It Makes for an interesting Mass

I haven't seen too many Masses of the Dead in the EF form yet. But the delightful Fr. Freddy did one this AM, it was a feria with "nothing on" and it had been requested in memory of a parishioners relative. It's pretty cool to hear a "DIES IRAE" in real life, other than a University classroom.

I can't vividly remember going to one of these when I was little grades 1-2, other than I do have a vague memory of one. An All Soul's day Mass, perhaps? I'm sure there must have been the odd school Mass or two when we were present at someone's funeral if the Mass time coincided with the school Mass time (as it sometimes did.)

I think if a person has ever been to a funeral service for someone they didn't know, you can almost count on that person being Catholic. I can remember in the mid 60s, after the Mass went to mostly English, but with the old form largely retained, before the 69 missal, we went to quite a few funeral Masses. From middle of 3rd grade through 7th, I'd attended two different schools, and we'd normally all go at least once or twice a week to Mass as a matter of routine. Both churches were cavernous -- so the family of the deceased was usually no where near where we sat, even with the whole school going.....which was just as well, given the propensity for the younger kids to stiffle not tears over the casket scene before us, but generally over "Drama queen" soloists. I can well remember a classmate or two being taken to task for getting the giggles. No, it was never me. I'd already been too scared to even so much as turn around during Mass, because our primary school nuns grades 1-3 would have killed us. That sort of nun can help you develop Vicky Lawrence type immunity from breaking out a laugh. Or as George Carlin would say "if you were good, you could whip a face on Rodger, and HE'D get in trouble for laugning, but NOT you. 'Rodger, outside, there's nothing funny here.' IF you were GOOD, you could clear the whole room."

Many of my protestant friends, when Iwas growing up thought it must have been gloomy for us to have to attend these masses. Far from it!! These usually took longer, so we enjoyed the extra time out of the classroom!

[In grade school, 4-5 in Roanoke, Virginia, I had a friend, Teri Jo Myers, who was a genius at getting a nosebleed, which conveniently lasted from the gospel reading to just before the consecration. Guess who would get to go with her to make sure she was okay and didn't pass out? A few years back one of our servers was telling us that in grammar school they LOVED to serve Mass for Fr. Tom P. because "he always told us we didn't have to be in any rush to hurry back to class." I daresay as a boy in Ireland he had a clandestine few extra minutes of bliss away from the nuns with the priest's permission.

What goes around, comes around!

One of Life's Imponderables - Dogs vs. Tinsel

Why do they like to eat it? You'd think after the first 5 or 6 times they'd catch on that it makes them sick. Do they listen? NO. I've yet to know of a dog who didn't sample it. Or maybe the tinsel on our trees was particularly attractive? OR maybe it was just because we'd touched it and they KNEW the master/mistress's hand. Whatever. Took me forever to figure out why they grab the newspaper and run off with it.

Get it Right this Year

Okay, listen up: I'm only going to go over this with you once more. It's early. There's plenty of time to get the right elf crew on this. For the last time: A PONY. A brown and white pony. I don't need no stinkin' butt ugly dolls coming my way from a certain relative, who shall go nameless.

If you have to contract the work out, use a reliable supplier this year. In other words, don't use dad's mom, like you did last year.

A PONY. (ONE) Brown and White. Not White. Not Brown. Brown and White. And a cowgirl outfit to go along with that pony would be keen too. And make sure there's lots of fringe on the outfit. I gotta hot date lined up for New Year's Eve.

(That's right! Mrs. Claus must have helped out out big time!)

And please. No more black and white checked leggings. They are so "last year." Dior wouldn't be caught dead in them.

(Gee, Karen, tell us how you really feel!)

Too bad when you're older, you're expected to "make nice." Life was a lot simpler and less PC then.
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A Yankee is...

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To anyone outside the US a "Yankee" is someone from the U.S.
To anyone from the U.S. a "Yankee" is someone from a northeastern state.
To anyone from the northeast, a "Yankee" is someone from New England.
To anyone from New England, a "Yankee" is someone from Vermont.
To anyone from Vermont, a "Yankee" is someone who eats apple pie for breakfast.

This post is inspired by Fr. John Boyle's detailed post re: his visit to Vermont. Seems he's having a grand time up there seeing the USA in his Chevrolet... unwittingly following the dictum of a fairly famous ad campaign back in 50s and into the 60s, which you can see here. This clip is about 1:32 and features the lovely, talented, and gracious all-American gal, Dinah Shore.




Father Boyle casually writes the phrase "Ethan Allen, who I believed lived in the 1770s..." Perhaps he is just being tongue in cheek. Ethan Allen, along with his Green Mountain boys and Benedict "Phooey on him" Arnold captured many cannons at Ft. Ticonderoga in May of 1775. In ONE NIGHT in March of 1776 Washington's men put up 59 cannons plus prefabricated breastworks on the Dorchester Heights, south of Boston which overlooked the harbor, thereby breaking the siege and hastening Howe's amskray....giving us colonials our first major victory.

From the summer of '67 until the summer of '69 my family lived in neighboring New Hampshire. We also went up to Lake Champlain in '67, and it was one of the neatest family vacations ever. It was where I got my first chance to ride a horse:




And here I'm holding the "tail trophy" of the first fish I ever caught...the chef cooked up the fish and served it to me that same evening.

Note the "Go to hell" shorts, even then! The hat has Charlie Brown's Snoopy lying on top of it.








In the next picture Lake Champlain is right behind me. We stayed at Marble Head Island, by Colchester, Vt. - not far from Burlington. (I'm standing to the left of a family friend, and I wasn't quite 11 when this was taken.)

Note the spiffy swim caps we were required to wear.

While in Vermont, I saw my first "wholesome trottin' race" rather than the kind "where they sit down right on the horse" - thereby heading off making my parent's blood boil. I still have the race program somewhere around the house, but I'm not going to destroy the house looking for it. But here's a little music to go with the thought. (Serendipity does it again, how does Amazon know the exact 30 second clip I need?! Amazing!)

We later went across to Quebec that week, my first time outside the country, to see Expo '67. My first and only visit to Canada. Saw my first mountie too, no piccie though, 'cuz it was dark by the time we left and we didn't have flash! But I did bring home this nifty program. It's seen better days, but if any historians need to know each and every little detail about where every exhibit hall from every country was situated, I can tell them! Someone's thesis may be riding on it.


Amazingly it was sitting about 15 feet from where I'm blogging. And I almost NEVER can put my hands on anything this obscure that quickly.

I always feel a little sorry for people who "can't remember anything" about their childhood. All it takes is someone to say "Vermont" and all these memories instantly come to mind. Thanks for the triggering the trip down memory lane, Fr. John.