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