SS. Peter and Paul; "Angel"=sympathetic jailer?

It struck me that the "angel" in the reading from Acts 12: 1-11 might well have been a sympathetic jailer. "Angel" means "messenger." Now perhaps this was an otherworldly creature, but it strikes me as more likely that the particular servant of God who rescued Peter from the jail in Jerusalem as a secret Christian, or perhaps a jailer who did not like the way the death of James went down. How practical. A jailer would have the keys to the locks, and would be able to guide Peter to safety. He "disappeared" because he had to get back to work!

A tip for those with Urchins

As a single person without children, I seldom give advice regards kids. I DID put in my years as a CCD teacher, and having been a kid myself, however, I have picked up a few tricks along the way. Sometimes the cute 'lil basserds are in restaurants. A lot of times the rug rats are cavorting about in fast food places. Now granted these are not-exactly-the-Ritz-is-it? establishments, but none the less, they are still public eating places, and it's fair enough to expect the adults in charge of them to keep them from acting like little hellions.

I don't know about you, but if if you've lived past age, oh, six, you know that places with plastic type booths are places you can feel every little vibration. So if the little darling behind you, is kicking HER table, YOU are going to feel it. Now, normally in this sort of a situation a parent doesn't need to wait for you to turn around and look at the child, and then the parent with a raised eye...because they're already yelling at the kid to "stop kicking the **** table."

But if mummy is doting on the child, not doing anything, you really want to kill the parent.

Here's the tip, if you really want to stop the behaviour, if little Janie or Bobby doesn't stop kicking whatever after earnest entreaties: take their damn shoes off. Then they can kick away, and with any luck break some toes. They'll be yelling, but they'll also be on the way to the emergency room and will soon be gone. This will also solve the child's "attention deficit disorder" at least as far as kicking things go. Even the stupid children will catch on.

Mikie beats it

...or slips the surly bonds of earth...which ever you prefer. With him goes the last living proof that Liberace and Sammy Davis, Jr. had an affair. R.I.P.

If you've ever attended the Funeral of someone you didn't know...

chances are good to excellent you're Catholic.

Some of us stayed around right after the normal Sat. 9.00 a.m. Mass at St. Anne's. Maybe it comes from going to Catholic school. In the schools I attended for grammar school we routinely attended the funeral Masses if one happened to be scheduled for the same time we would normally go to Mass. [We went to Mass once or twice a week, depending on the school I was in.]

Just me? Or was this routine for you too?

Cheap Giggle With Latin

Early this morning, as is my wont before attending a UA / TLM /Extraordinary / Whatever-you-want-to-call-it Mass, I checked the propers for the day. I'm having fun brushing up my Latin, so I try to read and follow along as much as I can in that language. When I flipped open the propers for the vigil of the Birth of John the Baptist (I was reading the little Latin only missal I have to see how much I could get on my own first without "cheating") my eye fell on the latin (and English!) word "vulva."

"Well, this should be fun today" I thought. The word was in the epistle which was from Jeremias 1: 1-10.

The St. Jerome's Latin version didn't mince words: "In diebus illis: Factum est verbum Domini ad me, dicens: Priusquam te formarem in utero, novi te: et antequam exires de vulva, sanctificavi te, et prophetam in gentibus dedite."

The English given for that same passage: "In those days the word of the Lord came to me, saying: Before I formed thee in the bowels[! not exactly accurate, is it?] of thy mother, I knew thee: and before thou camest forth out of the womb [true enough, but that's not EXACTLY what it said!] I sanctified thee, and made thee a prophet unto the nations."

I guess they didn't want Victorian [and later!] folks fainting had an "exact" translation been given! Hand missals frequently didn't have all the Latin. Who said it didn't pay to study the classics?

Happy Father's Day to our Priests

...most of whom are never called "dad."

I always pray my "Sunday Rosary" for priests everywhere. (The Saturday rosary is for seminarians.) I do hope others will join me.

Thank goodness it's "the year of the Priest" -- I thought "the year of Paul" would never be over!

Dear Old Dad, Happy Father's Day

Here's one for dear old dad. Didn't always appreciate him when I was younger, and he was far from perfect, but he had many good points. Basic respect for the working man, a hard worker, good provider, honest in business dealings, a fine patriot, and a sharp wit. Deceased since 2001, but remembered this day.

It's the classic "letterman Jacket" picture. Dad, skinny as he was then, played on the football team. Frackville, Pa., being a small town, even had some skinny guys like dad on the team. I asked him if he was a "tough guy" on the field. He said "I broke a kid's leg once." I asked "On purpose?" And he thought a bit and said "Well, let's just say 'accidentally on purpose.'" I laughed and mom just said "Oh, EDDDD." And then she had to laugh too.

This picture was taken in about 1948, give or take a year. Dad was about 16 here.

Especially for UKOK and anyone else who wants to hear my speaking voice

Here ya go. I thought I had a recording of me doing an Epistle somewhere, but it must have been these intentions. I always kept 'em "short and sweet" given The Sainted Father S's 23 minute sermons.



www.archive.org can be quite useful for sound file uploads.

(A while back Deb wanted to hear my voice, so here's the post. And to answer the unanswered questions: No, I've never smoked, except a couple stale Camel ciggies from a pack my father forgot about when I was 14 -- I might as well have eaten an ashtray, it cured me of any desire to look cool -- and yes, I would screw up the blended sound of any women's choir - my "break" note is middle "E" and I HATE my head voice, although I can do okay in the lower range. I can be heard above any pack of shrill female voices twittering for things in shops and get served first, so it has certain advantages.)

Close encounter with an Actual AlGore Loving Kool-Aide drinker

I'd done with a mile swim at the Kroc Center yesterday, and rewarded myself with some QT afterwards in the therapy pool. I was first one in, and was joined shortly thereafter by a "hippy aged" member.

AGLKAD: I just saw the most frightening bumper sticker I've ever seen!
Gem: What?
AGLKAD: It said: "Stop global whining! " Such ignorance!
Gem: [guffaw]
AGLKAD: I think it is people's behavior that's causing the high temps.
Gem: I love it! I wonder where I can get one?

At this point, the young blue eyed blond life guard, sitting within earshot, about peed herself choking back laughter. The conversation continued...

Gem: Coldest record June temps!
YBEBLG: You bet, it's been freezing out here.
AGLKAD: [silent, like Marcel Marceau]
Gem: Matter of fact, I celebrated Earth Day by renting a humvee and driving all over town, left the lights on, and told people they shouldn't be out shopping, but home, making more babies!
YBEBLG: [not being able to stiffle a laugh burst out laughing]
AGLKAD: [opens pie hole, then thinking better of it, shuts it.]

Fortunately, at that point another woman came on in, and the conversation quickly turned to books. NOT "Earth in the Lurch" or whatever the hell it was called.

Fr. Luis Jayme, Martyr

Not too many martyrs in California, but he was martyred at San Diego Mission de Alcala. This cross about marks the spot where he died. He was killed by Indians.

There is a sign regards his martyrdom which reads:

"Born Melchior Jayme on October 18, 1740 in the farming village of San Juan, Majorca, Spain. In 1760 he was received into the Franciscan Order and chose "Luis" as his religious name. Padre Jayme became pastor of the Mission San Diego in 1771 and was instrumental in moving the Mission inland from the Presidio to the present site in August of 1774. By December of that year, a number of adobe and thatch buildings were constructed. Crops were planted and many natives joined the Christian life and were baptized.

Progress was being made until the early hours of Novemeber 5, 1775 when hundreds of natives from surrounding rancheras set fire to Mission buildings, pillaged the church, and cruely murdered Fr. Jayme as he met them with his usual greeting 'Amar a Dios hijos - Love God, my children.'

Fr. Jayme became the first California martyr, because of his self-sacrifice, devotion, faith, and love. His remains are buried in the sanctuary of the church at Mission San Diego de Alcala."

Below is a picture of the Mission, the first in a chain of over 20 all up and down the California coast.

Surprised I hadn't posted about this earlier. I've lived so close to it for so long, I tend to take it for granted. I met a friend for Mass there last night, and thought it might be something my readers would enjoy.

BTW, Abe Lincoln, was a friend of the Missions. The Mexicans had confiscated them in the early 1800s, I believe, and they were allowed to go to ruin, and used as storehouses and all such things by the anticlerical Mexican government. Later on when this land, after it became part of the US, was given back to the church by Abraham Lincoln. [Abe gave back all the mission lands. I know up in San Juan Capistrano, there's a nice plaque mentioning his role.]

Cumque? Give us a break...

Fr. G. likes to have fun. Really. He takes full advantage of doing a votive Mass when there would otherwise be a plain old feria latin mass with "nothing doing." I was pleased yesterday morning when he'd chosen to do a memorial requiem Mass "just because." I knew something was up when I walked into church and saw the purple veil over the tabernacle. The sacristan was already in the pews, so I went over and asked "what's it going to be today" and he said "requiem memorial."

So I marked out "Mass for the dead" Basically the Mass said on Nov. 2nd for All Souls - with exception -- depending the "class of people" you're to remember. Well, we were okay, sorta. After Mass we compared notes and Fr. G. must have pulled some Gallician "only said twice EVER" Mass propers out for the Collect, Secret, and Post Communion. Everyone, including the sacristan thought "huh?" The collect started with "cumque" ["and with..."] -- none of us had that particular class of people in our Missals. Fr. G. "got us."

S'okay, score is one to one. The other week he didn't catch that he'd started to do the Mass he did on the Monday AGAIN on Tuesday. He caught himself after the first para. of the Gospel. He abruptly stopped. You could see the gears turn. "Hey, I THOUGHT I'd done this." So he flipped a few pages and started the right gospel. It pays to pay attention and follow the Latin...those who don't wouldn't have had the giggle. Didn't turn a hair, good man!

Mass today was easily the first Mass of that type I'd been to since Nov. 2, 1963!!! [Assuming mom and I went to Mass on that particular Saturday.] It was really neat to hear the Dies Irae said in the right context of the Mass. I've been enjoying the last few months, having been gradual exposed to every type of Mass. I'm collecting the whole set, bit by bit.

[On reflection I think there must be a "memorial Mass" somewhere for bank accounts - who knew?]

With "Friends" like us, who needs enemies?

Well, 0ero manages to show continued contempt for our ally, the UK. The UK, that country that is consistently "there" to help combat global terror? 0ero paid such loyalty and good will back by releasing radical Muslim Gitmo detainees to Bermuda, without consulting with the UK first. The UK, who by well known agreements, etc. is responsible for Bermudas security.

Does the head hacker sympathizer in the White House have to show continual contempt for the UK? Can the UK throw out our ambassador, because it seems to me, releasing terrorists into a country someone else has to protect seems like an act of war.

At the very least, since 0ero sent back the bust of Churchill, can the queen send back that i-pod the Obamination gave her with a message attached to tell him to shove it right up his backside? Maybe then he'll start to catch a clue. But I think the worst of it is, this evil closet Muslim, DOES know he is being contemptuous. And he doesn't give a damn.

Thanks again, all you losers who voted for him. We'll all be dead, the way this is going. But I hope you guys die before me so I can spit on your graves first. Assuming your grave isn't under the result of a nuclear weapon being expended.

[Hey, UK, if you declare war on us, for tacitly declaring war on you by this action, next time you torch the WH, can you make sure the present occupant is at home?]

Happy Flag Day

Midway Visit and Harbor Cruise

My cousin and her husband are still visiting so we took the opportunity to do a Harbor Cruise (like I did last year) and went on the Aircraft Carrier Midway.

Panoramic View from the USS Midway:





We lucked out, although they have a nice brochure and headset and guided tour, it doesn't have the immediacy of talking to someone actually serving on such a ship. But when we were down in the engine room, by chance also was a visiting enlisted man who is serving on another carrier who works in the engine room, who was touring his own family and friends around. He said on his detail there's 12 guys, and you work your way up by learning each position -- starting with the poor schlep who has to note all the reading on the gages and communicate them to the "powers that be" upstairs. The engine room is hotter than hades as it is under normal ops but in the Gulf it can get to well over 100 degrees down there.

Here's a picture of a little bit of the engine room.



This youngster here isn't all that much younger than the average crew member. The average serving crew member on a carrier is aged 19. Car insurance companies seldom rent cars to someone that young, but the US Government trains them and trusts them to do all manner of things on a carrier including being an integral part of launching and recovering fighters off the decks of carriers. The enlisted man says that on average it takes about 7 months or so for the average fellow in the engine room to be comfortable with being able to man any of the 12 positions down there on his crew.

About half the crew on a carrier "Runs the ship" and about half are involved with carrier ops. Those handling aircraft topside all wear color coded jersies. The one is "yellow" on the flight deck plays BOSS. Everyone on deck goes on his/her command. Those in red handle ordinance, etc. "KISS" -- "Keep it simple, stupid."

I did see one potential problem. It seems to me the berths in the brig are more commodious and less claustrophobic than the ones for the enlisted men! In "real life" they do have sheets! And the enlisted men's buncks have little curtains. The little "shelf" under each bunks is the small bit of room the crewman has to store his gear. There is a bit of locker space for such larger items like pea-coats, but it's hard to be a "pack rat" on a ship. BTW, the JUNIOR officers have only two bunks for each "rack" and a few extra inches of mattress! I didn't bother going up to "officer's country" but by comparision IIRC they live in the lap of luxury, with probably a chair and a little table! I expect the captain has a jacuzzi. :-D No wet bar though. Thanks, Josephus Daniels, you tee-totaling, racist, newspaper hack, friend of Woodrow "delusional" Wilson, and spoil sport extraordinaire! So no rum ration. Offically, anyway.

Enlisted men's sleeping quarters:



Brig:



There's a lot of different type of aircraft to see on board. Here is an "Avenger" the type George H.W. Bush flew towards the end of WWII.

Afterwards we were famished and ate at Anthony's -- generous portions at reasonable prices. We opted to eat outside, quicker and cheaper. We baby sat a really friendly fellow, Jake, while "mom" ordered and picked up. His "mom" informed us that Jake LOVED to find dropped French fries. He'd found one from me, and I was his bestest friend for that particular half minute.


Along the harbor are a number of statuary. Nothing too tripy, more whimsical, the kind I usually like. I like this squid:


On the other side of the Midway, the powers that be "went big."


History buffs will note the inspiration was from a famous Life Magazine photo. [The statue guy is a little less of a wolf than the real life guy. Given the "real life" guy had his hand on her butt! So he was cleaned up a bit for public consumption.)

Later on we did something really novel. We went out to Sunset Cliffs to watch...the sunset.