Checking Key West Off Our Bucket List

We spent the last two weeks travelling from Virginia to the Florida Keys and back. Our ultimate destination was Key West and, while we enjoyed our three days there, I'm not in a hurry to go back. The Keys are a coral beach and they have to import their sand. There are lots of stones and few sea shells although I did pick up a sponge on the beach. I decided not to take it in the car. Sponges have a reputation for really stinking.

What I liked best about our visit to Key West was the time we spent at Mary, Star of the Sea Catholic Church. They have a perpetual adoration chapel which is lovely and we stopped to say our rosary and then visit the gardens and grotto to Our Lady of Lourdes. The Church is the second oldest in Florida (I think the first is St. Augustine) and it was recently raised to basilica status, the fifth in Florida.

While we enjoyed walking around in shirt sleeves for our trip, I'm not sold on becoming snow birds. I kind of like cold weather. For one thing, it makes one really appreciate those unseasonal warm days that come as little mid-winter surprises. Besides, Florida is filled with old, and I mean really old, people. We went to Mass at one church and among about five hundred worshipers, I saw ONE elementary age child with an older teen I presume was his brother. Now CCD was the next day, but still that has to be a record. We certainly have more children at our vigil mass in our tiny parish than that. So we'll happily stick with our Virginia winters. It really is my favorite place of all. No matter where I go, Virginia is home.

The Poseidon Adventure: A Great Adventure Book

I gave my book club Paul Gallico's novel, The Poseidon Adventure, for Christmas and we are reading it for January. What a great adventure book and, in fact, I think it could be the model for writing an exciting work of fiction. Bring together an interesting assortment of characters, put them together in a plausible situation, give them a common goal, place obstacles on the way to achieving it, have them develop as the novel progresses, and, in the end, provide a believable and satisfying resolution.

If you've never read a Paul Gallico novel, I recommend him. I first "met" the author in high school when we read The Snow Goose, a short work about a deformed artist and his friendship with a young girl and an injured snow goose. He lives in a lighthouse on the shore of England and sails to Dunkirk to help evacuate the trapped troops there. It is a modern fairy tale that has an almost poetic beauty.

Another novel, Trial by Terror, is a gripping story of an arrogant journalist who slips behind the Iron Curtain into Hungary after the execution of an American "spy" in 1950. He is captured, himself accused of being a spy, and subjected to torture and a show trial. The book was published in 1951 only a few years after Cardinal Joseph Mindszenty's arrest and show trial. I wondered when I read the book whether Gallico had that in mind as he described the interrogation, drugs, and torture used to break the journalist. He ends up confessing to everything just as the cardinal did in the end.

I look forward to reading more Gallico. His personal life was less than exemplary, but he had a great gift as both a correspondent and story-teller. One of his tales is The Small Miracle about a little boy who seeks help from the pope to cure his sick donkey. Somehow, I think the Lord will be merciful to a man with the childlike nature to write such a book.

December: Anticipation and Celebration

The first week of Advent can't help but bring a sense of anticipation for the joyful season to come. "The people in darkness have seen a great light." For me December is an invitation to look up at the sky searching for the star that leads wise men to Bethlehem. When I was a child I always gave up something during Advent, something I liked. It was a reminder of this time of waiting with the anticipation of enjoying it again when the feasting time arrived.

As I write this, December is already past and I realize my Advent would have been better if I had resurrected that child's habit and given up something. But I didn't. Why, I wonder? It is easier not to, I guess, despite there being lots to choose from: desserts, coffee (even cream in my coffee), wine, between meal snacks. Oh, the litany makes me ashamed to be such a slacker. Will I enjoy the feast as much when I ignored the fast? Perhaps I can excuse myself by saying I did something positive. The choices there are many as well: ten minutes of daily spiritual reading, adding some extra prayers to the daily regimen, extending the weekly holy hour by ten minutes, adding a special prayer every day for the Poor Souls in Purgatory who wait in anticipation of heaven? Alas, no, mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Aside from lighting our Advent wreath and saying evening prayer from the Magnificat Missal, there is little change in our daily regimen.

I once read in Pope John XXIII's autobiography that he reached old age and lamented that he thought by now he should have been a saint. How well I can relate to that. Well, Pope John is Blessed now, but I feel like the red queen in Alice Through the Looking Glass who runs and runs just to stay in the same place. But, alas, I'm running a lot slower these days and feel like I'm losing ground. It is an invitation to humility.

Nevertheless, the Christ child comes to me at Christmas anyway -- despite my spiritual laziness. The festive scene grows gradually as I put out the decorations around the house: always first the creche with Jesus hidden until Christmas eve, then the star on the front of the house, the nativity banner near the mailbox, the wreath on the door, the table decorations, the Christmas cards spreading across the curtain valences, and last, the Christmas tree. All the traditions and memories of Christmases past impart a warm glow even though we miss the joy of doing it with young children. How does one keep that sense of wonder in old age? I need to put on the heart of the child? It's not easy in a world filled with evil and ugliness. But that, in itself, is a reminder to look for the goodness and beauty around us. There is never a time so evil, St. Thomas More said, that a good man cannot live in it.

And so we prepare for the celebration to come. It culminates in Christmas eve Mass. What used to be at midnight is now at 10:30 p.m. For our parish, perhaps it's a recognition that so many in the congregation are retired and older. Waiting until midnight would be hard for many and, I confess, I'm among them. But when I remember those midnight Masses of childhood, I feel a little twinge of regret that they are gone. I remember coming out of church after the final blessing and looking up at a clear winter sky filled with shining stars. I could almost see the angels appearing to the shepherds to sing "Hosannah in the highest! Peace on earth to men of good will." And going home there was always one present to unwrap before bed. Already, the celebration had begun.

Larry and I return from our Christmas eve celebration with our children and grandchildren to pray our rosary before Mass in the brightly lit, newly decorated church. The Advent wreath in front of the altar is gone, replaced by the stable and the familiar figures of the Holy Family and the shepherds and the animals. The scene always brings a smile to my face and, now that we live in the country, the smell of the animals and fresh hay is easy to imagine as well. We sing carols before Mass and enter into the season of Christmas as Father processes in with four well-scrubbed altar boys and our deacon-to-be. The dark purple vestments have been replaced with the glorious gold and white of this joyful night. We sing a new Gloria, badly I'm sorry to say, but somehow I imagine it pleases Jesus to hear us try. And it will be better next year. There is always another opportunity.

For a pilgrim, Christmas reminds us of arriving at the destination, not the final destination, of course; that will only come on the last day, but an interim stop for rest and rejoicing. And so we do. What a wonderful Church that gives us twelve days of Christmas in which to celebrate. We spend it with many special events and visits: a dinner party with friends, the table set with the good china and silver, birthday celebrations for our December grandchildren, New Year's eve spent with two little princesses arrayed in finery from the dressup box and dancing away the old year before collapsing and being put to bed before midnight. We arrive at the last days of the season too soon. The three wise men arrive on January 6th bearing their gifts for the newborn king although liturgically we won't celebrate it until Sunday Mass. The beginning of Ordinary Time nears. It is a bittersweet moment as the decorations come down and we return to the daily norm. But would the celebration be so filled with joy if it wasn't set against the backdrop of normal life? I don't think so. Most of the pilgrimage is the journey. It has its own special delights, but the anticipation of stopping to celebrate is one of them.

November: Thanksgiving

I suspect most people engaged in a word association game would respond to hearing the word November with "Thanksgiving." As soon as Halloween passes, the pilgrims, Indians, turkeys, and cornucopias take center stage reminding us of the coming national holiday for giving thanks. In today's post-Christian culture the reason for the holiday has been muddled. Children in politically correct government schools learn that the pilgrims had a feast "to thank the Indians" for their help. Their gratitude to the Christian God is hidden under a baleful of nonsense. The relity of course is that after a cruel winter in a hard land the pilgrims gave thanks to God for their survival, a bountiful harvest, and the hope for the future. They owed thanks to the Indians as well, of course, for teaching them good farming methods and assisting them to survive the first bitter winter, but they knew to whom they owed thanks first.

I believe in Reincarnation....

at least in the kitchen.

After Thanksgiving Tara's sweet potato casserole with marshmallow fluff had a second life as a pie. Who would ever know? I made my own flaky piecrust. Mixed three cups of the sweet potatoes with three eggs, tasted it for sweetness -- mmm -- pured it in the crust and baked at 375 degrees for about 45 minutes. What a winner. For a gourmet look, add whipped cream or ice cream on top with a drizzle of caramel sauce and a sprinkle of chopped walnuts or pecans. Yum. I just had some for dessert after lunch and it is mm-mm good.

The Cheerful Pilgrim: November

NOVEMBER: REMEMBRANCE

"Remember, man, that thou art dust, and unto dust thou shall return."         

Ash Wednesday admonition

    November arrives gently with crisp, frosty nights and warm days. We go to morning Mass for All Saints Day and enjoy the little ones dressed up as saints. One young boy, obviously St. George, carries a sword to vanquish his little sister, the green dragon with the spiky tail trying to keep up with him as they march down the aisle. St. Bernadette, St. Therese of Liseux, the three little shepherds of Fatima, King Louis of France in his regal robes and crown, St. Michael and St. Gabriel, St. Joseph with his hammer, and a mini Blessed Mother in a blue dress, white veil, downcast eyes and hands beautifully folded – all the saints, the heroes of heaven, pass in review. How can the minds and hearts of the congregation not be lifted up to the Church Triumphant with such a display of her holy treasures?

I'm Going to Write a Book: The Cheerful Pilgrim

I decided this week that I'm going to write a book. Whether it ever gets formally published is less important to me than the writing. It will take me a year because each chapter will be a pilgrim's journey through a month and I'm beginning it now. It won't be a diary in the sense of keeping a slavish record of daily happenings, but a collection of the months' experiences from both now and in the past.

Since I'm starting with November the beginning is the end chronologically, which I think is appropriate. Pondering on the end gives a different perspective to the rest putting it in the context of the last things (death, judgment, heaven, and hell) which should really be among the first things for the pilgrim journeying through life. Keeping our end's goal in sight is the only way to reach it. So I invite you to join me along this pilgrim's journey through the year and in fact follow your own journey. We are all walking the path and, what a shame, if we don't study it along the way. As Socrates said, the unexamined life is not worth living. So let's examine ours together.