Tony Bennett and Stevie Wonder – For Once in my life live

‘Nuff said.

I’ve posted this poem before

I know I’ve posted this poem before, but it’s days like today that remind me of him. The hustle of Christmas is over–I have time to think now. I remember watching Nester the Long Eared Donkey with him. I remember watching Emmit Otter’s Christmas with him. He was a crazy, emotional, Italian, but he was my dad and I miss him–especially on days like today–days when we would spend all day watching shows together and eating food together–even making the pointless trips up to his favorite stores so he could say Merry Christmas to what most people would call strangers–he called them friends. He would travel 5 miles to spend money with his friends–people who took care of him. So, on this day after Christmas, I repeat the poem I wrote for him shortly after his death.

The Gladiator
He was a warrior who fought lions
And battled with himself

He sought an end to his crying
And the bottle on the shelf

He was a man full of love
Yet full of hate

He spoke of the dove
Yet couldn’t escape

He was moved by the Lord
But tormented by a demon

He lived by the sword
But couldn’t stop the screamin

He believed in something
Even sought the beyond

He thought he was loving
Even had a special bond

He had more than he thought
Us who tried to stay

He accidentally brought
Us together that day

I love you, Dad. Merry Christmas. See ya when I see ya.

Chesterton T. Bunny

I was looking for some images of Chesterton when I was pleasantly surprised to stumble across this one.

Chesterton T. Bunny

The drawing was done by David T. Nethery, a former Disney artist who runs the blog, “You’re a gazelle”. Make sure you hop on over there (sorry couldn’t resist) and check it out. His cartooning skills are flipping fantastic. Also, judging from his About Me page, he appears to be a Christian with interests in Chesterton, Lewis, and Tolkien among others.

Merry Christmas

“In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be enrolled.

This was the first enrollment, when Quirin’i-us was governor of Syria.

And all went to be enrolled, each to his own city.

And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be enrolled with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child.

And while they were there, the time came for her to be delivered.

And she gave birth to her first-born son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

And in that region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with fear.

And the angel said to them, “Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the people; for to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.

And this will be a sign for you: you will find a babe wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.”

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom he is pleased!”

When the angels went away from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has made known to us.”

And they went with haste, and found Mary and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.

And when they saw it they made known the saying which had been told them concerning this child; and all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them.

But Mary kept all these things, pondering them in her heart.

And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

And at the end of eight days, when he was circumcised, he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.

And when the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord (as it is written in the law of the Lord, “Every male that opens the womb shall be called holy to the Lord”) and to offer a sacrifice according to what is said in the law of the Lord, “a pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons.”

Now there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon, and this man was righteous and devout, looking for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him.

And it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he should not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ.

And inspired by the Spirit he came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him according to the custom of the law, he took him up in his arms and blessed God and said,

“Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation which thou hast prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to thy people Israel.”

And his father and his mother marveled at what was said about him;

and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, “Behold, this child is set for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is spoken against (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), that thoughts out of many hearts may be revealed.”

And there was a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phan’u-el, of the tribe of Asher; she was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years from her virginity,

and as a widow till she was eighty-four. She did not depart from the temple, worshiping with fasting and prayer night and day.

And coming up at that very hour she gave thanks to God, and spoke of him to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.

And when they had performed everything according to the law of the Lord, they returned into Galilee, to their own city, Nazareth.

And the child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.

Now his parents went to Jerusalem every year at the feast of the Passover.

And when he was twelve years old, they went up according to custom; and when the feast was ended, as they were returning, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem. His parents did not know it, but supposing him to be in the company they went a day’s journey, and they sought him among their kinsfolk and acquaintances;

and when they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem, seeking him.

After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions; and all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers.

And when they saw him they were astonished; and his mother said to him, “Son, why have you treated us so? Behold, your father and I have been looking for you anxiously.”

And he said to them, “How is it that you sought me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”

And they did not understand the saying which he spoke to them.

And he went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them; and his mother kept all these things in her heart.

And Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature, and in favor with God and man.” -John 2:1-52

What is poetry?

I’ve asked the question before, in a broader way when I asked the question, What is art? But now I’m narrowing the scope of my question.

What is poetry?

Poetry is an art. And like all art, it’s a form of communication. However, it seems to me that poetry is a little more intentional in its messaging than some forms of art. Still, poetry manages to maintain just enough aloofness to allow the reader to shape and personalize the message. And I think that’s what I like most about it. Two people can read the same poem and get something completely different from it. For years I wouldn’t tell people what any of my poems were about, because I wanted to hear what they thought—I didn’t want to taint their reading of it.

I’ve written some bad poetry and I’ve written some good poetry, but one thing is true of all of my poetry; I can relate to it. I get the message. This makes sense of course because I wrote it (I’m sure there are plenty of people who would not get it). But the best poets are able to “hit home” with someone other then themselves on a consistent basis.

Poetry also has to be interesting. The message has to be there, but the style and meter of the poem must be there as well. I don’t mean to suggest that there is a right way and a wrong way—only that different people have different preferences. Chesterton, for example, didn’t care for poems that didn’t rhyme. I personally prefer poems with rhythm—they don’t necessarily have to rhyme, but they should have a cadence to them. But of course, I like to experiment too. I’ve taken some poems which I just couldn’t get out properly and tried to reshape them using some concept (e.g., having every other line of the poem a poem unto itself).

I’m struggling with a way to conclude this post. Mainly because I started the post with a question, which I hope, the readers will answer, but also because it’s impossible to describe poetry too finitely. So I’ll conclude with this statement and a quick little poem.

Of all the arts, I think poetry is probably closest to painting. In a way, poets use words to paint pictures inside of people’s souls. But it’s probably more accurate to say poets provide the paint while the reader does all of the painting.

Splash me a thought
A way to relate

A notebook, a pen
Some chalk and a slate

Pour your soul out
Unfiltered and pure

I’ll read it today
The meaning a cure

So, what are your thoughts? What is poetry?

What political party would G.K. Chesterton belong to?

It looks like there was something wrong with the poll before. If you’ve already voted, it did not register. Please vote again. If you haven’t voted yet, please do.

I know there is no single right answer, but I’m curious what everyone thinks.

Cross Carried Calm

Cross carried calm
soldiers with strong arm,
whip and beat the man, unjustly tried.

Bruised, beaten, battered,
on faces, blood is splattered,
while Pharisees, behind the crowd, hide.

Mad men mock,
Jesus, dashed on rock,
is fixed upon the tree and lifted up.

Man’s mercy mountain,
is now a living fountain,
on your knees, drink deeply from this cup.

Stripped, slashed, slaughtered,
humanity now altered,
nothing now will ever be the same.

Heart, hands, head,
now hang dead,
but on my lips, alive, his holy name.

Dead, dropped down,
upon Mary’s gown,
more her sorrow than man has ever known.

Grief grows great,
with three days wait,
no greater love than this was ever shown.

-by Br. Francis, CFR

Nick Thomm could use your support

Here is a note from Steve Ray:

“A good friend of mine and the producer for Al Kresta’s Catholic radio show on Ave Maria Radio has brain cancer. He is working with my son-in-law Ben to start a young men’s group to help each other live godly Catholic lives and to be good husbands and fathers.

The long and short of it is that Nick is only 29. He has had brain surgery and chemo a while ago but his brain tumor has begun to dangerously grow again.

He had a seizure while driving his wife and 2 year old daughter over Thanksgiving and totaled the car. He will be undergoing more chemo and radiation shortly.

On top of the serious medical circumstances they now face financial burdens with co-pays and co-insurance. Nick has sacrificed a lot of worldly goods and prestige to work for Catholic radio and spread Christ’s gospel message. He has worked for Al Kresta and Ave Maria Radio for many years and as you might guess, Catholic radio is not the place to get rich.

Please consider giving something this holiday season to our friends who are now suffering with Christ in ways that few of us will experience. I just logged on to PayPal and donated some myself. He needs our help. Click here to learn more and to donate on PayPal: (http://thommbraintumor.blogspot.com/)”

Rick Warren is a good pastor

It looks like Obama’s decision to have Rick Warren at his inauguration is creating quite a stir—on both sides. Steven Waldman summarizes the two sided uproar pretty succinctly when he states,

“Obama supporters fear that the invitation offers legitimacy to Warren and his anti-gay-marriage views — but some conservatives wonder whether Warren’s presence provides some legitimacy to the Obama presidency.”

I must admit, the uproar has made me quite happy and yet quite sad.

I’m happy with Obama’s decision. It gives me hope that he’s got the Holy Spirit working on him (or within him). He’s not attacking or hiding from the “religious right”, he’s welcoming them. He’s asking a very socially conservative pastor to stand by his side. With news that Biden is feeling troubled by his abortion support and the news that Obama seeks advice from Rick Warren I am very hopeful. Though we did not vote for Obama, my family and I pray for his conversion every day.

However, I am not very happy with conservatives—the so called “religious right.” Rick Warren’s vocal opposition to abortion and gay marriage is no secret. If you need proof, just look at the reaction from the far left. Warren’s willingness to accept Obama’s invitation in no way legitimizes Obama’s pro-choice pro-gay marriage policies. In fact, it legitimizes Warren’s Christianity.

Jesus did not avoid good people who sinned, He embraced them. Pastor Rick Warren is setting a wonderful example for all Christians. We shouldn’t attack, hide from, or exclude people in our lives with whom we find fault. We should first remove the planks from our own eyes and then with love and compassion show them the truth. Some of us with words. Some of us with example. All of us with charity.

The country has elected one of the most charismatic and inspirational presidents in US history. I didn’t vote for him because I couldn’t in good conscious vote for someone with his policies. However, he is going to be our President come January 20th anyway. Should we attack him for four years armed with the Bible and lots of anger? Or should we pray for him and support the good he does and try to change his opinion on the things we disagree—armed with love?

I’m no biblical scholar, but it seems to me that Jesus only showed anger to hypocrites who outwardly represented his Father yet inwardly had dark hearts. He embraced those who outwardly went against his Father yet inwardly had good hearts. What good does it do anyone to attack Rick Warren? He is a pastor trying to help one of Jesus’ sheep. We should be supporting him and praying for him not attacking him.

What would Jesus do?

The poor economy has inspired me to throw out my microwave

The troubles facing our economy mean that at the very least we need to be frugal. For me, it’s a great motivator to think small. We do a pretty good job keeping our weekly grocery cost low, but with six people (one more on the way), it’s still one of our biggest expenses. So, I thought this might be the perfect time to start changing our menu.

One of my favorite subjects is gastronomy. I love learning about the various cuisines of different cultures, the history of how certain dishes evolved, and most importantly cooking those foods. And though I am not a world renowned foodie, it is my opinion that food culture can be broken down into two major categories: the cuisine of the rich and the food of the poor. However, most people in modern society are neither rich nor poor. So we end up eating some strange and artificial blend of poor quality and highly processed foods, which are neither delicious nor cheap.

The poor economy has inspired me to throw out my microwave (though I doubt I’ll go that far). Instead of stocking our fridge with Oscar Meyer Wieners and Velveeta cheese, I’m going to stock our freezer with soups and our pantry with canned preserves. It’s time we started eating like peasants.

What does it mean to eat like peasants? Well, I’m not entirely sure, but I do know it’s called peasant food because it’s the food old world poor people ate so it’s going to be cheap. I also know that Mario Batali serves peasant food every day at his restaurants and makes quite a bit of money doing it’s going to to be good—certainly better than Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.

I realize that I’m no Mario Batali and that my peasant dish repertoire is limited to few Italian dishes I learned from my family, but that’s half the fun for me. I enjoy learning about food culture and I love cooking. I also suppose my goal is a lofty one because good peasant food takes time to cook. My wife and I will have a constant temptation to buy the packaged stuff that can be tossed into a microwave for a mere two minutes; where as, good peasant food takes hundreds of minutes and plenty of elbow grease. But because the focus is on the people and their history instead of some giant factory, because its something I can do with my kids, because it helps me think small and local, because it reminds me of the bounty our Lord has provider for us, I think I will enjoy every laborious minute of it.