One at a Time

I once read somewhere that any man can satisfy a million women once, but only a real man can satisfy one woman a million ways for a lifetime. Which brings me to Lent.

A segue? What's a segue?

As I was saying, it's the time of year when good Catholic boys like myself use the Season of Lent to prepare ourselves for Easter by giving up something. Some opt to use Lent as a condensed Weight Watchers program by giving up cookies, chocolate, or some form of sugar or fat. Others choose a higher path and use Lent as a form of therapy by giving up a bad habit, one that has plagued them for many years and by sheer declaration that "I will give up ___________ for Lent" somehow ceases to be an issue. Examples include "I will not bite my finger nails", "I will not bite my sister", or "I will stop telling people to bite me".

With the best of intentions, these Lenten sacrifices will begin with great spirit. And like New Year's resolutions, most will fall flat in their promises by day three. "Oh well...I tried."

While I of course have my own ideas about what I might be giving up for Lent this year, I will choose to keep them to myself. First and foremost because, as any great motivational speaker will tell you, you should NOT write down your goals, lest you should be apt to look upon them daily and suffer the wrath and admonishment of family and friends who might seek to remind you of your failures and then encourage you back on the path of discipline and righteousness. (Yes I'm using more eloquent words here. I'm trying to sound lofty.) Like your feelings, it's important to keep your goals bottled up inside of you so that you can put on a proper face of hypocrisy, pretending to be on the path of success while wagging your finger at the rest of the world. That's what we are called to do in the service of the Lord.

No, I choose not to suffer the wrath of my family and friends or, even worse, my inner conscience. Bleeaahhhh!  Who wants to feel bad about themselves for making bad choices? But lest you should feel uninspired by my inspirational Lenten reflection, I will offer up a small compromise. Sure, anyone can attempt to sacrifice one habit or dessert for forty days and nights. After all, you only really have to last three or four days before receiving a pat on the back and a "Hey, you gave it your best shot, so let's order the double fudge ten-layer cake with chocolate ice cream to wash down our pizza, french fries and the other stuff we gave up for Lent."

To offer something useful, I give to you a list of forty days (and nights) of sacrifices that I will attempt. No, not all forty for forty days. I don't want to risk failure. Again, there's the whole "feeling bad about yourself" thing. I'll just take each one for a day. It may not be what you initially sought in this discussion of Lenten goals, but perhaps doing something similar will make you the envy of your friends.  More so, it will give you a basis to take pause and wag your finger at others for the good that you are doing in the world. Just be sure to speak of your accomplishments loudly. Humility is, after all, for the modest.

1.) I will actually put money in the collection plate at church instead of waving both hands over it as it goes by to make it look like I put money in there.
2.) I will not look with judgment at the people who show up late to church on Sunday. I will wait to talk about them in the car.
3.) I will not express road rage while behind the wheel. Instead I will take it out on the teenage cashier at the grocery store when she asks me, "So how are you today?" with her usual insincerity.
4.) I will not go into a raging fit when I am walking down the aisle of a grocery store and the lady in front of me stops all of a sudden because it never occurred to her until that very moment that maybe she does in fact need a box of the Wheat Thins that are on the buy-one-get-one-free list even though it's been on sale for the last five days, and after all SHE IS THE ONLY ONE SHOPPING RIGHT NOW AND NOBODY ELSE NEEDS TO GET AROUND HER SO THAT...Okay, moving on.
6.) I will not roll my eyes at my spouse when she firmly disagrees that the toilet paper should be placed with the roll releasing over instead of under. Instead I will wait until she leaves and change it, but I still won't roll my eyes while doing it.
7.) I will not take the last slice of pizza from the Papa John's box. I will offer it up to my wife, thereby giving her the chance to offer it to me. (Grace for her, grace for me.) Wanting to be gracious, I will of course accept.
7.) I will not drink coffee. I will drink only drink herbal tea and....HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.  Sorry, almost got that one out with a straight face.
9.) I will not get angry while watching "Wheel of Fortune" and yell things like "Great job, moron! Because everyone knows that when the puzzle board says "I LEFT MY HEART IN SAN FRAN_IS_O" the obvious thing to do is buy a vowel!" Next item!!!
10.) I mean seriously, you buy a vowel?!?! How do you dress yourself in the morning? You have over ten grand, two spaces left, one letter to call, and you buy a vowel?!?!
11.) I will not respond sarcastically with the question, "Really is that LITERALLY how bad it was?" when someone misuses the word "literally" as a way of expressing the enormity of a situation. ("I picked up this bag and it weighed literally a ton." Thank you, Hercules.)
12.) I will not ignore my wife and daughter while watching March Madness (except when the point deficit is less than 10 points and/or there are less than 10 minutes on the clock in either the first or second half of a game).
13.) I will not ignore my wife and daughter during the final round of the Masters (except when the final pair tees off at which point....Shhhh! No talking!)
14.) I will not eat any sugar unless it's in the form of fruit or some other "naturally-occurring" form. Okay, I'm already doing this on my diet. But for crying out loud if it will get my foot in the door of Heaven, then why not use it to my advantage? No, I can't actually eat pizza either. #7 was meant to make me look good in front of my wife. Stop nitpicking and just praise my efforts!
15.) I will not lose my patience when my daughter keeps saying "sixteen" instead of "fifteen" even though we just spent the last half-hour counting from one to eighteen and I'm pointing to the numbers on the page and I've said it twenty times already. It's right there on the paper! Look at the number! Are you looking at the paper? I said FIFteen, not SIXteen. Look at the paper, not at me! If you don't get this now, you can kiss Harvard good-b....Yes, dear, I know she's only three-and-a-half. You're missing the point. Who taught her to count like this?
19.) I will stop down-playing my efforts to eat healthier foods. Instead I will pat myself on the back with every bite (this also will help at the same time to dislodge the supplements that are the size of my fist) and then zealously tell everyone that they should be on this same diet because I've been on it for a month and really everyone loves nothing more than an overzealous dieter who thinks that everyone else should be on the same program they've been doing for less time than it takes to do a summer internship.
20.) Are you still reading this? Seriously? I figured by now you'd give up. I didn't really expect to list twenty more. If you've come this far, I guess I really owe you twenty more.
23.) I will stop checking Facebook every fifteen minutes because I have five piles of laundry to fold and I'll find any excuse not to touch it because once I do I will have to start cleaning the bathrooms, which are next on the list and my least favorite household duty.
25.) I will not do any yard work. I just hate it passionately. No other silver lining here. It's just evil work.
28.) When I come in from doing the yard work that I swore I wouldn't do, I promise not to mope around the house and mutter things like, "We're moving to a high-rise condo." (I reserve the right to resume doing this once Lent is over.)
32.) I will not cringe every time I hear a storm coming because I'm waiting for the roof to start leaking. I will worry more about the siding falling off because someone breathed on it the wrong way.
33.) I will not walk through the shopping mall and look with contempt upon the youth of today and think, "I weep for the future." In all fairness, some of them are undercover cops posing as teenagers and are just hoping to make a score. (Don't knock "21 Jump Street". It was a good show.)
34.) The next time I'm at the park with my daughter and an older kid is mean to her, I will not give the kid a dirty look or say anything mean. I will just slap the parents across the face and say, "Sorry...saw a mosquito. By the way, you're kid is a real pain in the..." As I was saying, I won't be mean.
35.) I will stop walking up to people randomly in stores and asking them, "Is the moon out yet?" and then upon dropping my drawers say, "How about now?" People just don't enjoy a good mooning anymore.
36.) I will stop using the cards and mailing labels that are sent to me by the FILL IN BLANK Missions. No, not because I haven't donated and I feel guilty. It's just that Ziggy labels aren't my style.
37.) I will not quietly insult those who disagree with my beliefs. I will simply pray that God will cure them of their ignorance. Should He be unable to do so, well then it's game on.
38.) Since it is Lent, I will eat a fish sandwich and french fries from McDonald's. Trust me...my wife and I watched "Super Size Me" last week. You have no idea how much of a sacrifice this is. Yes, they taste really good. The point is, I'm adding years to someone's life by taking one more of these meals out of circulation. And to the one whose life I save...maybe you...let me say, "You are welcome. And please pass me the Alka-Seltzer...and a cholesterol test."
39.) I will stop using the line, "Excuse me, I'm on my way to the gym" every day when I see a cute female. Mostly because my wife and daughter are no longer impressed when I say it. Also because our back bedroom hardly qualifies as a gym.
40.) I will not say anything sarcastic.

I can't speak for myself, but I'm pretty sure everyone (both people) reading this will be inspired to do more this Lenten Season. And if not, don't beat yourself up about it. That's what friends are for.

Little Consolation

As the saying goes, there are only two certainties in life--death and taxes. Though at this time of year it would be fitting to talk about taxes, I'll turn my attention to death. I know, death and dying are not comfortable topics for most people, especially when giving consideration to your own mortality or that of a loved one. But much like talking about love, money, and sexuality, discussions of death seem to get to the heart of how people view the world and their place in it. Uplifting? Maybe not. Enlightening? Absolutely.

Many questions are bound to come up when someone dies. With discussions ranging from "What were her final words?" to "Will they be serving sandwich platters at the reception?"no topic seems off limits. It seems the more tragic the death, the deeper the questions get. And perhaps the biggest one that is asked most often is quite simply "Why?"

Why did she die? 
Why did he have to leave us?
Why couldn't we have had her for a little while longer?
Why did he have to suffer?
Why would God take away someone so good?
Why not that guy instead?


I can't offer an answer to every question raised nor would I want to. Would any such answers provide  consolation to those asking the questions? Do any of us have the right answers to those questions? I think the questions themselves, and our earnestness in seeking answers, say a lot about the lens through which we see the world.

I see the world through my "Catholic lens", that this earthly life is a journey to an eternal salvation,  a path home to Heaven (assuming I've done my part to get there). I'm by no means a saint. And I have questions, doubts, and fears just like everyone else. Among them...it can be incredibly discouraging to look around the world and see many examples of the worst people getting the best of life while the best people seem to be getting the worst of it.

I'm human. Of course I've looked around and thought, "Why is this self-absorbed jerk living in that house, driving that car, and in good health while this guy over here...great husband, amazing father...he drives a beat up car to a shack of a house because he's barely able to work and is buried in medical bills from cancer treatments that drain the life out of him every week? Where's the (BLEEEEEP) justice in that?!?!"

Earlier tonight, I listened with great sympathy as my sister shared with me some of the questions being asked in light of the passing of a close friend. The friend was 40 years old. Died of cancer. Loving husband. Devoted father to seven children. Career in the Navy. Strong Catholic faith. He was the best man at my sister's wedding...best friend to my brother-in-law since childhood.

We don't ever want to see a loved one leave us. Many of us might try to seek consolation by seeing his or her passing as a "long life being laid to rest". Their time on earth is done--it's time for them to gain their eternal reward. But what about the life that seems to be cut short? What then? Where's our consolation? Or as another friend raised the question to my sister, "Why did he have to die instead of someone else who had lived longer, who lived less of a life, or who had fewer people to leave behind? Why not someone like me instead?"

Why not me?
Why him?
Why did he go?
Why am I still here?

Nobody really knows with certainty the answer to those questions. And again, your answer will depend on how you see the world. For my two cents, I think it comes down to one word.

Legacy.

Of course, for a wife who just lost her young husband, for seven young children who just lost their father...for anyone losing a loved one, there's little consolation in hearing any answers right now, maybe ever. Their consolation comes in whatever way they need it. For each one of them, it will be a little different.

Legacy.

We can't ever know the full impact our lives will have but for the legacy borne out by those who live after us. Our death finds its greatest meaning in the lives it leaves behind. Our lives going forward will bear the fruit of this man's legacy. The shape our lives take will provide some answer to the question of "Why him? Why now?" And so ask the question again, "Why not me?"

For them.

In whatever way those "left behind" are meant to carry out their journey, we are still here because we  also need to be here. The journey is not over for them yet. It's not over for me either. Our path to eternity is not yet complete. There's still much work to be done. And though we carry our load forward with heavy hearts for those who have gone before us, we continue on so that we might give greater purpose to their lives. And we continue on so that those affected most by the death of a loved one will not be alone. Their journeys are not over. They need us. We need them. We are their legacy. They are our legacy.

"O ME! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; 
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish; 
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more
    faithless?) 
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever
 renew’d; 
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined; 
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life? 
  
Answer.
That you are here—that life exists, and identity; 
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse."              (Walt Whitman)

You Have to Start Somewhere

Hello. Not sure who might read this, but it's always polite to start with a greeting. "Hello." Or "good morning" or "Hey, nice legs." (I get that last one ALL the time.)

A little while back, a friend of mine encouraged me to start a blog. She said that I have a "way" with words. And being one to jump on a new idea, I decided to start one. Five months later, I actually began writing it. That's how I've lived much of my life. I decide to do something. Months or years later I start doing it.

I've heard many times in my life that I am a "good" writer, a "really good" writer, a "great writer". When I first heard those words, I was still in elementary school. I heard it many times more through college and into my professional life. But hearing compliments about my writing skills was akin to hearing "Wow, you're great at studying." It was something I was expected to do, had to do, must do to be a great student. Don't misunderstand--I love to write. But any attempts at writing creatively or for myself were difficult, as I was always searching for the "assignment" within it. I wasn't letting myself write for, well, the sake of writing.

Write what? Why? How many words? Who's my audience? How many sources should I cite?

Whatever you want. You decide. Just write.

I always saw writing creatively as an artistic pursuit, another version of your high school drama club or a painting class. The idea of me as an artist....bleaaaahhh!!!! Then I'd have to start wearing mismatched outfits and shaggy hair. I'd have to experience artistic experiences like listening to obscure poetry readings or visiting art galleries for wine and cheese tastings. And ultimately I would move into a loft apartment in the city with curtains drawn over my one window through which daily I can look down upon the people outside and form my disdainful view of the world. What? Isn't that what artists do?

Somewhere along the way, I developed an incredible knack for denying that anything good exists within me. No matter how many kind words I might receive about something I did, I've always found a way to brush them aside and reassure myself that I could've done better, or most certainly somebody else could've done it better. And no matter how many good things have come into my life, somewhere inside was quiet reassurance that such gifts wouldn't last or were more deserved by someone else. So it was with writing.

The eternal pessimistic perfectionist within me...what I refer to as "my inner NO" always found a way to tell me "You're not good enough. Your writing is good, maybe, but that's nothing to live your life around. Pursue something else." And so I did. I pursued every other "else" but the one that gave me the most satisfaction, the greatest fulfillment...the one thing that provided a sense of purpose and made me feel complete. So in a Jerry Maguire sort of way, I stormed through the door of life, confronted my fears, and said to hell with it. I love to write. I don't care where it goes. I'm just going to do it.

No, I didn't make a big speech, shed tears, and utter the words, "You complete me". What sappy drivel. Who the hell would write that? Really, who would actually DO that? No, since there are so few of them out there, I decided to write a blog instead. Spill my guts. Make myself completely vulnerable. Set out with no plan. And just write. I'll decide later if it was worth doing.

What?

Yes, that's it. No...no sappy conclusion. No denouement. (Excuse me, I almost hurt myself on that last word.) No really, I'm just ending it here. I've said all I need to say. Well at least I wrote something! Okay fine!!

(Cue single teardrop rolling down my cheek.)

Writing, I love you. You complete me. And I just...

Shut up. Just shut up. You had me at "hello".


And fade.