The Moon By Night

Hidden mirth

2009-08-30T15:42:00.000-07:00

"Joy, which was the small publicity of the pagan, is the gigantic secret of the Christian. And as I close this chaotic volume I open again the strange small book from which all Christianity came; and I am again haunted by a kind of confirmation. The tremendous figure which fills the Gospels towers in this respect, as in every other, above all the thinkers who ever thought themselves tall. His pathos was natural, almost casual. The Stoics, ancient and modern, were proud of concealing their tears. He never concealed His tears; He showed them plainly on His open face at any daily sight, such as the far sight of His native city: Yet He concealed something. Solemn supermen and imperial diplomatists are proud of restraining their anger He never restrained His anger. He flung furniture down the front steps of the Temple, and asked men how they expected to escape the damnation of Hell. Yet He restrained something. I say it with reverence; there was in that shattering personality a thread that must be called shyness. There was something that He hid from all men when He went up a mountain to pray. There was something that He covered constantly by abrupt silence or impetuous isolation. There was some one thing that was too great for God to show us when He walked upon our earth; and I have sometimes fancied that it was His mirth."

--G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

Our Bodies, Our Selves

2009-08-30T11:00:00.000-07:00

Telling Secrets: Fat is (still) a Feminist Issue

I do not dress for other women. I do not believe in "fashion." I do not buy "this year's fashion" and exchange it for next year's. I do not wear uncomfortable clothes. I do not wear high heels. I do not wear makeup. I do not dye my hair.

I am an anomaly.

I have a healthy body. My dress size is in the double digits. My husband loves me. His love is not conditional, based on my weight or my looks. I will get old and wrinkly, God willing. So will he. He'll have less hair on his head. Our stomachs may get all poochy.

So be it.

I find it difficult to find well made, comfortable clothing. Clothing that does not change from year to year. Plain clothing. Clothing that lasts for more than one year, that does what clothing should do: cover the body and keep one warm in winter, cool in summer.

I am happy with who I am.

I am a freak according to the prevailing times.

So be it.

Who will join me?

Happy Birthday, Hans Christian Ørsted!

2009-08-14T09:29:00.000-07:00

I ❤ science geeks!

"The first, faint whisper of the wind from beyond the world"

2009-08-14T09:00:00.000-07:00

"I, like you, am worried by the fact that the spontaneous appeal of the Christian story is so much less to me than that of Paganism . . . I think the thrill of the pagan stories and of romance may be due to the fact that they are mere beginnings―the first, faint whisper of the wind from beyond the world―while Christianity is the thing itself: and no thing, when you have really started on it, can have for you then and there just the same thrill as the first hint...

Delight is a bell that rings as you set your foot on the first step of a new flight of stairs leading upwards. Once you have started climbing you will notice only the hard work: it is when you have reached the landing and catch sight of the new stair that you may expect the bell again.”

(Letter, C. S. Lewis to Arthur Greeves, Nov. 8, 1931)

Satire and the "tu, quoque" argument

2009-08-11T13:48:00.000-07:00

I enjoy clever satire. One of my favorite blogs (now dormant) was Brother Causticus at Titus One Ten. I thought it brilliant to use the lesser-known follow-up to Titus One Nine as a place to skewer, among other things, both sides of the Anglican ideological spectrum (his motto: "It is our intention to speak the truth in love; failing that, to speak the truth; and, when neither of these are possible, to speak. Unless things are perfectly unspeakable.") He was visited by both "reasserter" and reappraiser" alike. He was clever, and usually managed to poke fun without resorting to ad hominem malice.

Today I read two fairly random posts on two very different blogs: a long exchange of comments between Alcibiades and others at Caliban's Dream about the company we keep and the extent to which we are responsible for the comments of those who frequent our blogs, and a long series of reponses to a very clever satire on the role of women in intellectual life. Both made me think about the prevalence of the "tu, quoque" argument.

In one oft-repeated analogy, our blogs are our living rooms, and we claim the right to escort those who misbehave out the door (i.e. ban/block/delete comments). We see this almost exclusively done, however, with those with whom we disagree. To be sure, some sites have elves who screen out the most egregious unpleasantness, but for the most part, the blogosphere is a free-for-all where things can get most unpleasant indeed. My question is, at what point do we escort our friends to the door?

In the case of the vulgar joke, the racist remark, in "real life" these would be punished at the very least by the frozen stare. Perhaps even a stronger statement of disapproval. A guest who became quarrelsome or belligerent would be shown the door.

We have reached the point in the Anglican blogosphere where communication has virtually (pun intended) come to a standstill between those who find themselves on either extreme of the "current unpleasantess." And the epithets fly. And fly. "Why must you be so nasty?" each side asks as it prepares the next barrage. "You started it!" cries the other. "Pot, kettle, black!" both exclaim.

The tu, quoque argument (in essence, "you did/do it, too!") has become the justification for all sorts of spiteful attacks. However, it is a fallacy--a faulty argument. One cannot justify injustice with injustice, two rights don't make a wrong...etc.

Perhaps we can push the analogy even further: if we truly mean it it when we say, "all are welcome in this place," whether it be our house or our blog, then we have a responsibility to make sure that our guests behave civilly to each other. No sniping over the sherry. No cruel digs over the dessert. And show them the door if they cannot play well with others, never to be invited back.

By the same token, (and this is just as important, I believe) if one is an invited guest in someone's house, one needs to be civil. But if I crash an intimate party, I might expect to receive less than a cordial welcome, and if I insult the host or the invited guests, I really can't complain if I am insulted in return.

Most of us know by now what to expect when we visit Mad Priest or Stand Firm or Father Christian Troll or VirtueOnline. Some of these blogs may be to your taste, some not. You get what you pay for. But (to crank out just one more analogy) if you show up to McDonalds looking for escargots farcis à la bourguignonne, you have two choices. Order a Big Mac, sit down, eat and enjoy, or walk out and find yourself a French restaurant.

And instead of "tu, quoque" perhaps, "Ego, quoque. Et mea culpa."

Holidays must end, as you know

2009-08-10T20:13:00.000-07:00

"Strange is our situation here upon earth."

2009-08-10T09:15:00.001-07:00

O Beauty Ever Ancient

2009-08-09T14:31:00.000-07:00

Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would have not been at all. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and I burned for your peace.

- Augustine, Confessions, 10.27

[Un]

2009-08-08T20:57:00.000-07:00

It will show how out of the Blogoverse I have been in the past that it has only been today that I finally made the long overdue trip over to Cecilia at Closeted Pastor to see how she was doing. "But," I mused, "something is different." With the keen powers of discernment honed at Bryn Mawr College, I determined that her blog was no longer called "Closeted Pastor." Now it was called [Un] Closeted Pastor. Hmm...

Gloriosky, Hallelujah!

So I proceeded to read the wonderful story.

I am so happy for you and Beloved.

I will change my link accordingly.

What book would you waltz with?

2009-08-08T16:45:00.000-07:00

I've been catching up on my blog reading--I've been away from it for too long and since I have a Saturday at leisure I am "backreading" one of my favorite blogs: Grandmère Mimi's Wounded Bird. I started at the beginning of March so I can work up to her epic Big Trip to See Mad Priest. (Yes, it's been that long....) It may take a while because it's all so good and she sends you off on such interesting sidetrips (for example, Oyster's post about his Unfortunate Incident.) In As I Further Reread Gilead, Grandmère quotes from Gilead by Marilynne Robinson:

The Reverend has a bad heart.

So I decided a little waltzing would be very good, and it was. I plan to do all my waltzing here in the study. I have thought I might have a book ready at hand to clutch if I began to experience unusual pain, so that it would have an especial recommendation from being found in my hands. That seemed theatrical, on consideration, and it might have the perverse effect of burdening the book with unpleasant associations. The ones I considered, by the way, were Donne and Herbert and Barth's "Epistle to the Romans" and Volume II of Calvin's "Institutes". Which is by no means to slight Volume I. p. 115.

It got me to thinking: what book would you waltz with?

Guess what? Pork Butt.

2009-08-08T15:24:00.000-07:00

Went to the store to get a smoked ham hock to satisfy a bean soup craving. No ham hocks to be seen, but pork butt was on sale. Don't think I have ever bought pork butt before, but I've never tasted a part of the pig I didn't like,** so I picked one up. This dish came out so good that I went back to buy some more and put it in the freezer. Here's the recipe. It actually takes longer to type it than it does to cook it!

The night before you want to eat the soup:

Put a pound (or two) of small white beans to soak overnight. Navy beans are fine, too.

Take the pork butt (or half of it and freeze the other half, proportions are very adjustable!) and sear it in a very hot pan, all over, until it's good and browned. You'll probably find that there's some nice rendered fat already in the pan. Good. Put the pork butt in your crock pot.

Take a large onion or two smaller ones and slice. Not too thin. Cook the onion in the fat left in the pan until it loses that raw look and starts to be translucent. Dump the onion and the fat into the crock pot on top of the pork. Add a couple of whole peeled garlic cloves.

Deglaze the pan with about a cup or so of water; get all the good caramelized bits and dump this in the crock pot, too. Turn the crock pot on low and go to bed. (If it is too hot in the house, put your crock pot out on the back patio unless you live in the bayou like Grandmère and the gators will get it.)

In the morning you should find that the kitchen smells marvelous, the meat has acquired even more lovely color and the onions have virually melted away into velvelty loveliness. There will be a thick layer of fat rendered out. Take a heat-safe measuring cup and ladle the fat into it. It's ok if there's still a tiny bit left in the pot--it's tasty! Unless you're really good at it you'll also have some broth in the cup too. Let the fat cool a bit and put it in the fridge. You can separate the broth and add it back later.

(Don't make the mistake I did and unthinkingly dump this lovely lard into the trash! Save it and make rillettes!!! Here's a great recipe from a wonderfully poetic food blogger named Lindy. I love rillettes. )

Rinse the beans and add them to the crock pot. Add some salt free herb mix but no salt yet because it makes the beans tough. Add enough water to the pot to ensure the beans don't dry out. Go out into the wonderful world and do good and distribute. Forget not.

When you come back from doing good the pork should be falling apart tender and the beans cooked through. Add any additional seasoning you want (I like to pop in a spoonful of beef "Better Than Boullion"--adds salt and flavor--but I am a broth fanatic.)

I also like at this point to pull out the pork and shred it well (removing any bones) and put it back in for a while to meld everything together. Serve with crusty bread and you'll immediately wish you made a lot more! (I sprinkle green onions on top and add good vinegar.)

What to do with leftovers: the soup is even better the next day!
If the beans aren't tooo soupy it is great spooned into fresh corn tortillas, with cilantro, salsa and grated cheese. They are also super mixed with rice for a sort of casserole. I ate them for breakfast for days and I was very happy. Freeze the soup if you get tired of it before it's gone.

Tasty, inexpensive, and fairly good for you!

** full disclosure: I haven't tried any really bizarre pig parts, but we once roasted a whole pig on a spit for my mother's birthday....

A pork butt haiku:

Oh, lonely pork butt,
waiting there in the crockpot,
beans will be here soon.

1,325 Pope Hats

2009-08-08T13:22:00.000-07:00

-----------------------------------
(from Craig's List)

Date: 2009-07-07, 3:17PM MST

Because of this terrible economy, I'm having to shut down my business. I have OVER 1300 Pope hats (replicas) that I REALLY need to get rid of. The pope hats came from China and are a little too small for most adult heads and are also irritating to the skin, so you would need to have long hair or wear a smaller hat underneath (just like the REAL POPE). Dogs do not like to wear these pope hats, but maybe a large cat or maybe a nice dog would wear one. My dogs will not but they are not very nice and always hate being dressed up like for Halloween when we tried to dress them up like batman but they became very very agitated and bit a neighbors kid. I will lock the dogs up when you come get all of these pope hats.

My wife is a devout catholic and she finds the presence of all of these pope hats all over the house to be blasphemous. I have pope hats in every closet, pope hats under the sing, pope hats full of other pope hats. She will not stop talking to me about getting rid of the pope hats and has started lighting candles all over the house for my soul but these pope hats are extremely flammable so its a problem in my house (there are pope hats everywhere)

I payed 10x what I'm asking for when I bought these pope hats. I still think there is a market for them maybe when the economy turns around. Act NOW! Don't miss this great deal! I have 1,325 total (I counted this morning). 3 of them have some dog bites and one of them is burnt to a crisp, but you can take that one or leave it. Bring 2-3 strong friends.

Location: Tempe
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1258405496

-------------------------------------

I suggest we all buy one for the upcoming party at MadPriest's house.

Clumber's a nice dog. He'll wear one. So will Rowan, I suspect.

Update from Holy Family

2009-03-26T16:20:00.000-07:00

This new year has brought many changes to Holy Family. Our church continues to grow. Our rector has resigned and we have an interim rector, a new Senior and Junior Warden, and we have had five funerals in four months. (Father Bruce Kirkwood lost his long and valiant battle with cancer, and his memorial service was attended by one of the largest crowds ever seen at HFC--I dare not day how many for fear of the fire marshall.)

On April 4 we will have the Chrism Mass at Holy Family and then decorate the church for Palm Sunday. Liam will be out of town accompanying our students to the Alpha Chi convention, so I will have a few days with the house all by myself.

We are considering getting a couple of pugs this summer from the Pug Rescue, or a pug and a French bulldog. What do you think of the name "Martin Buber" for a pug?

Other than the usual lectures and grading, we are preparing to lead a group of students to Italy this summer. It's been tough getting enough students because of the economy, but it's finally falling into place.

The Olbermensch weighs in

2008-11-14T18:06:00.000-08:00

Let California Ring, part two:

2008-10-22T20:03:00.000-07:00

In honor of IT and her Best Beloved:

Let California Ring, part one:

2008-10-22T20:00:00.000-07:00

in honor of IT and her Sweetie-Boo:

We say goodbye to Grendel

2008-10-02T15:52:00.000-07:00

I phoned up the vet this morning to find out how Grendel was. The Shabazz-man said that he would never walk again and that his condition would continue to deteriorate. I asked him if Grendel was in pain, and he said he didn't think so. I asked him, "If Grendel were your dog, what would you do?" He said, without hestitation, "I would let him go. Now."

So about an hour ago Liam and I drove over together to the Vet Clinic. Grendel was happy to see us but could not get up. He was in the bottom cage, lying on his favorite green shaggy blanket. We sat on the floor and petted him and told him how much we loved him and how happy we were that he shared his life with us. Then we told him we were taking him home. We each gave him a treat and then the Shabazz-man (His name is actually Gary Shahbazian and he is a wonderful vet.) came and gave him the shot. It was very peaceful.

Thnaks to all who said a prayer for this little dog. Your prayers have been answered. Grendel is home.

Pray for a dog

2008-10-01T21:49:00.001-07:00

Yesterday Grendel took an alarming turn for the worst. Where as before only his right front paw was unstable, yesterday he was very shaky on all four legs and his right front paw was totally non-functional. He seemed quite unsettled. Last night I stayed awake with Grendel until he finally went to sleep. I took him into the vet today.

The Shabazz-man was not very comforting. He said it was not arthritis. He said that based on the configuration of the paw and the stiffness of the limb it appeared to be one of two things: an advanced tumor of the spine or some sort of degenerative spine disease. He was alarmed at the progression (we had taken Grendel in three weeks ago for his annual and there was no signficant problem besides a stiffness in the legs and the loss of a few front teeth)

Sp Grendel is spending the night at the Shabazz-man's and he will have X-rays and other diagnostics. If you are inclined to pray for a dog, pray that he remains pain-free. Pray that we have the strength to do what is needful. If you have a dog, give him love. Kiss him and tell him you love him. As Grendel would say, Do It Now!

I will keep you posted.

Phoebe crosses the Rainbow Bridge

2008-08-12T16:51:00.000-07:00

When we came home from vacation we noticed that Phoebe seemed to have lost some weight. We figured it was probably because the Pig (an aptly named cat) had taken advantage of our absence and crowded his way into Phoebe's food bowl. The house-sitter didn't notice anything wrong with her, so we started feeding her more often and by herself.

She didn't gain any weight and seemed to be getting weaker so I took her to our vet on Thursday (the Shabazz-man, as Grendel calls him) and he couldn't find anything visibly wrong; he recommended a blood test.

I called him up yesterday to get the results and he said that all her counts were very low and to bring her in for an X-ray. So I did, and when they weighed her they found she had lost another quarter of a pound since Thursday. Not good.

I could tell that the Shabazz-man was hoping he's see something obvious in the X-rays, but there was nothing. He decided to give her an antibiotic shot and send her home with more antibiotic and steroid combined, as well as special food, but over the course of the conversation I could tell he was becoming more and more certain that the prognosis was pretty bleak. I asked if there was any specific danger sign to look for, as we did not want her to suffer. He said no, but then said it would be a matter of weeks, not months. It was probably leukemia or bone cancer by how swiftly it progressed.

I took her home and she ate a third of the can of cat food. That seemed a good sign. She rested on her blanket on the floor. Before I went to bed I lay down next to her and told her how much we loved her.

In the morning it was clear that she was much weaker. That was that, there's no way we were going to let her suffer, so Liam called up the Shabazz-man and was able to bring her right in. I had to go to school to meet with a student. I hated not being able to go with them, but I said goodbye to Phoebe and we loaded her into Liam's car. We were both heartbroken.

Liam came into school and said that all went as well as one could expect--she left peacefully and painlessly. The vet agreed it was "an acceptable time" for Phoebe to go.

She was a sweet cat, a gentle cat, who never made any trouble. She loved being brushed. We called her "FooFoo," FooFighter" and "Fluffy." She came into our lives suddenly, from a student of ours, D., forced to give up all her cats after a terrible tragedy. She left us too soon.

Mass on the Beach!

2008-08-10T06:17:00.000-07:00

It's time again for Holy Family's Mass on the Beach. We are off bright and early for the coast, to escape the summer heat. We have two full buses this year. I'll be bringing my camera (but not my computer) to record the festivities.

(Grendel is at Doggie Day Care)

Don't forget the sunscreen!

This week at The Church of the Forced Antithesis

2008-07-20T20:05:00.000-07:00

Every week when Liam and I drive to church we pass by what has come to be known by us as The Church of the Forced Antithesis. This refers to their reader board which displays a message which (one can only assume) is designed to lure people into the church. The choices are (to us, in any event) rather bizarre, tending to the fire and brimstone, wrathful God, genre. (Why would that attract people????)

In the past, I have been tempted to list these gems on the blog, but have resisted. But this week I can no longer keep silent; the message reads:

"If evolution were true, mothers would have three arms"

Where do I start? Perhaps from the denial of evolution as an accepted theory by all reasonable, educated, people?

Or the grave misunderstanding of the nature of evolution? Species do not wish to evolve in a certain way...

Or perhaps from the complete misunderstanding of what a scientific theory is, to begin with??

Or from the semiotic: what is meant by "true", anyway???

Good Grief. This is why Fresno is a byword for the unthinking conservative.

We are back

2008-07-20T19:19:00.000-07:00

We are back from France.

We spent over three weeks helping our friends renovate their 17th century farmhouse and three lovely days in Paris.

It was wonderful. The best thing about our job is that we can travel in the summer. (Of course the flip side of not being gainfully employed for three months of the year is not getting paid for three months out of the year, but we are frugal types and can get by...)

We seriously considered ways in which we could stay in France forever (I'd rather be an ex-pat in Ireland, but it seems even more difficult.) It helps to learn the French for "I did not vote for him; I think he is an idiot." If you have a good scheme for earning an income over the Internet, please let me know.

Coming back to Holy Family after so long away (I'd only been back for one Sunday between Vietnam and France) made me realize how much my little church is changing...it's not so much the physical changes (although there are plenty of those: the rector's office is being renovated, the plaza re-landscaped, new benches in the Chapel of St. Francis and St. Clair, a splendid new set of paraments for the altar) but the growth: seeing the Rev. Michelle take her place on a regular basis (a woman priest!! Who would ever have thought it possible in this Diocese!),
We had 49 people at the 8 o-clock on a summer's day, several of them new faces. (And of course Norm joked about giving us a newcomer's packet, having been away so long.)

And now we are off again, this time only for a few days, to visit my sister Sláine and my brother Mickey in Phoenix.

After the Garden

2008-07-04T07:01:00.000-07:00

Father Jake has closed up shop.

Neil Young said,

Where will people go?

After the garden is gone
What will people know?

After the garden....

Thank you, Father Jake.

Go meadai Dia thu!

We have a winner!

2008-06-30T05:32:00.001-07:00

Brian R. wins a bottle of gravy from Grendel for guessing that Aghaveagh is in the Loire Valley, France.

Here is the latest castle pic:

I think I have gained five pounds on Brie and pate, not to mention red wine. My liver is groaning audibly...

The dollar is so low now that if it weren't for the friends we are mooching off of (staying in their 17th-century farmhouse and helping them with renovations) there would be no way to afford it on professorial stipendage...

Where in the World is Aghaveagh? Another hint.

2008-06-27T08:00:00.001-07:00

OK, Fran and Padre Mickey, guess! (Other clues will come. If by chance another person happens upon this blog, you can guess too!)

Kidanpped by Pirates!!!

2008-06-26T02:58:00.000-07:00

Well, not really.

But I did fall behind in blogging about Vietnam, so I have to catch up.

But guess where I am now?? Not Vietnam, and not the USA.

Here is a hint:

And I have not had Internet or phone access for almost two weeks, so I have been out of the loop in American news. Anything I should know??

And poor Grendel may never get to blog again, because I have the computer...

But he has a wonderful graduate student staying with him, who reports that he has almost become a Real Dog!! (and they hang out together at the Starbucks in the Tower District)

Day Twelve in Vietnam: May 24

2008-05-10T19:59:00.000-07:00

24 May,
Hue
AM: Arrival Hue station at 8am.
Transfer to hotel.
The rest of morning will be visit to Imperial Citadel.
PM: Boat trip along Perfume river to visit Ming Mang mausoleum and Thien Mu pagoda and Dong Ba market.

The train to Hue is a dive. Ken says this is much closer to how the Vietnamese really travel; I say "no thank you." It's not one single thing: herky-jerky motion of the train, the non-functioning AC, the blaring loudspeaker (a form of torture?) or the grimly grimy berths and dubious linens or the sullen, imperious staff...but put this all together with the toilet which consists of a hole in the floor of the train, and you have a recipe for true grodiness.

We find that there is a (relatively much nicer) toilet with an actual seat in it in the car next door, and I go to investigate. As I am washing my hands, I hear a loud grating noise. Hmm.... I try the door. It won't open. I try again...it is locked. I am trapped in the loo. I try knocking on the door, calling out, to no avail. For the next ten minutes I alternate between tapping out an SOS with my chapstick on the metal door and calling out, "Help! I am trapped in the the toilet!!!" but the noise from the train prevents me from being heard. It is really hot and the sweat pours from my face. Surely one of my party must figure out I am missing... or perhaps they will find my body days from now, a victim of heat exhaustion, or terminal grodiness. "If only she had not drunk the water!" Tragedy in the Loo: film at eleven. The innate humor of the situation keeps me from despair....after all, someone has to come by...

another five minutes pass and I go for the big guns, banging against the door with my foot. Finally the door opens and an enraged train official is on the other side, yelling at me angrily in Vietnamese. I yell back: "The door was locked!" He is not mollified. I give up and trek back to my cabin to tell the sorry tale. I use the hole in the floor for the rest for the trip, which is not much better.

And then, finally, when we reach our clean, luxurious hotel in Hue, it is like Heaven. Absolute heaven.

Day Eleven in Vietnam: May 23

2008-05-10T19:58:00.000-07:00

23 May,
Ha Long Hanoi/ Hue Road/ Train HA LONG BAY
morning swim.
Back to Ha Noi.
19:00: Overnight on train to Hue.

In the morning after a swim, a cup of coffee and a roll we divided up into "away teams" to explore a lagoon accessible only at low tide, through a natural entryway carved out of the rock (I'll try to load a picture later). It was so peaceful! Then, brunch.

All too soon it was time to return to the mainland. Our taste of how the other half lives was marvelous. but nonetheless moments of uneasiness intruded into our luxury: the ship was often approached by small sampans rowed by local women selling cold drinks, snacks, and souvenirs. "Hello!" they called, "You want to buy something?" I admired their industriousness at the same time as I felt the gap between affluent Westerner and impoverished native emphasized. I felt guilty, as I had so many times while traveling here. Sure, my tourism dollars are helping the economy, but once again I felt the huge discrepancy between our lives. I hope I never complain about my modest professor's salary again--it could support an entire village here.

Ha Long Bay. Beautiful.

Day Ten in Vietnam: 22 May

2008-05-10T19:57:00.000-07:00

22 May Hanoi Ha Long Road HA LONG BAY AM: Transfer to Ha Long City through the Red River Delta. PM Transfer to Bai Tho Boat for lunch with fresh seafood, then cruise Ha Long Bay. Stop at Titop Island to relax and swim. “Relax under the starlit sky before retiring to the comfort of your cabin.”

Ha Long Bay is one of the most beautiful and romantic sights in all of Vietnam, if not the world. (Liam, we will go back together one day...) As the Lonely Planet guide describes it, "majestic and mysterious, inspiring and imperious..." The name Ha Long means "where the dragon descends into the sea": the Bay and its many islands created from the thrashing of the dragon as it wriggled its way to the shore.

We drove from Hanoi early this morning and arrived at the Bay by late morning. We won't be staying near the bay...we'll be staying ON the bay, in a motorized junk By a stroke of luck, our twenty-person party has scored a boat big enough to hold all of us, and small enough not to share with any other groups. So, in essence, Private Cruise on the Victoria 4!!!. A smaller motorized ferry took us out to the main ship.

Lunch was a fabulous seafood feast, with a complementary glass of wine (and the prices ensure that this will be our only glass). When they brought out the first course, steamed crab, I nearly swooned (Avie loves her seafood!). Next we had shrimp, then octopus, and finally, broiled fish.

The afternoon was spent in gliding around the islands that dot the Bay, and we all piled into the small boat and stopped at one point to explore Sung Sot (“Amazing Cave,”), a large series of caves on one island. Then we returned and after anchoring in a quiet area, we had a swim from the main ship. I must admit I was a bit apprehensive to jump off the second story of the ship--I am afraid of heights and it requires not only the --but I felt I had to keep up the honor of the professors, as Ken had already (literally) taken the plunge.

Here is a great photo of the students jumping in:

Here is a photo taken from the water (Ken held the camera with one hand as he treaded water!) I am standing to the extreme right (discretely covered with a towel) as I attempt to gather enough courage to make the jump. (There will be no photos of me in my bathing costume...I can't risk becoming an Internet pin-up sensation)

The evening was quiet and cool. Sunset came early and the ship dropped anchor for the night.
We watched Indochine in the dining room after another seafood dinner that could not be beat. I celebrated with a glass of Jameson's (pretty pricey but worth it!) Our cabins were cozy and beautiful.

Day Nine in Vietnam: 21 May

2008-05-10T19:55:00.000-07:00

HANOI
AM: Visit to U.S. Embassy, NGO Resource Center to speak with NGOs about development in Vietnam
PM History museum, Hoa Lo prison, Water puppets show this evening.

A most fascinating and diverse list of activities for the day!

First off, we went to theUS Embassy in Hanoi. Passports were scrutinized, we went through security, and received a visitor's badge. The building we wnet into is not the main Embassy buiding, so it was guarded by local guards, not U.S. Marines. We talked with Ralph Falzone, a Foreign Service Officer at the Embassy. After a very interesting overview of his career path (including how difficult it is to pass the foreign service exam!) he gave us a short briefing on some of the main emphases of the work in Vietnam (the most significant being human rights and children's welfare). He said that due to some major abuses, adoption of Vietnamese children by Americans would probably be put on hiatus for at least two years. His own work was focused primarily on human rights. He was very personable and the Q and A was fascinating. I asked about child labor, and he said that in the villages it is very hard to regulate, mainly because so many children work on the farms, and sell trinkets to tourists. All too soon we had to leave.

The next spot was a visit to talk with two NGO (non-governmental organization) workers, Andrew, working with Catholic Relief Services, and Ted, with Lutheran Church Missouri Synod, both of whom have been in Vietnam for about ten years. Of course, they are not allowed to address faith-based issues, but they do valuable work in improving the lives of the Vietnamese through health education and other programs. Check out the links for more info.

After lunch,we went to the history museum, which was rather a disappointment, as most of the emphasis was on prehistory, and most of the later historical exhibits were heavy on (non-translated) texts and not so much on individuals. (For example, I'd like to have seen more emphasis placed on Hai Ba Trung, the two sisters who launched a rebellion against the Chinese in the first century AD.) But there were some superb bells on display, as well as another massive stele on an equally massive turtle (symbol of longevity)

Later on, a tourist activity sine qua non: the Water Puppets (in Vietnamese "Múa rối nước. We poured into the Water Puppet Theatre Than Long with about 2 million other tourists and crammed our bodies into the very tight seating (obviously not designed to Western proportions!) The loudspeaker gave a brief intro in Vietnamese, English, and French, and the band of traditional Vietnamese instruments gave a short number to begin.

What are water puppets, you ask? Good question. They are (usually wooden) puppets that float on the surface of a submerged stage, and are manipulated by means of very long poles by artists behind a curtain. The movements are very intricate. Each separate piece or story (which deal with life in the village, nature, episodes in the life at the royal court) is accompanied with music and sometimes an explanatory song (in Vietnamese). It was quite entertaining but I couldn't really see myself going back for more...it was good to experience it once.

Here is a link--I can't make the embed work.

Day Eight in Vietnam: 20 May

2008-05-10T19:51:00.000-07:00

20 May, Viet Tri Hanoi Road
THANH THUY/HANOI
Hosted by MCC / Thanh Thuy Women’s Union;

Back to Hanoi by bus in p.m.

More meeting with local dignitaries, more speeches, and then one of the highlights of the trip so far: a visit to two primary schools in the area. We came prepared, with candy. As we handed each child a piece, they did not eat it, but put it on the desk in front of them (three pupils to a desk for most of them, on tiny chairs). Only after they had invited all to share in the food (a necessary ritual for the Vietnamese) were they given the ok to eat them. So very solemn!

Both schools had at the front of the room, in position of honor, is a photo of Ho Chi Minh surrounded by children ("HCM loves the little children, all the children of the Nam...")

The teachers proudly put a few star pupils through their paces, singing songs and giving short recitations (none of which I could understand, all of it being in Vietnamese) and we answered by singing a couple of songs. ("The Hoky Poky" was a big hit.) The we drove off, with all of the children waving enthusiastically at us.

The next school was even smaller and more remote, and intensely hot. They turned on the fans for us (Evidently they did not need them). More candy, more songs, from them and us, and this time "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" was a winner. Our guide led it in Vietnamese.

Here is a group photo of us with the children. The local dignitary is on the extreme right as you view the photo.

Lunch was at a local restaurant where the big hit was a pet monkey. Michael and Joel became its BFF.

The food was great and very authentic, including what is becoming one of my very favorite dishes, water spinach. The chicken we ate had had a rough life, being tough and lean, but the grilled pork was spicy and tasty. How they manage to turn out such fabulous dishes in the most rudimentary of kitchens is extraordinary. A cat and her kittens wandered the restaurant.

Then we dropped off our honored guests and began the long, bumpy ride back to Hanoi. Tonight we will stay at the Van Xuan Hotel in the Old Quarter, where we had previously stashed our main luggage. (We have been living out of a small backpack for four days).

Day Seven in Vietnam: 19 May

2008-05-10T19:50:00.000-07:00

19 May, Hanoi Viet Tri Road HANOI/THANH THUY
Hosted by MCC Vietnam.
Go to Thanh Thuy District to visit MCC rural development projected.
Hosted by Thanh Thuy Women’s Union

Today is my and Liam's tenth year anniversary. That he has agreed to let me go off to Vietnam and spend our anniversary apart is a testament to his respect and love for me. Liam, I miss you and love you very much.

After returning to Hanoi and cleaning up as best as possible in a truly dive hotel next to the train station, we were off again; this time in a bus headed for Than Thuy.

Than Thuy is a district in Phu Tho Province (for more info, see the wiki article.), one of the places where the Mennonite Central Committee is engaged in aid that "includes working with partners in projects in agriculture, income generation, women’s reproductive health, children’s nutritional needs and HIV/AIDS prevention."

We were pleasantly surprised to be housed in a very nice complex where retired government officials from Hanoi come for R and R. We met with the local province dignitaries who gave speeches about the great things the Communist Party is doing in their province. That night we had a "cultural exchange" which consisted of three hours of karaoke-style singing by the local Vietnamese (dressed in their finest), with three songs thrown in by our students (Including "Do Re Mi" from the sound of music)

(I must finish this post later as we have just enough time to catch some dinner before our busleaves forthe train station.)

Day Six in Vietnam: May 18

2008-05-10T19:48:00.000-07:00

Sapa Lao Cai/ Hanoi Train SAPA
Long trek to visit beautiful village named Lao Chai & Ta Van,
get in local house to learn about the life of local people.
Back to Sapa town by bus.
Free for shopping at Sapa market until transfer back to Lao Cai railway station to catch night train back to Hanoi.

Very soggy day! Our long trek to Lao Chai and Ta Van was pretty wet. We were escorted all the way by the omnipresent enterprising Hmong women, always trying to sell us their handicrafts. They have hand-embroidered textiles (purses, wallets, tablecloths) and hand-made jewelry. It's hard to depict just how persistent they are...when a bus of tourists stops, they surround it like wasps...One feels very conflicted: one the one hand I have nothing but sympathy for their plight: they see us (quite rightly) as extremely wealthy and while ten dollars to us is a couple of cafe mochas, to them, it is over half a month's income. On the other hand, their aggressive sales tactics are quite uncomfortable. They seem to follow the same sales manual: first, they ask you your name and where you are from. Then they ask about children, husband, ...and then the sales pitch begins in earnest. If you get to this stage, they assume that a personal relationship exists and that you will buy from them. But if you buy anything from one, this unleashes a flood of indignant entreaties: "You buy from her, you buy from me...YOU BUY FROM ME!!! They can be very unpleasant if you do not buy from them. One of the students was quite shaken when a Hmong woman cursed her out for not buying from her. And so it is best not to respond to their insistent "Madame! Madame!" But nonetheless, I did buy some presents here.

The houses in the Hmong "beautiful villages" are dark and sanitation is minimal. Children are dressed in dirty clothes and covered with insect bites. They mainly grow rice (in long terraces lining the hills) and corn, and keep poultry (chickens, ducks and things that are larger but don't look like turkeys....your guess is as good as mine) and the occasional pigs. What I found most depressing was the small markets we passed (little more than a shed with a table) which sold bottled water and snacks to tourists...food that I am sure they could never afford to eat themselves. But lest I paint too bleak a picture, I should say that conditions are much better than in previous decades and tourism has a lot to do with this, and wealth does not always equate to happiness. One of our students is Hmong, and she could speak to them in their native language. Here she was, going to college in America: it must have been amazing for them to imagine.

So, Sapa was a blend of good and bad: the tourists that keep the local economy running may be discouraged from a second trip by the off-putting strong-arm sales tactics of the Hmong peoples, but I suspect there will always be more tourists. Nonetheless I was a bit relieved to board the bus back to Lao Cai station.

Day Five in Vietnam: 17 May

2008-05-10T19:43:00.000-07:00

17 May, Lao Cai Sapa Road SAPA
Arrive Lao Cai railway station at 6am.
Transfer to Sapa (~37km). Have breakfast at local restaurant and free for visiting Sapa market.
12:00: Have lunch.
PM: Nice walk to visit Cat Cat village and Cat Cat stream of the Black H'mong people (~5km).

It is time to leave Hanoi for a time and travel northwest to visit the areas of the Montagnards (mountain people). Our base will be Sapa, "Queen of the Mountains" and it will take an entire night's train ride toget there.

"Who is it that does not love a train?" to misparaphrase Frost.

The gentle rocking, creaking, lullaby, the ever-changing view, cosiness and comfort, safety.

We climbed on the train last night and what a pleasant surprise to behold the clean, modern sleeper cars glowing with golden-reddish wood. It is the King Express. Out sleepr c\has four couchette, a talbe with candies and crackers...the toilets are even clean, with an outside sink for washing up. A drinks cart brings tea and juice for free, beer and other alcoholic drinks for a small fee. The students play Pit with the deck I brought with me, but must switch to "silent" mode when things get a bit too noisy. (We have most of this car, but not all of it.)

I take a top bunk and after the customary ablutions settle down for the night with a good book. Soon all the other inhabitants of my cart are asleep and I spend some time watching the scenery roll past. I hated to go to sleep to miss any of it, but eventually sleep I did, and comfortably, too.

I awoke at about 5 to find it already beginning to be light outside. I dressed and stood in the corridor watching a new vista unfold. The wide brown river flows sluggishly. In the distance misty mountains cast their tranquil protective arms around the land.

We pass a brick-making"factory"--little more than a pile of clayish dirt next to a pond. A boy trudges back with a five-gallon container of drinking water (obtained from how far away?). Fields of corn right up to the tracks, scattered villages, cool, green, damp, fertile.

Soon our train pulls into Lao Cai Station (a stone's though away fromthe Chinese border) and we all pile out. After breakfast (pho again, but I never tire of it) we climb aboard the bus tthatwill take us from Lao Cai to Sapa. It is a small bus and we are crowded in together.

Woven bamboo walls, infact bamboo used for all sorts of structures, corrugated tin roofs, chickens, dogs, water buffalo, a group of puppies gnaw on a stick... and incongrously, a satellite dish perched on the roof of one house. Many houses have electricity.

Winding, winding, winding up the steep mountain road. Second gear, first gear. We gaze down from the road onto terraces cut into the sides of the hills. When we finally arrive at Sapa it looks very much of an Austrian or Swiss mountain town--only with dozens of Hmong in traditional garb!

It's main market day in Sapa, and the streets are crowded. We check into our hotel and take advantage of the shower to clean up after the long trip. The damp and the steepness of the streets reminds me of Sintra in Portugal. We eat lunch at Gerbera, a restaraunt reached by a set of stairs up from the main drag. As we feast on local Vietnamese favorites, a cat growls (no, really!) under our tables.

The "Nice walk to visit Cat Cat village" consists of a walk straight down the mountain side. (Not so nice knowing that we will be climbing back up). To describe properly the experience withthe Hmong will require another post later on--it's time for bed.

Day Four in Vietnam: 16 May

2008-05-10T19:41:00.000-07:00

16 MayL: HANDICRAFT VILLAGE/NIGHT TRAIN TO LAO CAI.
AM: traditional cooking class in Hanoi
Visit Bat Trang ceramic village
PM
21:00: Transfer to Hanoi railway station
21.55: Night train to Lao Cai.

This morning we went to Viet Cuisine and had a Vietnamese cooking class. First off, the chef took us on a tour of the Old Quarter farmer's market--not to buy, but just to see the wide range of products available. The level of hygiene was not exactly what we are used to in the states, what with raw meat and fish and seafood being prepared right on the floor of the stalls. Takes some getting used to, esp. the smells.
We returned to the restaurant and, after we all washed our hands, they ushered us upstairs to the second floor where a horseshoe-shaped set of tables was set up. We each got a chef's hat and an apron. We learned how to make four dishes:

Fresh spring rolls and dipping sauce
Chicken with lemon leaves
Fish with Tamarind sauce
Sweet potato pudding

The spring rolls were easy once you learned not to overload them: chopped lettuce, cilantro, rice noodles, pork (stir-fried with peanut butter!!!) and a cooked shrimp (artistically arranged), wrapped in a rice paper wrapper.

The dipping sauce had fish sauce, water, sugar, garlic, and lime juice, plus one hot pepper for flavor.
The lights went out during the stir-frying phase, but came back on after a minute or so

We ate the spring rolls right after making them for our appetizer.

We had to debone the chicken quarters--I had an advantage over the students because I do this often at home, as it is much cheaper to buy the chicken quarters bone-in, so I got some praise from the chef. Then we put some plum sauce on the non-skin side, and pressed a few lemon leaves (maybe they were actually lime leaves, as they referred to lime juice as "lemon juice"). These were to marinate for about 15 minutes, and then pan-fried.

The fiash was catfish, filleted and cut into three-inch square pieces. We scored cross-hatch marks into the flesh and put finely sliced ginger on top. The tamarind sauce was already prepared, but they gave us a recipe for making it from scratch. Then you steam the fish.

The most surprising dish was the sweet potato pudding. We began by finely dicing (white!) sweet potatos and puttign them into boiling water to cook. When they are easily "mushed" they are done, but midway through this process the lights went out, and this time it was for good. So the chef finished the pudding on a gas burner. You add coconut milk, cornstarch, sugar, and finely julienned ginger to the sweet potato mixture to finish.

Then we all trooped down to the first floor to enjoy the fruits of our labor, eating by candlelight.

Everythign tasted wonderful, esp. the chicken. The chef fried the lemon leaves as well, and the crispy leaves tasted just like (really!) Fruit Loops.

This would be an easy meal to make at home (add steamed rice), and I will definitely make it for Liam upon my return.

Well, one of the students needs the computer, so I will finish later.

Day Three in Vietnam: 15 May

2008-05-10T19:40:00.000-07:00

Hanoi Ninh Binh
Road HOA LU/TAM COC/PHAT DIEM
AM: Travel to Phat Diem (~150km), visit Phat Diem Stone Church in the morning.
Back to Ninh Binh town for lunch
PM: Sampan rowing trip along Ngo Dong river.

A very long bus trip today, on some pretty bumpy roads. Our destination, Phat Diem Stone church, is actually part of a large complex including several shrines as well as the cathedral.

During the French ocupation, this area became heavily Catholicized, and the Cathedral itself dates to 1891. Built of massive greyish-black stone, it is an imposing and somewhat ominous edifice. On the weekday we visited, it was pretty much deserted except for a few other tourists and a couple of beggars at the gate, and a group of Vietnamese women who either wanted me to buy their their babie or (more likely) subsidize their maintenance. The church is massive, weighty, and except for the ornate altarpiece, very simple in style. Massive wooden columns hold up the vaulted ceiling, and plain benches and kneelers fill the church. We entered from the sides, which open up to allow in light (a good idea--I did not see any electric lights on inside the church.

The main idea I got from the church is the fusion of Christianity with Vietnamese culture. Although the Mdonna and Child--indeed, virtually all the statues (Peter, Paul, the four Evangelists) were all depicted with western features, nonetheless the architecture itself is an interesting mix of western and eastern. I'll try to post some pictures tomorrow as I manage to download them onto Ken's computer.

After luch we went to the Ngo Ding River for a sampan (small rowboat) trip through the three grottos on the river. We all climbed into the boats, which were rowed by the local women (indeed, Vietnamese women seem to do the lion's share of all the hard work here!). Some of them are able to row with their feet--an impressive accomplisment and a logical one considering female anatomy). Kenm, who speaks pretty good Vietnamese, chats with our rower, and we both lend a paddle. The grottos are large hollows in the limestone rock above the river, and in places are so low that one needs to watch one's head to prevent decapitation. At the midway point schools of vendor-sampans converge on us for the big sell: drinks, fresh fruit, candy...and encourage you to buy refreshments for the rowers as well.

I am reminded of that scene in Apocalypse Now when they are journeying down the river, but this is quite a different atmosphere. For one, there are no hostile locals (there will be later when the tips are not what they expect, but that is proleptic) and the scenery is lush but not overgrown. On the way back our rower brings out what she acknowledges herself is the main moneymaker for her: hand-embroidered tablecloths and other linens. We (or Ken, rather) haggle for a while, and then let the matter rest, then discuss it a bit more, he wants a tablecloth for his wife, and I want a gift for my aunt Jane-Ann in Georgia.
By the end of the ride all parties are satisfied, and I have in the bargain a lovely small spring-green pillowcase to fill with lavendar as a sachet.

Not all the others have such a good experience: their rowers are quite aggressive in their request for tips and make their disappointment very plain. Although it can be offputting, when one is objective it's is hard to fault them: what seems to us like pocket money is an entire day's wage or more to them and they have come to look upon Westerners as their bread and butter...

On the long trip back I once again find the endless lines of small shops on each side of the road fasicnating. How many com pho shops can one kilometer support? Ten? Twenty? How do they make a living???

We arrive home road-weary and when we got off the bus I find I am still moving up and down from the hours of motion. In our room it is difficult to stay awake long enough to jot down some notes from the day without nodding off.

Day Two in Vietnam: 14 May

2008-05-10T19:38:00.000-07:00

AM: Visit to the “most important attractions of Ha Noi city: (Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, One pillar pagoda, The temple of Literrature [sic].
PM: Visit Ethnology Museum & Cyclo tour into the old quarter of Hanoi.

Good Morning Vietnam! It is Wednesday, ostensibly the second day of our travels in Vietnam, but the chronology got a little muddled yesterday.

Today we visited the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum. No shorts, no
sleeveless shirts allowed. Long lines of very small schoolchildren (girls in their best pink dresses) each one clutching the garment of the one in front--fussed over, like so many chicks, by their guardians, who occasionally pour cold water down their beaks. Some groups are wearing color-coded hats. Ken talks and jokes with them in Vietnamese. The long line snakes under a thoughtfully provided canopy which shields us from the worst of th e sun. No Cameras Allowed. Keep a Dignified Demeanor. No Jokes. No wearing underwear. (!)We proceed quietly and dignifiedly up the stone steps into the cool of the Mausoleum and into a large, dark. cube of a room. No Hands in Pockets. In the center, in a large glass coffin (much like a Communist Cinderella), lies the body of Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam's great Leader-Hero, bathed in golden light, improbably well preserved, waxen face, white goatee. Uncle Ho rests uneasily here. His wishes were for a simple cremation, with his ashes divided into three parts, one for each part of Viet Nam: the North, the Central Area, the South. It was not to be. Icons must serve their larger purpose.

Four guards stand, implacable, in a well surrounding the body. Two lines file past; the young children gazing with puzzlement, with curiosity, at the body.

As we emerge into the sun, we pass the four guards who will relieve the other group. (Drat! We miss the changing of the guards by seconds!) I try to think of some sort of comparandum to what we have just seen: perhaps if we had been of an age to remember the funeral of JFK, our own martyr-hero? [Would we have felt the same awe and respect? Princess Diana? The death of Pope John-Paul?] But we do not mummify our rulers and put them on display. Relics...saints...improbable stories of incorruptible flesh and the odor of sanctity..but they were never packed up and sent off for two months to Moscow for maintenance...Maybe we need more heroes.

After the mausoleum we pour out into the plaza where Ho Chi Minh declared independence in 1954: time for a group photo (I'm on the far left, in the hat). Then we visit the humble house on stilts where H.C.M. spent the last days of his life (1958-1969). The area is idyllic: botanical gardens with huge ancient trees, birds, chirping, butterflies...I want my own house on stilts.

Here is the refreshment stand with variable pricing [Price of bottled water for Westerners: 10,000 Dong (about 60 cents). Price for Vietnamese: 5,000 Dong]
Now we are off to the Temple of Literature, founded in 1070 by Emperor Ly Thanh Tong and dedicated to Confucius. Vietnam's first university was established here in 1076 and from 1484 to 1778 lists of students who passed their royal exams are recorded here. The lists of names are inscribed on stelae, and it is considered very good luck for students to rub the head of the turtles (symbol of longevity) upon which the stelae are supported. Comparisons are odious, says John Donne, but where is our Temple of Literature? (One of our students is disappointed by the false advertising, expecting a sort of manuscript museum, with actual literature)

Day One in Vietnam: 13 May: in medias res

2008-05-10T19:37:00.000-07:00

"09.50 a.m.: Arrive at Noi Bai international Airport in Hanoi. Meet and transfer to hotel in the Old Quarter of Hanoi."

in medias res: a Latin term most often associated with Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, best translated "in the thick of things".

With my limited blogging time, I am going to skip over, for now, the plane flight and cut to the chase...

We are on a bus barrelling its way into the heart of Hanoi's Old Quarter. The outskirts of the city are an emerald checkerboard of rice paddies, interrupted occasionally by the odd patch of corn or garden plot with all sorts of vegetable. There is not a brown spot to be seen, except for the small dirt roads that connect the fields. (Dorothy, we are not in Fresno any more!). This area is still very much rural.

The simile is overworked, but appropriate: Hanoi is very much like a frenetic anthill of activity. Even more appropriate when you see the small motor bikes laden with impossibly large cargo: a huge TV, 50 dozen eggs, stacks of all manner of vegetables, large blocks of ice, and, of course, human cargo: two, sometimes, three to a bike, babies and children two, all waving in and out of the larger vehicles with what appears to be suicidal abandon. Horrendous ccidents seem inevitable, (although in reality they rarely happen) and the air is punctuated with the almost constant beep of truck and motorbike horns: warning, chiding, complaining, retaliating.

This, more than anything else, is one's first impression of Vietnam: a dizzying blur of traffic; a cacophonous symphony of horns.

With so much activity all around, one's eyes fly from one unfamiliar sight tot he next: the architecture (more on this later), the women in traditional conical bamboo hats, the small shops, the massive omnipresent billboards. It is sensory overload.

Welcome to the Nam!

Taking a Break

2008-04-17T22:28:00.000-07:00

Just no time to keep up on the blog what with the semester slouching towards an end and the indexing on the book going far too slowly and the grading so far behind I may not ever catch up.

So I'll be taking a break for a while.

But guess what? I am going to Vietnam in May!! One of my fellow professors is taking a group of students and needs an extra adult female presence. He couldn't find any adults, but I said I would go...

Aside from too much work, all goes well. Take care of yourselves and I'll be back in a week or so, Deo volente.

Love, Aghaveagh

My lolcatz done saved my soul

2008-04-04T19:05:00.000-07:00

How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable,
Seem to me all the uses of this world!

what else is there to do but view the kittehs?

deez r mai lolcats. Ai dun them.

moar funny pictures

moar funny pictures

moar funny pictures

moar funny pictures

moar funny pictures

moar funny pictures

moar funny pictures

moar funny pictures

moar funny pictures

Pictures from Diocesan Convention

2008-03-30T20:54:00.001-07:00

Here are a few of the photos from the convention on Saturday.

Installation of Bishop Jerry
Our new Bishop Lamb pledges to take care of his flock
Women Priests!
Our new Bishop
The PB

There was a huge collection of vestments and other donated items from parishes across the United States and elsewhere--parishes and missions in need could help themselves. Midway through the day there were still piles left...

Truly a big tent! This is where the coffee and refreshments were served and where we ate lunch.

The inside of the lovely chapel at St. John's, Lodi

The PB signs Fresno Mark's book

An Episcodog named Molly Moo

Molly Moo and Sophie frolic on the lawn at St. John's

Father Jake told us to go to sleep

2008-03-29T21:28:00.000-07:00

So I will post pix from the Convention tomorrow. Thank you all for your prayers. Good night!

Look down, O Lord, from your heavenly throne, and illumine this night with your celestial brightness; that by night as by day your people may glorify your holy Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Visit this place, O Lord, and drive far from it all snare of the enemy; let your holy angels dwell with us to preserve us in peace; and let your blessing be upon us always; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

San Joaquin Special Diocesan Convention

2008-03-28T22:49:00.000-07:00

San Joaquin Diocesan Convention update

We are now comfortably ensconced in the Best Western I-5 Inn at Lodi, having returned from the Reception, Healing Service, and Q and A Session at St. Anne's Episcopal Church in Stockton (not too far from Lodi...).

We arrived a bit late due to a fire drill that kept us out of our offices on campus (false alarm) and a wrong turn, so we showed up as the reception was winding down—still managed to snag some refreshments. People milled around and greeted each other. I saw the PB from afar. Jan displayed the newly created banner for Grace Episcopal, Bakersfield.

St. Anne’s Church is very lovely! High ceilings, stained glass, my photo is a bit blurry but may give you somewhat of an idea. The placed was starting to fill up and in no time all the pew space was taken. Some nice young lads were bringing in folding chairs and placing them along the outer aisles. I nabbed two for Liam and me. We were pretty far from the front
It was hard to tell numbers but easily 200+: parking overflowed into neighboring streets;

The service was beautiful.
“An Order of Worship for the Evening with Prayers for Healing”:

A short lesson (Matt. 5:14-16)
A prayer for light
The Lucernaria for Easter
Phos Hilaron
Psalm 118 1-18
(these verses seemed especially appropriate:

I called to the LORD in my distress; *
the LORD answered by setting me free.
The LORD is at my side, therefore I will not fear; *
what can anyone do to me?
The LORD is at my side to help me; *
I will triumph over those who hate me.)

Gloria Patri
Luke 24: 1-12
Magnificat
Gloria Patri
Lord’s Prayer
Litany for healing
Prayer attributed to St. Francis.
Then the PB anointed all the priests, and they in turn offered unction to all while hymns were sung.
Then Easter blessings.

Then the Peace.

People just kept on passing the peace for about 5 minutes or so when Father Mark Hall called us back to order. He formally introduced Katharine Jefferts Schori, Bishop Lamb and their spouses, and Bonnie Anderson He made a special presentation of a gift basket of St. Anne’s beers to the PB (“PB Stout”) and to Bonnie Anderson (“Anti-Schism Ale”), quipping that “this church is just a front for a brewery.” He didn’t skip Bishop Lamb however, noting that he will soon get a “key to the sacristy where all the beer is stored.”

Then the Q and A started. The questions were all in the same vein for the most part: what might happen next, what should we do in divided parishes, how should we move forward… for clarification about the HOB vote on the deposition. The PB is a very eloquent speaker. She noted that the vast middle of the Anglican Communion is annoyed that so much time and effort is spend on issues of human sexuality when there are people dying of hunger and disease in our midst.

One person expressed our thanks to the PB, to Bonnie Anderson and to Bishop Lamp for their support. At one point we gave PB a standing ovation.
She later said, “It is you who deserve a standing ovation for your hard work.”

After the Q and A we milled around and talked. I enjoyed a glass of St. Anne’s Porter: a humble little beer, not overly complicated, but smooth and comfortable.

So the big questions whether any of the Standing Committee will show tomorrow. I’ll go out on a limb and say that I think Father Snell and Father Eaton will show up. And I hope they do. We will welcome them back in if they want to be welcomed back in.

In closing, it was an evening marked by optimism, hope, and love. A fitting beginning to the work that continues tomorrow, and a big step toward healing for this battered diocese.

More tomorrow! Pax vobiscum,

Aghaveagh

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

2008-03-17T17:09:00.001-07:00

Now, I know that since it's Monday in Holy Week that Paddy's feast really should be moved, and that some people celebrated his feast day on Saturday, March 15 (a.k.a the Ides of March...)

But I think I will be forgiven if I celebrate today. So I have my Shamrock socks on, and I've decorated my office door with the Wearing of the Green, and we are off in about an hour's time to our local Irish pub to celebrate with our good friends Nora and Bill.

And boy, do we need it! It's been a busy week with the meeting with Bishop Lamb on Friday night (it was so hopeful and joyous and healing--I hope to write about it at greater length, preparations for History Day on campus--we spent all day Saturday with over 500 elementary, junior and senior high school students competing in several categories, and this week of course is no calmer, what with something going on every night.

My Civ students are beginning to panic about Dante papers due on Wednesday (and since many of them didn't even start reading it until now, they are finding it more difficult than they expected). They are starting to feel the full stress of the semester--so lots of activity during my office hours, including several students with personal crises. Pretty exhausting. So, I am looking forward to some downtime!

I wish you and yours a very happy St. Paddy's Day!

Sláinte!

Aghaveagh

Goodbye, Andy

2008-03-08T20:37:00.000-08:00

Yetserday we said goodbye to our dear friend.

Andy was the classic Southern gentleman. He was kind, thoughtful, deliberate, and a man of staunch faith and consummate humility. I was proud to call him my friend.

He had been battling liver cancer for several weeks. When he told Liam and me about the diagnosis, he cautioned us not to tell anyone. He did not even want to have his name on the prayer list, but we were able to persuade him to do so.

His death was utterly unexpected. He had been going through chemotherapy and even though we could tell by the weight loss and by his haggard features that it had taken its toll on him, no one expected his sudden passing. He died in his sleep last Friday.

Yesterday his funeral was held at Holy Family. I was on Altar Guild and ironed the pall that would cover his casket, shedding many a tear as I did so. We have had such wonderful times at their house--I remember especially last Thanksgiving when we brought up a turkey dinner and emptied an astonishing number of bottles of wine as we sat and talked.

Linda Gail, Andy's wife, is an Episcopal priest, although she was not allowed to serve in the Diocese of San Joaquin. She has battled several health issues over the last few years and ironically (and blessedly), as Andy's health deteriorated, Linda Gail's improved. Father Keith, in his graciousness, allowed the former Bishop of San Joaquin to deliver the homily, as he is a close friend of Linda Gail. It was a very comforting homily.

Liam went over to thank Bishop Schofield after the service and they exchanged good wishes. Whatever happens in the future, I will always have a bond with Bishop Schofield--he confirmed me and when I told him I had taken the name of St. Brigit as my confirmation name he approved my choice with several anecdotes of her life. Please pray for Bishop Schofield as he looks to be in very bad health.

Andy, we will miss your gracious presence and comforting ways. Know that you are missed, but we are happy to know your suffering is over. May light perpetual shine upon you, my friend!

Why I am giving up bottled water for Lent

2008-02-23T08:21:00.000-08:00

A "Scholars Speak" article I wrote:

I do not drink tap water. In fact, in the last few years I really can’t recall drinking tap water (except in the most extreme exigency) at all. We own a water cooler and have five-gallon carboys of water delivered to our house. We also have a water cooler at work. On the rare occasions that I have forgotten to bring my water bottle to fill up, I have bought a bottle from the vending machines on campus. (At over a dollar a pop, you don’t want to do this very often.)

I am not an extreme germophobe or even very paranoid—since I don’t really drink soda or juice, I drink a lot of water, and I just don’t like the taste of tap water. And evidently I am not alone. Go to any supermarket and you will see an entire aisle of bottled water choices, all with enticing brand names. (My favorite is “Smart Water”—if only it really worked!) We have been convinced by the manufacturers of these products that bottled water will make us healthier, stronger, even smarter (although two of the major brands are nothing more than purified tap water). Trendy restaurants even have water sommeliers to advise us on the correct choice to complement our meal. This craze can be seen at its most sublime (or ridiculous) extent in “Bling H2O,” which comes in a frosted bottle decorated with Swarovski crystals. Price: around $35-50.

As we become a nation of bottled water drinkers, however, this habit becomes problematic in several ways. First, and most obvious, is the problem of the empties. Since a lot of bottled water is consumed away from home, not every empty plastic bottle makes its way to the recycling bin, even in California, one of the few states to include plastic water bottles in its bottle bill. In fact, according to the Container Recycling Institute, 86 percent of these end up as garbage or litter. When these plastics are incinerated, they release toxic chemicals such as chlorine gas. Second, the manufacture of plastic bottles uses crude oil. I drive a hybrid, not a luxury sedan or an SUV, because I feel it is a better choice for the world. Shouldn’t I operate under the same philosophy with regard to the water I drink? Shipping exotic bottles of water thousands of miles from their point of origin (Fiji, for example, or Finland or New Zealand) to the United States uses huge amounts of fossil fuels. Even more ironic: many of the empty bottles are shipped off to be recycled to foreign countries such as China, using even more petroleum.

When I think about this habit in the context of my faith, however, another problem arises. At the end of a recent church function, a veritable mountain of empty plastic bottles filled two large bags. Used once, their contents swiftly drained, they now were on their way to the recycling bin. I couldn’t help thinking about the money. Why, when we had perfectly good, free tap water, were we, as a church, buying bottled water, with all its costs (obvious and hidden)? It is, in fact, quite literally conspicuous consumption. Jesus teaches us by example to be frugal: after feeding thousands with the loaves and fishes, he instructs his disciples to go around and pick up the leftovers. When so much of the world struggles on a daily basis to obtain drinking water of any quality, our use of these products only reinforces the gap between us and our poorer brothers and sisters: if this trend continues, if only those who cannot afford bottled water are forced to drink from the tap, will there be the same impetus to guard the safety of public drinking water?

At the end of the classic film Casablanca, Inspector Renault dumps his ubiquitous bottle of Vichy water into the trash as a symbol of his newly found patriotism. This season of Lent, I am trying to put my principles where my mouth is: I am drinking… (gritting my teeth) tap water. Each time I fill my 20-oz bottle with tap water, I’ll put a quarter into a jar. At the end of Lent, the money will be sent off to the Episcopal Relief and Development Fund. And each time I’ll think about how lucky I am to live in a country where clean, safe water is just a turn of the tap away.

This woman is brilliant. Just brilliant.

2008-02-16T13:39:00.000-08:00

I have been blown away by the most recent post of our dear Doxy. One would not wish to diminish her brilliance by saying "as usual", but indeed, as usual, she states her case with eloquence, feeling, and a level of perception that few mortals achieve in this transitory life.

Good Grief! I am staunchly of the hetero camp but I would marry this woman in a heartbeat!

Dear Lord,
I wish for Doxy Dearest a man worthy of her--no punches pulled, out-and-out intellectual and emotional equality. I wish her joy and happiness to drive away the sorrow of her previous experiences.

And if that is not what she desires, well, I have a dog here who desperately wants to marry her...

What I am

2008-02-16T10:53:00.001-08:00

Feast of St. Brigid

2008-02-01T16:28:00.000-08:00

Today is the feast of Saint Brigid, my name saint (I took it as my confirmation name) and we are having a feast of our own in celebration, with a couple of dear friends to enjoy it with us. (Quite fitting, as she is the patron saint of hospitality.) There'll be salmon with dill sauce, asparagus, and (of course) Murphy's Irish Stout. Bon bons for dessert!

Ni bu Sanct Brigid suanach
Ni bu huarach im sheire Dé,
Sech ni chiuir ni cossens
Ind nóeb dibad bethath che.

Saint Brigid was not given to sleep,
Nor was she intermittent about God's Love;
Not merely that she did not buy, she did not seek for
The wealth of this world below, the holy one.

(from a Life of St. Brigid by the seventh-century St. Broccan Cloen)

Padre Mickey over at the Dance party has a write-up of St. Brigid that cannot be missed! Go read it. And have some butter tonight!

Oh, and make sure you hang a hankerchief from your washline for good fortune throughout the coming year!

Serendipity

2008-02-01T12:05:00.000-08:00

I just started reading a fascinating new book called Planet Narnia. The author, Michael Ward, argues that the main organizing principle behind C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia is in fact the seven medieval planets--the "seven heavens" of medieval cosmology. The book was actually sitting in my husband's office at--I went in for some trifle, idly picked it up, became engrossed, and just sat there reading it.

I've only read the first chapter, but I have to say it is one of the best written books I've read all year. As a great fan of the Narniad, I can't wait to see how he proves his thesis.

So this is about serendipity. I am teaching a class on the Renaissance and English Literature--way out of my field, but the professor who normally teaches it is on leave. So I am getting to read many things for the first time. One of then is Sir Philip Sidney's Defense of Poesy, a rather obscure apologia for poets (and indeed all makers of literature) in the face of Puritan attacks.

So I sat there reading Planet Narnia, and Ward is talking about why Lewis didn't just come out and tell people that there was an overarching theme for the Narnaid: his "precedents for secrecy." As a medievalist, he was naturally steeped in the ethos of the period, and (as Ward puts it) "Secrecy and polysemy were important features of the literature of that period." Earlier he quotes Owen Barfield as saying, "He [Lewis] stood before me as a mystery as solidly as he stood before me as a friend." And then a little later Ward quotes from the Defense of Poesy:

"Sir Philip Sidney neatly expressed the prevailing aesthetic temper of the period when he wrote 'there are many misteries contained in Poetrie, which of purpose were written darkly, least by prophane wits it should be abused."

Hmm... serendipity! Quoting Sidney on the same day I am reading him for the first time myself! Then I thought I'd better get back to work, so I went to the library. As I traveled the well-worn path among the stacks to the quiet mezzanine where I like to hide out and do work, the title and author of a book caught my eye: Romanticism Comes of Age by Owen Barfield. I must have walked by it a hundred times without ever really seeing it. I pulled it from the shelf and opened it at random and read the following:

"As users of language, the poet and the logician stand at opposite poles. To the logician the sound of a word means nothing at all, while to the poet it is of the utmost importance. To the logician those words are of most value which change their meaning as little as possible when they are used in different contexts; the poet likes the meanings which change most, and is always trying to change them further himself."

Another "defense of poesy." This is why I love this job!

The Moon By Night is one year old!

2008-01-27T19:48:00.000-08:00

One year ago I created The Moon By Night and posted my first blog entry.

It's been a wonderful year. My readership has soared to five, and the majority of them visit as often as once a month!

Back from Hanford

2008-01-26T20:55:00.000-08:00

An eventful day, to say the least!

Faithful Episcopalians from all over the Diocese of San Joaquin met at Church of the Saviour, Hanford with the theme: "Moving Forward, Welcoming All."

I blogged some comments from the floor over at Father Jake's place (the church had wifi) so I will only do a brief recap here.

The first thing was that we had far more people than we expected. We ran out of seating space early on and had to put up folding chairs. We think there was about three hundred fifty people there.

Cynthia and the Hanford people did a phenomenal job of hosting the event. There were a few mike failures and Liam did a great job of rolling with the punches when they changed the order of the PB's address (we thought it was supposed to come before Bonnie Anderson's presentation) and holding up a mike to his Mac when the sound system wouldn't work.

I searched throughout the assemblage for any sign of Brother Causticus, to no avail. (What was I looking for? I don't know, some piercingly intelligent, relatively young man with a verge) Perhaps, as Lisa pointed out over at Father Jake's, it is the idea of B.C. that is the important thing, knowing who he was may spoil that element of mystery...

A very moving theme that came out in the the Q and A is how many people in the DoSJ are waking up--finding out that they have been misled, and they are not happy about it.

Perhaps the most significant observation that crossed my mind today is the idea that we really are going to make it. Before today I had my doubts but after today there is no doubt in my mind that we will remain as a viable Diocese. And it's a wonderful realization.

So, many, many thanks to all of you who kept us in your thoughts and prayers. Please keep it up. But guess what:

The Kids Are Alright.

Holy Family has its Annual Meeting

2008-01-20T19:14:00.000-08:00

So the Episcopal Church of the Holy Family had its annual meeting today. An overflow crowd (spilling over into the back field) met to reflect on the past year and look to the future.

We are grateful for the strong leadership of Father Keith Axberg (as one parishioner proclaimed to a standing ovation) and Marshal Johnston (our outgoing senior warden). We also unanimously passed the following resolution:

"We the parishioners of Holy Family Episcopal Church, Fresno, California,

"AFFIRM that we are and intend to remain a parish in the Diocese of San Joaquin, a part of the Episcopal Church in the United States of America, and a member of the Worldwide Anglican Communion;

"ACKNOWLEDGE the leadership of our Presiding Bishop, the Most Reverend Katharine Jefferts Schori, and thank her for the prayers and support she has provided our Diocese and parish;

"PRAY for the reconciliation of the parishes and people in the Diocese of San Joaquin so that we can move beyond those things that prevent and distract us from presenting our common witness to Christ's presence in the world. "

Amen!

And, as a newly elected member of the Vestry of Holy Family, I pledge my heart, hands and mind to the service of this parish, and the Episcopal Church.

When the Going Gets Weird

2008-01-20T18:38:00.000-08:00

The Weird Turn Pro.

The words of the immortal Hunter S. Thompson are especially appropriate in the aftermath of the aptly named "Saturday Morning Massacre."

So now that the quondam Bishop of San Joaquin has fired 6 out of the 8 members of the standing committee, what next? Rumor has it that the six contain all four clergy members. Since Father Snell did NOT vote at convention (perhaps as a function of his position on the dais) has he all along reserved the option of determining the relative verdancy of the pasture involved? It's time for him to put his money where his mouth should be.

Given this circumstance, and the dubious legality of this action, and the fact that it only takes a single member of the standing committee to call a special convention, one wonders if indeed the ousted members of the Standing Committee will take their apparent dismissal with equanimity. If I were them, I would immediately call a convention.

As Grendel would say, Do It Now!

I have been blessed

2008-01-19T20:59:00.000-08:00

Yes, it was quite some time ago, but I have been woefully negligent lately owing to the start of the Spring semester.

The always-delightful Kirsten has blessed me--in more ways than one!

I hope I can meet her someday--she seems like a wonderful person and so positive. She will make a great priest. And now it appears that she will actually be able someday to come to the (now and improved) Diocese of San Joaquin and celebrate. So I bless her right back.

I bless Father Jake for all he has done for the marginalized. I bless him for his ministry in giving us a voice and a place to get info.

I bless Padre Mickey for being such a fantastic priest. I wish we could steal him away from Panama to come to San Joaquin!

I bless FranIAm for her joie de vivre and exuberant sense of humor.

Palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss

2007-12-29T20:24:00.000-08:00

Your Famous Movie Kiss is from Romeo + Juliet

"Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night"

What Famous Movie Kiss Are You?

On the Verge of a Breakdown?

2007-12-29T19:59:00.000-08:00

Our Favorite Verger breaks radio silence at last. And it seems the Long Vigil in the desert has not withered his wit, nor custom staled his infinite variety.

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last/Slouches towards Atwater???

How the Grinch Stole San Joaquin, part 3

2007-12-27T21:32:00.000-08:00

St. Nicholas Church, Atwater received a letter on Christmas Day. Father Risard's "deployment at St. Nicholas is now over." Please note, this is not the same as being fired, because the Bishop said he would not do that, and the Bishop is an honorable man.

The locks at the church have been changed. Please note, this does not mean that St. Nicholas is closed down, because the Bishop said he would not do this, and the Bishop is an honorable man.

The Bishop said that nothing would change after the Diocesan Convention except who we pray for as presiding Bishop. Please note, this does not mean that the faithful at St. Nicholas in Exile will now have to meet at at the Castle Vista Rec Center because the Bishop.... oh, wait, never mind.

Here are the directions to the Rec Center.

Father Jake has all the details.

Merry Christmas Eve!

2007-12-24T13:15:00.000-08:00

As I spend this Christmas Eve with family and friends in Philly, my warmest wishes to all of you out there.

The light of the Christmas star to you,
The warmth of home and hearth to you,
The cheer and goodwill of friends to you,
The hope of a thousand angels to you,
The love of the Son and God's peace to you.

How the Grinch Stole San Joaquin, part 2

2007-12-23T19:43:00.001-08:00

From Andee, an eyewitness at Atwater and all-around "Gooperson" (as Grendel would say) as reported on Father Jake's Blog:

"Bp. Schofield did come to Atwater today, preached and celebrated (with Fr. Fred concelebrating and distributing the eucharist). At the end of the service, Schofield stood up and said that there had been much speculation about the reason for his visit, and he wanted to reassure everyone that (1) Fr. Fred had not been fired and (2) St. Nicholas was not being closed. Then, just as everyone was starting to take a tentative breath of relief, he said the other reason he wanted to come was to tell them that Atwater was no longer bringing in enough money to pay a full time priest, and that instead the diocese would be sending them supply priests occasionally. In other words--Fr. Fred wasn't being fired, he just wasn't going to be paid any longer, and the diocese wasn't even going to keep a steady part time priest, just send supply priests periodically.

Then, in his concluding remarks, Fr. Fred told the full and emotional story of the ways the diocesan leadership--most specifically, he named Bp. Schofield and Canon Gandenberger--had deliberately and maliciously undermined the health of the mission, fostering division and schism instead of love and compassion. Tears, prayers and applause from those who witnessed this!

Among those of us who came to be there in support of Fr. Fred and St. Nicholas were myself, members of Holy Family (Fresno), St. Francis in exile (former members of St. Francis Turlock), St. Michael's in exile (former members of St. Michaels in Sonora), St. Paul's Oakland, St. Aidan's San Francisco, Canon Bob Moore (Diocese of Olympia - also both husband of Bp. Nedi Rivera and Presiding Bp. Katherine's appointee to provide interim pastoral care to the Episcopal Diocese of San Joaquin), Fr. Michael Backlund (representing Bp. of Northern California Barry Beisner), and Remain Episcopal attorney Mike Glass. At least four of us present are on the Remain Episcopal Board.

They were surrounded by our love, and by the prayers of thousands of people from around the world.

Fr. Fred has no plans to leave, and I understand that funds from outside the diocese are being made available to make sure he is paid.

After the service and a wonderful extended coffee hour, a number of us helped them distribute bags of food and turkey certificates to a low income Housing Authority project in the area, where we were greeted with enthusiasm and warm Christmas thanks.

The morning ended with several of us joining Fr. Fred and his extended family (parents, two brothers, nieces and nephews) for lunch.

Emotional, difficult, heartwarming--and Christ was very present."

Lord, have mercy!

How the Grinch Stole San Joaquin, part 1

2007-12-21T17:33:00.000-08:00

(Excerpted from the article, "SAN JOAQUIN: Atwater vicar asks bishop to clarify planned visit" at the Episcopal News Service)

The vicar of St. Nicholas Episcopal Church in Atwater, California, in the Diocese of San Joaquin has written to Bishop John-David Schofield questioning his plan to visit the congregation December 23 and asking for clarification about his status as a bishop in the Episcopal Church.

The Rev. Fred Risard noted in his December 20 letter to Schofield that St. Nicholas had "already had the pleasure of your annual visitation for 2007."

"Without notice of the upcoming visit we have not had the opportunity to prepare candidates for confirmation, nor is the Bishop's Committee prepared to meet with you," Risard continued.

The vicar told Schofield that he has the permission of the mission's Bishop's Committee (which is the mission equivalent of a vestry) to request the clarifications. Risard also noted that he has consulted with legal counsel.

"We would like you to state to us your pastoral and canonical relationship with St. Nicholas Episcopal Church, and myself," Risard wrote in his letter. "You publicly stated at our diocesan convention that you no longer are the Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of San Joaquin, and instead you are a Bishop within the Province of the Southern Cone. As such, we understand your visit is simply to worship with us; there will be no liturgical role for you, neither celebrating nor preaching. The Episcopal Church welcomes all, and you are most welcome to worship, with the purpose of seeking transformation and reconciliation."....

Risard told ENS that Schofield spoke to a deacon at St. Nicholas by phone on December 20 and questioned the intent of Risard's letter. The vicar said that he emailed Schofield later in the day to assure him that he has no intention of banning him from worshipping with the mission congregation.

"I would never ban anybody from worship -- not even my worst enemy -- because I would hope that they would be transformed by the Eucharist and the grace of God," he said.

Risard said he is worried that Schofield is coming to St. Nicholas to either announce the closing of the mission or his removal as vicar, actions that Schofield has taken elsewhere in the diocese during his episcopate.

"Is it his intention to support the mission congregations in their call to worship and to serve the poor or does he want to close it?" Risard said. "He needs to go on record about what he's doing."

Noting that following their Eucharist, the mission congregation plans to "go out into the community to deliver groceries and coats to a dozen needy families as we seek to do the work of Mission which comes out of our worship of our Lord Jesus Christ, our Savior," Risard asked in his letter, "Will you be coming as our Episcopal Bishop, having repented of your actions at Diocesan Convention, seeking forgiveness and reconciliation? Or will you be coming to worship as a visiting foreign Bishop seeking to reconcile with your former congregation and Vicar, and, following the Mass, to join us as we take groceries and coats to the poor?"

_______________________________________

Aghaveagh says, "what a courageous priest!"

Read the entire article.

Guaranteed to be more boring than Padre Mickey!

2007-12-21T09:45:00.000-08:00

Our Great Christmas Adventure: we left the house yesterday evening to catch our plane for Philly (via Lost Wages), so that we would arrive two hours ahead of time. We put the two Rick Steves Back Door bags, one red overnight bag stuffed with socks, presents, and two giant Bubble Makers for the nephews, two briefcases and one purple coat (Liam's) in the trunk. Dan, our Classics student and Grendel-sitter, drove us to the Fresno-Yosemite International Airport (International? Well, they have flights to Mexico.)

The line in front of the US Airways counter was not that long, and so we took our place. However, for the next 15 minutes, it did not move. After an hour, we realized that (as Grendel would say) Something was Very Wrong. Two hours later (really!), we got up to the desk. Our flight to Vegas had been delayed by over an hour, and so virtually everyone who was in front of us had missed their connecting flights and had to be re-routed, as did we. And because it's the Christmas travel season, there were major problems finding flights that were not full. After another half hour (I am totally accurate here, I want you to know; it's part of the excruciating boredom I promised) we had our new flight plans: we would return for a 6:30 am flight on American Airlines to Dallas/FW, and from Dallas to Philly, arriving there only 9 hours later than our expected arrival time.

They gave us a hotel voucher so that we could get our 3.5 hours of sleep before we had to be back at 4:30 am. I suppose we could have tried to go home, but we were dropped off so we didn't have a car, and we didn't even have a house key. So we trudged with our two Rick Steves Back Door bags, one red overnight bag stuffed with socks, presents, and two giant Bubble Makers for the nephews, two briefcases and one purple coat (Liam's) to the Holiday Inn a half-block away. We caught the bar ten minutes before closing and managed to order two beers and two chicken quesadillas before they threw us out. We then hauled the two Rick Steves Back Door bags, one red overnight bag stuffed with socks, presents, and two giant Bubble Makers for the nephews, two briefcases and one purple coat (Liam's) up the stairs (what, Fresno hotels have not heard of elevators?) to our room, only to find that the key did not work.

An employee came up to let us in. By the time we had finished eating and were drifting off to sleep, it was about 12 midnight. The nice man on the telephone wake-up call that rang at 3:30 said that today's weather would be sunny and warm. I think it was an old message.

So we schlepped our two Rick Steves Back Door bags, one red overnight bag stuffed with socks, presents, and two giant Bubble Makers for the nephews, two briefcases and one purple coat (Liam's) back to the airport and over to the line at the American Airlines counter. We waited in line. Luckily the line was moving pretty quickly, and in only about half an hour we were at the counter. We presented the paperwork that the nice man (Andre)* had given us last night to the equally nice lady (Claudia)* and found out that our confirmed reservation Did Not Exist. After about a half hour of waiting, and several phone conversations with Bob* at the US Airlines counter Claudia was able to get the Magic Numbers that, upon entry into her computer, would allow her to put us on standby for the flight.

* Please note: all names changed to protect the innocent and the incompetent.

Oh, dear...when Claudia tried to punch in the Magic Numbers it appears that they contained too many digits and hence lacked the requisite Magick. Another attempt to get Bob back on the phone. He was having none of it. We stood to the side while Claudia helped the people who actually were going to get on the plane for Dallas FW and tried to straighten things out with Bob over the phone, pleading several times in a plaintive tone for him not to hang up on her.

A total of two hours after we showed up at the AA counter, it became clear to all concerned: Claudia, Liam, me, and the six white German Shepard puppies from (evidently) a puppy mill that were being sent off as Christmas presents to various destinations (and who howled inconsolably in solidarity with us for an hour, nearly driving one of the agents to canicide) that we were going nowhere, except back to US Airways. Claudia apologized profusely, we thanked her profusely, and we trudged back to the US Airways with the two Rick Steves Back Door bags, one red overnight bag stuffed with socks, presents, and two giant Bubble Makers for the nephews, two briefcases and one purple coat (Liam's).

This time there were only three people in front of us, so after only an hour we found ourselves talking to none other than Bob himself. He was of the opinion that there was nothing wrong with the reservations that Andre had made the night before, that somehow the American Airlines people had screwed up, and he also broadly hinted that somehow it must be our fault for waiting at the AA counter for 2.5 hours. All very well and good, but it doesn't get us and our two Rick Steves Back Door bags, one red overnight bag stuffed with socks, presents, and two giant Bubble Makers for the nephews, two briefcases and one purple coat (Liam's) to Philly.

He typed arcane data into the computer for what seemed like hours (I could feel the stony stares of those waiting in line boring into my back, so I didn't turn around) but was in reality only about 20 minutes, and finally he had our answer:

We could board a flight to Phoenix at 7:15 pm, arrive in Phoenix at 9:52, then board a flight to Chicago at 11 pm, stay there for two-and-a-half hours, then board a flight to Philly, arriving there Saturday at 8:47 am…only 36 hours after we left our house with the two Rick Steves Back Door bags, one red overnight bag stuffed with socks, presents, and two giant Bubble Makers for the nephews, two briefcases and one purple coat (Liam's). And that was it. As compensation for our time, we got meal vouchers and an upgrade to first class on the Phoenix to Chicago leg (that was all that was available in First Class.

So now we sit in the magnificent Fresno-Yosemite International Airport, and since we couldn't check our bags yet, we’re stuck in the Ante-Inferno and have to lug around with us the two Rick Steves Back Door bags, one red overnight bag stuffed with socks, presents, and two giant Bubble Makers for the nephews, two briefcases and one purple coat (Liam's). So we sprung for a luggage cart. We also sprung for a day of wireless Internet access (unlike real airports, Fresno-Yosemite International Airport charges for wireless) so that I can relate to you the story of our Christmas Advent Odyssey, and as a real treat I have taken pictures of some of the exciting objects that will occupy our time for the next eight hours.

The two Rick Steves Back Door bags, one red overnight bag stuffed with socks, presents, and two giant Bubble Makers for the nephews, two briefcases and one purple coat (Liam's).

My Christmas present from Liam--I might as well wear 'em in the airport--we'll be here a while!

Distinctive Headgear and gloves I never get to wear in Fresno.

The Fresno FishWrap.

My Gingerbread Latte.

What I should be reading instead of blogging.

One of the Bubblemakers for the Nephews

A cool set of children's books for reading aloud to the Nephews.

Bored yet? So are we! Here Liam uses the Purple Coat to take a short nap.

By the way, it takes exactly four minute to walk from one end of the airport to the other and back. As Hamlet said, "I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams."

So, Padre Mickey, are you still there? Padre?? [ZZZzzzzzzzzzz...]

The Belfries of all Christendom

2007-12-14T15:00:00.000-08:00

John Gurka's version of "I heard the Bells on Christmas Day"

It always gives me goosebumps.

I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play
And mild and sweet the words repeat,
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

I thought how as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had roll'd along th' unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bow'd my head:
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong, and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men."

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men."

Next Sunday at a church very near you...

2007-12-14T13:30:00.000-08:00

(saw it at Lindy's place)

All over but the grading...

2007-12-14T09:15:00.000-08:00

Well, stick a fork in this semester; it is done. All but the grading...I finished giving my last exam on Tuesday and now am working my way through a huge stack of Blue Books, research papers, extra-credit assignments and the inevitable frantic flurry of late assignments ("to be turned in by 5 pm Thursday").

There is not much to be done but put nose to the grindstone, play Christmas... er...Advent music to keep one's spirits bright, take a break when one gets too disgruntled (Oh, just for once I'd like to be gruntled!), and keep the kettle warm.

Tonight is fall graduation with its pomp and ceremony. Much better to wear full academicals when it is 40 degrees out than when it is 100!

I hope you are warm and safe out there!

As the Dust Settles

2007-12-11T18:25:00.000-08:00

It's been a whirlwind few days. Saturday, after the convention, we all met at Holy Family to console, be consoled, and pray. We talked a lot about our fears, our hopes, and our sense of loss. Afterwards I spent some quiet time setting up for the Second Sunday in Advent service. The familiar task of filling the candles, setting up the altar, and preparing the elements was very soothing to a soul troubled by the recent events.

Sunday morning we had what must have been a record attendance for a non-holiday Sunday for our two services. We almost ran out of wafers! Luckily some prudent Altar Guild member put out a reserve :-). I can't honestly say if it will last, but it was wonderful. The mood was optimistic and the fellowship grand. Father Keith gave a great homily about "How can we find peace--in the world, in the church, in our hearts" filled with his usual humor and thoughtfulness.

Well, towards the end of the service several press crews started showing up, including one from Univision. Ojalá que usted esté aquí, Padre Mickey, for we had no fluent Spanish speaker at the early service. (As a bit of humor, we delegates at the HF table at convention began to speak in Spanish after the vote, but my Spanish is very rusty.) All the more reason seriously to discern your calling, Padre; we need you here in the continuing Diocese of San Joaquin!

There was a piece in the L.A. Times that had some good things to say, including the last bit about Father Keith:

"Meanwhile, Axberg, Holy Family's rector since 2003, urged his congregation Sunday not to worry about the future. He told them about the convention votes and answered a few questions about steps likely to be taken by the national church. Finally, he asked them to pray for all involved in the diocese's continuing struggle, including for Schofield. First one, then all, rose to applaud their priest."

Now things are starting to settle down from the buzz over convention, but as the word spreads, some folks in other parishes (not delegates, but the people in the pews) are beginning to realize what this vote means, and they are asking questions and writing letters.

One last thing: you cannot know how much your support has meant to us. Father Jake has opened up his blog as a place for comfort and news, and reading your comments has done much to lift our spirits. Kristin, Paul, Diane, Padre Mickey, and others, thanks for dropping by and adding your words of support!

Personally, I feel most for the missions, who have no choice in this process, and whose clergy are appointed by the Bishop. They can be closed at his desire, and their buildings sold. I hope that this does not happen, but as parishes begin to place their assessments into accounts earmarked for the Episcopal Church, not the Province of the Southern Cone, the diocesan budget will feel the pinch.

We are still here

2007-12-08T20:48:00.000-08:00

We mourn the departure of many of our brothers and sisters in Christ who did what they thought was right. We love them and pray for them and wish them well as they join the Southern Cone.

We, however, are not going anywhere. We ARE the Episcopal Diocese of San Joaquin, and although we are currently without a bishop, we have godly clergy to lead us and courageous laity eager to carry on the Great Commission.

Diocesan Convention, Day one

2007-12-07T22:14:00.001-08:00

The first day of convention consisted mainly of procedural matters.

I attended the Eucharist that opened convention this morning at St. James Cathedral. It has been a year since I attended mass here. I felt a certain sadness because we used to attend here regularly until we felt we could no longer do so in good conscience.

It was certainly awesome in its ceremony! Three pointy hats, dozens of priests and deacons, pomp and pageantry, glorious music and wonderful sung liturgy. There was nothing liturgically here that I did not agree with--why am I not orthodox in their eyes?

The Bishop of Bolivia, the Right Reverend Frank Lyons, gave the sermon. In essence, he said that we are on a journey, and that it may not always be comfortable. In fact, although we may wish for a comfortable Jesus who shows up in the morning to give us tea, this is not the case. It's scary stuff.

In the afternoon, we heard the Bishop's address. Rather than giving you my paraphrase, here is a link to the text of the speech.

I will blog more tomorow. I am exhausted in body and soul.

Thoughts for this weekend...from our friend Billy.

2007-12-06T19:14:00.001-08:00

THE World is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,	5
The winds that will be howling at all hours
And are up-gather'd now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.—Great God! I'd rather be
A pagan suckled in a creed outworn,—	10
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.

San Joaquin Diocesan Convention is coming up

2007-11-29T15:33:00.001-08:00

Our Diocesan convention is a week away. As a delegate, I must admit I am not looking forward to it at all. It is most likely that the second vote on the constitutional changes will pass by a large majority.

And so those of us who do not want to abandon our Church wait for the vote that will put us in no-man's land--not wishing to "leave" with the rest of the diocese (as if they could actually vote to remove an Episcopal Diocese out of the Episcopal Church) and not knowing how soon, if at all, the National Church will act to place some sort of presence here.

I feel two main emotions: sadness and frustration.

I'm sad because my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ no longer feel that they can worship with us.

I'm sad because our Bishop, who is supposed to visit all of his parishes, never visited Holy Family, although we repeatedly asked him when he was going to come.

I'm sad because when the vote passes, everyone around me will be rejoicing. I will not be.

I'm sad because my fellow Episcopalian professor now calls herself an Anglican, and there is now an unspoken barrier between us.

I'm frustrated by people who know little or nothing about the history of the Bible and the transmission of texts speaking of the "faith once delivered" as set in stone (as if it were some sort of moldy archaeological artifact!)

I'm frustrated because my theology is just as orthodox as theirs is, and in most areas certainly more Anglo-Catholic, and I'm getting tired of being labeled a heretic. The bishop said in a recent interview with our local ABC news affiliate that the Episcopal Church has "abandoned much of the Bible and its ethical teachings." This is, in a word, poppycock. I'm so tired of this refrain, "you disagree with me, therefore you're a heretic..."

The Bishop has said time and again that those of us who do not want to leave (although he puts it as those of us who want to "leave the diocese") will be allowed to do so, and he will not take our property. I want to think he is a man of his word.

In his pastoral letter, he states:

"Should the second reading of the Constitutional changes receive the necessary two thirds of each order voting affirmatively next month, this will mean that the Diocese is free to accept the invitation of the Province of the Southern Cone."

He also says that it may not be permanent--that (citing the old invalid comparison to the Dioceses of Southern States during the Civil War) if the Episcopal Church repents, the Diocese may return. Hmm. Don't hold your breath.

Already chinks in the armor have begun to show, and the vote may not be as overwhelming as last year's first vote. I have to be honest, though, if the vote doesn't pass, we'll still be in the same position of Limbo, with a Bishop who no longer wishes to pastor us, and we will continue to endure the same misery. Let's end this now and get back to our true mission--the Great Commission.

We could all use your prayers Friday and Saturday next.

Goodbye, Sneakaround Jones

2007-11-17T23:54:00.000-08:00

Sneakaround Jones died this evening.

We were out today "getting and spending" as the poet says. In a lull during cooking dinner I went to check on Sneakaround Jones. He was sitting in the litter box--he's never done that before. I lifted him out and put him on the bed. I could tell something was wrong. He seemed weak and his legs looked very odd. This was about 8:00.

I took him in the blanket out to the couch and told Liam that there was something wrong with Sneakaround. We laid him on the couch, wrapped in the blanket. He was still purring. Over the next hour he became progressively worse. I called the Shabazz-man and got his service. I left a message to call, that we may need him to come out.

Soon it became apparent that Sneakaround was failing fast. We told him that it was ok--he could go to sleep and that we would see him soon. We kept vigil.

For the most part he seemed very weak although at one point he tried to get up. His breathing became very labored. Liam had to walk Grendel and so I told him that Sneakaround would wait till he got back. When Liam brought Grendel back, I could see that Sneakaround was laboring. I called Liam. We forgot about dinner.

We sat on the couch and cradled him for about an hour. He died in our arms. He did not seem to be in pain. He gave a couple of deep breaths and then he left.

We said goodbye and wrapped him in the blanket. We brought the other cats to say goodbye too, so they would not wonder what happened.
Then we put him, still wrapped in the blanket, in a cardboard box, and Liam brought him out to the garage. We'll take him tomorrow to the SPCA to be cremated.

He was a good cat.

Sneakaround Jones is sick

2007-11-10T22:40:00.000-08:00

We're not exactly sure what is wrong, but the vet (The Shabazz-Man) thinks it may be bladder cancer. Sneakaround has always been plagued by bladder infections, but lately it has gotten worse. We have tried antibiotics and steroids and anti-spasmodic medicine...nothing seems to help. But he seems in good spirits and he's not in pain that we can tell--his quality of life is still good. But soon we may have to make a difficult decision.

I've never loved any cat this much--Sneakaround is special. Dog-like in his affections, a real people-lover. He sits next to me as I type, purring away. Hi ssoft snoring on the couch is the most comforting sound in the world. He is about 13 years old as far as we can tell-he and his brother Bertie Wooster were brought to us by Jean the Cat Lady when I was still in graduate school at Bryn Mawr. He's already been through at least nine lives--operations for ear tumors, a needle in the throat, the infections that have landed him in the pet hospital more than once...and has yet he has always kept his good humor.

I asked Cassandra, the vet's assistant, if the Shabazz-man ever made house calls to give the last necessary medicine--I don't want Sneakaround's last minutes to be in the vet's office, but at home with us. She said that he would for his favorite clients. I hope we will know when the right time will be. Until then I try to give him extra love and special food. He has his own place to sleep when he wants to get some time away from the other cats.

I don't even like thinking about it, but the visit by the Shabazz-man is the last bit of loving care we can give him.

Happy Guy Fawkes Day...and my birthday!

2007-11-05T00:01:00.000-08:00

Remember, remember the Fifth of November...

I do love birthdays, mine especially. And since I celebrate Birthday Tide, there's still time to buy presents! It lasts for a ~~week~~ month!

Thank you, MP, for the lovely music! Yer the best!

What type of Liberal am I?

2007-11-04T22:29:00.000-08:00

My Liberal Identity:

You are a Reality-Based Intellectualist, also known as the liberal elite. You are a proud member of what’s known as the reality-based community, where science, reason, and non-Jesus-based thought reign supreme.

Take the quiz at www.FightConservatives.com

I guess I never thought of myself as either intellectualist or elite...

St. Laika

2007-11-03T08:38:00.000-07:00

On a cold November morning fifty years ago today
Russia sent a dog named Laika to the cosmos far away.

How ironic that your capsule bore the name of Sputnik Two!
For there would be no companion on this odyssey for you.

Good-natured mutt, a street survivor, how life must have seemed so good
When they saved you, brought you home and bathed you, trained you, gave you food.

Little Barker, Little Muttchik, unsuspecting pioneer
How could scientists have named you and yet be so cavalier?

Trustingly, you let them strap you in the cockpit, shut the door–
“It’s the same game we had played, about a thousand times before”

Surely soon, they would come back, release you, give you treats and praise
As you waited, patiently, yet puzzled by the long delays.

Then the take-off, oh, how frightening, as your heart beat twice as fast,
Three times, as you felt the power of the g-force from the blast

Did you whimper? Did you shudder? Did you fear that cosmic night?
Did you wonder why your friends had sent you on this fatal flight?

Or did love and deep devotion to them calm your deep alarm
Trusting, hoping, still expecting them to keep you from all harm?

And then, finally, was nothing, only silent, empty space
Only Little Laika, sleeping, still with hope upon her face

On a chilly April evening, finally your journey’s end
Shooting star lights up the night sky, welcome home, my valiant friend.

Blessed Laika, we are sorry, for the horrors we put you through
Blessed Laika, please forgive us, for we know not what we do.

Irish triad

2007-11-02T17:28:00.000-07:00

Three things that soothe the weary spirit: a cup of strong sweet tea, the smoky smell of a peat fire, the soft snoring of an old cat.

Friday Evening Office Hour Blogging

2007-10-26T17:39:00.000-07:00

My office hour after my last class is always fairly quiet, allowing me to get a bit of work done. Or (getting one's priorities straight) some blogging!

If a picture is worth a thousand words, this one speaks volumes:

(Guess what I'll be doing this weekend!)

But not tonight. Not on Friday Night!

It's time for Chinese food, a glass of wine, the latest Netflix, and some Blogsurfing. I have a feeling Red Mr. Peanut is going to be brilliant tonight!!

St. Crispin's Day

2007-10-25T22:07:00.000-07:00

This day is called the Feast of Crispian:

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,

Will stand a-tiptoe when the day is named,

And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

Henry V, IV iii.

The best ever battle speech from Shakespeare, performed by the best Shaespearean actor. It gives me goosebumps every time.

Harry Potter would be proud.

2007-10-19T13:01:00.000-07:00

A true hero speaks out over at Caliban's Dream. Please read this compelling story and spread the word.

Bad Cold

2007-10-18T19:25:00.001-07:00

I am sick with a cold, nothing really serious, just feeling sub par. I should be grading papers but that is far more than my poor brain can take at this juncture. So I am reading other people's blogs. Padre Mickey is his usual eloquent self, with posts about all the saints in the past week. Grandmère Mimi has a potpourri of insightful observations in lovely posts with great art, including a leaf from one of my all-time favorites, Les Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry. (I resisted the temptation to insert a "the" in front of Les--Liam always brings up that the "The La Brea Tar Pits" actually means "The The Tar Tar" Pits...)

Mad Priest is his usual brilliant self, although catching some flack from the Colonials for his use of a certain taboo noun. If I say I can see both sides of the argument, and agree with both positions, does that land me a spot in Dante's Ante-Inferno?

And Grendel has launched his own blog.

I wish I knew what this New York party was all about...but on the other hand, I wasn't invited (self-pitying sob).

Wireless is Wonderful

2007-10-17T13:47:00.000-07:00

We now have wireless at the house! It's amazing how much more work I've been able to do in the last few days: I can answer my e-mail I can surf the 'net, and (best of all) I can read OCICBW nestled in my own comfy little bed, while Grendel growls contentedly nearby.

Yesterday I was on campus for 13 hours....and except for a brief lunch worked the whole time. (Good Grief! you'd think I'd be caught up by by now but no, I seem to be even more behind than before!)

As I write this, my Medieval History students are working on their midterms. I can almost hear those busy little minds churning out essays on the Crusades and the development of the Church in the early medieval period.....

Blessing of the Animals at Holy Family

2007-10-13T17:00:00.000-07:00

What a great turnout! The parishioners of Holy Family and their companion animals came out in full force on Saturday. (The unofficial count is 17 dogs, 11 cats, and one rubber chicken.)

Father Keith did a wonderful job, first blessing all Animals of the World, those to the North, to the East, to the South, and to the West.

The he bestowed a personal blessing on each individual animal (including the Rubber Chicken):

Kristin, our Parish Administrative Assistant, gets a blessing for her dog.

Lee and her kitties...

Grendel behaved so well! I was very proud of him.

There was a wonderful service with music, and they played Grendel's favorite hymn, "All Creatures of Our Lord and King"! There were doggie and cat treats for the quadrupeds, and other treats for the bipeds. ("Don't get them mixed up," Father Keith urged us.)

This is Kathleen's beagle. Isn't she lovely?

Oh, and here's the Rubber Chicken.

Yes, it is!

Non-Canonical Cat Blogging

2007-10-06T14:18:00.000-07:00

Sneakaround Jones likes this spot in the bookcase.

Who let the cat out of the bag? (Actually, it's The Pig.)

Phoebe the Moon-Kitty chomps on Elephant's Child.

Grendel offers a Poem for St. Francis

2007-10-04T16:19:00.000-07:00

Grendel the Misanthropic Dog wanted me to post a poem he wrote in honor of St. Francis. Well, it's actually a song, to be sung to the last bit of "All Creatures of Our God and King", the words of which were written by St. Francis. Grendel didn't know that when he composed the song; it must be serendipity:

What does it Mean to be a Dog?
Not the same as being a Frog.
Dog and Frog,
Dog and Frog,
They are Not the Same.

(He begs me point out that the capitalization is Very Important Indeed.)

If Grendel behaves himself, he will join the other animals at the Parish Blessing of the Animals this Saturday. Hmmm. I can't believe I just typed the words "Grendel behaves himself."

Madeleine L'Engle, 1918-2007

2007-10-01T19:31:00.000-07:00

My very first post here at TMBN was a quote from one of the best children's books ever written, A Wrinkle In Time by Madeleine L'Engle.

It is hard to describe the impact that her books made on me. I read Meet the Austins as a very young girl. It wasn't hard to imagine that this household, with its joy, love of learning and music, faith and stable family life was where I really belonged. My own home life was marked by dingy and ignoble poverty, anti-intellectualism, alcoholism, and a seemingly endless stream of stepfathers, one of whom nearly soured me on religion for life with his Pentecostal-flavored beatings with a thick, black Belt.

Small wonder that the life of the imagination was my refuge, and L'Engle's books in particular offered the glimpse of a life illuminated by learning. Here I first encountered names unheard of in my house: Dante, Donne, Bach, Mozart, Frost...

Whenever we moved (which was often) I quickly found the nearest public library. My first question after "How can I get a library card?" was always "Is there a limit on how many books I can check out?" The only reading material at our house I can remember was a set of the Bible Story Books (I can still see their sky-blue covers) and I had long since devoured all of them, winning undeserved praise at Sunday School for my knowledge of the Bible. The punishment for crimes not serious enough to merit The Belt was simple and devastatingly effective: loss of reading privileges.

A few months ago I fled to the children's section of our campus library and "sought to borrow, from my books surcease of sorrow." Camped out in a carrel for a couple of hours, I re-read Meet The Austins. It's a simple book, really, but has held up well. All those memories came back, some bitter, but many sweet, of the place I had made for myself as a child.

In the weeds

2007-09-28T17:11:00.000-07:00

Hard to believe that it's been a month since I have taken even two free moments to blog. Enough of this. Work be blowed. Bid it goodbye. The work will never be done, completed. I hereby grant myself a small space in which to write everyday.

Why not? It's now the end of my office hours, Friday, the last student has left, the weekend looms, full of the promise of at least two hours' leisure, and I am listening to Sinead O'Connor sing that great old ballad of Irish courage, The Foggy Dew:

It never fails to send shivers down my spine:

But to and fro in my dreams I go and I kneel and pray for you,
For slavery fled, O glorious dead, when you fell in the foggy dew.

So, anyway, I have to go do some shopping because tomorrow is Holy Family's Greek Dinner and I am doing the stuffed grape leaves and the hummos. Maybe I'll have a chance to write more tomorrow--lots to tell: a new computer, a new bookbinding press (which alas, has sat on the table unused since I got it for lack of otium) the sad news of the passing of Madeleine L'Engle, and the continuing saga of our dear disfunctional diocese (DDD? Hmmm.) And perhaps while the grape leaves cook I can catch up on the many Friday Night Red Mr. Peanut Bank episodes I have missed!

But I promise to be more diligent in future, although I'm sure that most have given up on Aghaveagh long since...nonetheless, perhaps a traveler or two will pass by and offer greetings.

So I leave you with a lovely image from an old country saying:

"THE closing of an Autumn evening is like the running of a hound across the moor.
Night is a good herd: she brings all creatures home."

St. Augustine of Hippo

2007-08-28T08:27:00.000-07:00

Of Course!

2007-08-09T10:03:00.000-07:00

You're Ireland!

Mystical and rain-soaked, you remain mysterious to many people, and this makes you intriguing. You also like a good night at the pub, though many are just as worried that you will blow up the pub as drink your beverage of choice. You're good with words, remarkably lucky, and know and enjoy at least fifteen ways of eating a potato. You really don't like snakes.

(quiz nicked from Doxy, who nicked it from Eileen)

Take the Country Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid

The Book Quiz

2007-08-09T09:43:00.000-07:00

You're The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe!
by C.S. Lewis
You were just looking for some decent clothes when everything changed quite dramatically. For the better or for the worse, it is still hard to tell. Now it seems like winter will never end and you feel cursed. Soon there will be an epic struggle between two forces in your life and you are very concerned about a betrayal that could turn the balance. If this makes it sound like you're re-enacting Christian theological events, that may or may not be coincidence. When in doubt, put your trust in zoo animals.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

On The Beach

2007-08-08T14:37:00.000-07:00

is the title of the long-awaited blog by David Charles Walker, with absolutely transcendent music– and dancing! He even has a triad of his own devising worthy of any Irish bard:

"Three transfiguring events:
• the passing of a friend,
• the glory of a transformed night sky,
• Christ upon the mountain peak."

Put on your dancing shoes and enjoy!

Three Things

2007-08-08T13:28:00.000-07:00

Three sparks that kindle love: a face, demeanour, speech.

"Three Things" are traditional Irish triads.

The Bard of Armagh

2007-08-06T09:52:00.000-07:00

I am feeling very sentimental and sad because Tommy Makem, the great Irish singer, the Bard of Armagh, has died.

He sang with the Clancy Brothers for some years before going solo. He was the voice of the Children of Ireland in Exile, for anyone who had even a drop of Irish blood, or who wished he did. Anyone whose heart soars at the sound of a plaintive penny whistle, or the sweet, lyrical strains of a fiddle.

"We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?"

And so, in honor of Tommy, I imagine everyone coming together for a wild, joyous ceilidh. Oh, it will be held at Mad Priest's-- that way he couldn't make any excuses about the journey. Can you see the joyful crowd on the dance floor, with Grandmère leading the way so dignified and grand in her midnight blue silk taffeta, and Wormwood's Doxy cutting a very fine figure indeed (in red, of course), so that all the lads would line up for a dance, and she'd break their hearts by the end of the evening. Everyone would fall hushed to see Cecilia dancing so sweetly with her Beloved during a slow, sad ballad, and wipe their eyes and remember what it was like to be young and newly in love. Ellie would wear out a pair of red dancing shoes and drop exhausted into a chair, to be revived with ices and shandy. Mad Priest would eye the scene with a proprietary air from his seat of honor and smile graciously on all. But the real stars of the dance floor would be ePiscoSours and Counterlight, whose sophisticated dance moves would amaze the crowd. (Lisabeth would try, but you know what they say...)

Me, I'm behind the bar pouring pints, much too shy to venture onto the dance floor...(but towards the cusp of the evening, when most everyone is feeling blurred and happy from too much Jameson's, if Padre Mickey asked very sweetly??...no, perhaps not.)

And then, at the end, when they played "The Parting Glass," we would all rise and sway gently to the music, and remember what it is about this frustrating, bewildering, mortal coil that keeps us all from wanting to shuffle it off quite yet. That is, in a word, Love.

And now, please join the party!

Simply Marvelous.

2007-08-06T09:19:00.001-07:00

The Mad One has a particularly lovely Midnight Jukebox that I highly recommend. Of, course, I am behind the times but I had a difficult time loading his pages over the weekend. So please listen if you haven't already.

Feast of the Transfiguration

2007-08-06T09:13:00.000-07:00

I send you to Padre Mickey and Grandmère Mimi for some lovely thoughts on the day.

Three Things

2007-08-05T16:58:00.000-07:00

Three fewnesses that are better than plenty: a fewness of fine words, a fewness of cows in grass, a fewness of friends around ale.

St. Sithney, Patron of Grendel and other Mad Dogs

2007-08-04T10:01:00.001-07:00

I am reliably informed by Nicholodeon (of the aptly named DOGma reVIEW) that today is the name-day of St. Sithney, patron saint of mad dogs, and this is confirmed by the 13th century martyrology of Exteter Cathedral. According to Nicholas Orme (no relation to Nicholodeon, I think) in The Saints of Cornwall, God offered to make St. Sithney the patron of young girls. Sithney, alarmed that he would get no respite from the young lasses pestering him for finery and husbands, wisely backed off, choosing a less dangerous tutelage, that of mad dogs!

Mad and sick dogs were taken to drink from St. Sithney's spring near Helston, in Cronwall, to cure them.

Here is a photo of my very own mad dog, Grendel the Misanthropic Dog.

When I have Fears that I may Cease to Be

2007-08-03T22:34:00.000-07:00

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

--John Keats

I enjoy cross-referencing.

2007-07-30T18:31:00.000-07:00

I am in love with LibraryThing. The website allows you to catalog your library online. I came across it accidentally when I was doing a book-title search. It allows you to catalog up to 200 of your books for free--but I immediately sprang for the twenty-five dollar, lifetime, as-many-books-as-you-want membership. Absurdly reasonable! (No, I don't work for them...)

I have had such fun cataloging the books! And it's so useful--I have devised a code to let me know where the books are, so that (for example) if I need to see if I have a copy of Dante's Inferno at home, I just look for the tag "D" (for domus). I can figure out that I have way too many copies of Wheelock's Latin, in various editions. And (here's the most fun) I can see who else has the books I own, how many unique books I own (i.e. no one else on LibraryThing owns a copy) and other fun statistics. Of course, you can keep your library private, but what's the fun in that?

I also bought a little CueCat to scan barcodes of ISBN numbers --this speeds up the entering process considerably, although most of my books don't have a barcode as they are too old. So far I estimate that I have about 1/3 of the books in the office on campus entered, and about 1/10 of the home library done. I can sort by tag (currently I own six books on Egyptian hieroglyphs, all at school, one of which no other LibraryThingers own).

If this sounds like obsessively good fun, check it out! If not, well, I'm sure you are geekily obsessed with something else, so don't make fun of me.

Buffy: You're beginning to scare me, Giles. You need to have some fun. You know, there's this place you can go, right, and you sit in the dark, and there are these moving pictures, right, and the pictures tell a story.
Giles: Yes, yes, ha, ha, very droll. I'll have you know that I have very many relaxing hobbies.
Buffy: Such as?
Giles: Well, um... I enjoy cross-referencing.
Buffy: Do you stuff your own shirts, or do you send them out?

"Halloween," Buffy The Vampire Slayer, season 2

St. James' Cathedral changes its name: article from the Fresno Bee

2007-07-13T17:02:00.000-07:00

St. James' Cathedral changes its name

By Ron Orozco / The Fresno Bee

07/07/07 04:29:11

St. James' Episcopal Cathedral in east-central Fresno has a new name -- St. James' Anglican Cathedral.

New marquee signs bearing the name change have been installed at the church, headquarters for the Episcopal Diocese of San Joaquin, and just east on church property at Cedar and Dakota avenues. The church is at 4147 E. Dakota Ave.

The Rev. Carlos L. Raines, St. James' pastor and the cathedral's dean, says the name change is a statement to the community that St. James' and other diocesan parishes have differences with the U.S. Episcopal Church.

In 2003, the U.S. Episcopal Church elected V. Gene Robinson of New Hampshire as its first openly gay bishop. In December, delegates at the Diocese of San Joaquin convention in Fresno voted to split from the U.S. Episcopal Church and align with the Anglican Communion over differences about sexuality and the Bible.

The Anglican Communion, which has 77 million members worldwide, oversees the U.S. Episcopal Church.

The Diocese of San Joaquin split will require a second vote in October, at the 2007 convention, to become official.

Of the name change taking place before the second vote, the Rev. Van McCalister, diocesan spokesman, says, "We're already, by association, constituent members of the Anglican Communion." So St. James' and other diocesan parishes have a right to claim Anglicanism, he says.

-- Ron Orozco, The Fresno Bee

A letter to the editor by Edward Brennan of Visalia in today's Fresno Bee notes, in part, that:

"The name change at St. James Episcopal Cathedral to "Anglican" is a wake-up call for Episcopalians. The bishop has been in disagreement with the Episcopal Church for years and at the last Diocesan Convention the constitution was purged of all references to the Episcopal Church.

The bishop also made clear his intention to place the Diocese of San Joaquin under the authority of the Anglican churches of the Global South. If you are curious about the future orthodoxy that the bishop will impose, ask your local minister to provide the congregation with the Resolutions Adopted at the May 6, 2002 Deanery Meeting."

Aghaveagh notes:
Holy Family Church in Fresno just installed new signs reading "Holy Family Episcopal Church" (Italics mine). They, however, have no plans to update these signs in the near future.

Another fun way to waste time...er, be creative

2007-07-07T17:09:00.000-07:00

Such fun! Not only does Dylan post the "10 least popular memory verses for Sunday school", she also provides us with a link to a site whereat you can create your own motivational poster using said verses! (thanks to Susie ad loc for the verse suggestion--by the way, she has a great blog and I love her Friday Fives!)