrow roads, like a grey beard over the shoulders of an old man. The mountains seem to tell you that they are much older than you, have been carved since the dawn of time and you are just passing through like countless others and just like countless others will after you are gone.

Anyway, where was I, oh right, time. It's almost like life has stopped outside of Kentucky for me and that it will pause until I return. I seem to be oblivious that another NFK is right around the corner, Nationals draws nearer every day, people are growing up and growing old and all those I hold dear have fruitful lives outside of what I can now observe. I almost feel like I have passed into another realm....a very strange and wonderful one, yes, but far from those I love. Such is the nature of growing up and leaving home, but it does contain a certain element of sorrow, though it is mingled with joy as well.

I'm trying to think of something funny to throw ya'll but things have been mostly surreal as of late. For example, I always wear a 'fuel belt' when I go running on long runs. It looks like a super hero belt with 6 mini water bottles attached. And for some reason, it makes people so confused and shocked. People will honk at me, yell out the window, marvel at the fuel belt like I'm either a strange sweaty, portly super hero or an escapee from the loony bin. But anyways, I was on a long run the other day, about 10 miles, and I had to go to the bathroom...quite badly. So I stopped at a art center, or artisan center (whatever that means). I approached the woman at the front desk and quickly said, "Hi, do you have a bathroom?"
"What the heck is that there?" she replied while contorting her face like it pained her to be so confused at such a contraption.
"It's a fuel belt...for water, look do you have a bathroom," I hurriedly replied.
"It's down there," followed by a vague waving motion like a flight attendant pointing out the exits on a plane.
So, I proceeded down to another woman, who looked at me, head askew.
"Hi, I really really need a bathroom, time is of the essence." I said, before she could ask about the belt.
"What...what are those, mini water bottles"
"Yes. Mini water bottles. For water. For runs. Speaking of which, do you have the bathroom."
"Yeah, it's down there."
Then I found it. But the main point I'm trying to make here is that, for the most part I do not fit in here, and it's quite obvious. I can fool most people with the beard, but once I talk, something to the tune of, "good day gentlemen," the farce is over and I'm spotted as an outsider. I try to fit in, in order to share with people but most of the time, I just listen to other people talk and try not to be too awkward. Anyways, maybe some day I'll be able to sit at the building supply store and chat and spit backer with the rest, but until then, it's awkward water bottle man, AWAY!

cheers my darlings.

quote of the day, from LoTR:
The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.

The Mines of Moria

Deep at the root of the mountains, there exist a vast system of caverns and crevasses, carved over thousands upon of thousands of years by raging rivers and slowly dripping water. And they call it a cave, A CAVE. This weekend, 12 of us CAP volunteers from all 5 houses went to the Carter caves to go "caving"...which is really a fancy word for exploring, getting lost, crawling around, getting dirty and seeing if we could make it back to the car again with at least most of our group. Apparently, caving is different from spelunking too (the way it was explained to me by Anna our fearless leader and guide was that cavers rescue spelunkers....so take that as you will).
We camped out on Friday night under the wide starry Kentucky sky, after a joyful rendezvous with our Johnson and McGoffin house comrades. Jesse kept farting all night which kept Calista up...can you believe him, what a scoundrel...honestly Jesse. Saturday morning, we geared up, with helmets, head lamps, gloves, and knee pads and made our way for the nearest hole to crawl into. For many of us, it was our first time caving so we didn't quite know how we would react, psychologically, to the experience of being belly down in the mud with only a foot and a half clearing to crawl through for 10 minutes (including myself). But, Anna broke us in gracefully. Our first cave was mostly an upright walk through a wide scar in the belly of the mountain. The ceiling of the cave glittered as thousands of water droplets condensing, reflected the golden light of the headlamps. (In my nerdy voice I proclaimed, "the wealth of the Dwarves was not in gold, nor jewels...but mithril!)...a couple people caught the reference, the rest just shook their heads. ANYWHO, at a couple areas, you had to choose: clutch the wall or walk through the shin high freezing water. I packed my excellent puma shoes which were PERFECT for getting traction on the walls of the cave........after I got my feet wet, I spent my time at the water junctions carrying David Frank over the pools.
Then came our first real test: a one and a half foot tall corridor by 4 feet wide for 10 whole minutes. Some of us, including myself tackled the expanse head on...literally. Anna was our leader and David was right in front of me. And, let me explain something to you; in caving, when you are crawling behind someone with a bit of a flatulence issue, the situation becomes inescapable. It's all part of the caving experience, and let me tell you, there are things much fouler than Orcs in the deep places of the world.
Honestly though, like most hard things in life, the hard crawls were the most rewarding because when you emerged from the small crack in the mountain, you were dropped in the middle of a valley mostly untouched by humans. Full of fully grown trees just beginning to drop their yellow and browning leaves, large rock formations, dried river beds, and singing birds.
After we dove into the next cave, we experienced what I thought to be the coolest part of the trip. The group all turned off all of our lights and just sat in the cave silently for about 5 minutes. The darkness was complete and the silence stifling. All you could hear, other than the occasional breaking of wind, was droplets of cave water and bats squeaking in the distant hollows, hopefully far from where you are sitting.
The most adventurous part of the trip was when we had to climb a good 15 feet up to another cave on what was basically a Kentucky ghetto rigged ladder made of 2 long logs and some rope. All of the guys on the trip would like to extend our sincerest apologies to our future wives, because we are now unable to have children after our uncomfortable trip down the "ladder". Kudos also go to Jesse who helped an entire family of 3 down the ladder, which awed the ladies and made the guys wince...in admiration.
Well, I must be off to bed before I add any more Lord of the Rings references or references to farting. Tomorrow we get to unload an entire tractor trailer of donated windows. Which should be only about half as bad as not making it out of the caves.

Cheers my dear mates,

quote of the day, "I know half of you half as well as I should like. And I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve"...one more.
-or-
Anna P. "Andy, you look like a homeless mountain man, crawling out of that hole with that beard."