Fog

Adrift.

I am adrift.

I have my Andrea.

I have my Nicholas.

I have my dogs and cat.

My father needs me around.

I think my sister needs me around.

My responsibilities are sometimes crushing.

My job breaks my heart and my soul.

I have no clue about the future.

I feel so old and useless.

Nothing to offer.

Can’t retire.

Adrift.

Community

I recently saw a post about people feeling welcomed in this community (Loogootee, IN), and it started me thinking about how I feel, in my community.

I was a Loogootee resident from the moment of my birth.  My father has lived here his entire life, almost 96 years now. My grandfather lived here from 1920 until his death in 2000 at age 102.  I lived here until just before I turned 28, and I’ve again lived here from ages 44 to 57 (and counting). I am, by any measure, an established citizen of this community.

Growing up here, I belonged. I had a few close friends, I was involved in lots of school activities, and I was (and remain) a big fan of high school sports. That was enough.  I had little desire to be anywhere else, and what I knew of the world came from the evening news and the Washington Times Herald.

I grew up. I went to college, moved away, moved around, raised a family, and lived my life.  And then I moved back.

Long before I moved back, I realized that my worldview had changed - I had grown less conservative over the years, and had also grown more comfortable living with people who were “different” than me in some way - race, religion, gender expression, sexual orientation, country of origin, or whatever.  I didn’t always understand people and their differences, but I was fine with them.

What I failed to consider before moving back home was whether people in my hometown would be willing to live with ME, with my changed attitudes, and my clear support of all of those “different” people.  And that was my big mistake.

I found a town that looked much the same as it always had.  Perhaps it WAS the same, but I was different.

Fast forward a few years, and I feel ACTIVELY unwelcome by most of the loudest voices in the community.  There are businesses that refuse to serve me, by passive aggressively ghosting me when I request estimates or quotes.  There are people (some of whom work with the youth of our community) who pass along threats when I show my support for people who are “different”, while trying to maintain their own illusions of innocence. To paraphrase: “It’s not ME; I’m just passing along what I’ve heard people saying they plan to do”.  There are local elected officials who express on social media what they think of “liberals” like me - that we are traitors, with the occasional implied reminder that treason is a capital offense.

So do I feel “welcomed” in my community? No. I don’t even feel SAFE in my community, in 2024.

I certainly hope this place has changed for the worse. If not, I’ve been lying to myself about the nice town I grew up in.  Or maybe all that’s changed is that people feel comfortable sharing opinions that people used to know enough to keep halfway quiet - the racism, xenophobia, sexism, and the like.  I mean I remember hearing casual remarks when I was a kid that would be considered SHOCKINGLY racist today.  But people at least said those things quietly, among friends, because some part of them knew they were shameful thoughts.

It’s definitely not COVID.  The biggest change I saw was that around 2016 people became willing to openly, proudly share their “worst selves”. It gets worse every year.

And the 2023 local “takeover” has this community on the path toward being a Far-Right Paradise, if it isn’t already.

If we start to feel seriously unsafe, we may eventually do the unthinkable - sell our house and move away forever.  Whatever. We all end up dead anyway, in the end.

What Gives You Hope?

As the years pass, this becomes a more interesting question, more difficult to answer cleanly, and requiring more subtle shades of meaning.

In some ways, nothing gives me hope.  I’m all too aware of my mortality, and the fact that I’m now closer to 80 than to 30.  The part of me that dwells on this knows that nothing can give me hope for the future, because the future is meaningless, as is the present. I will not only cease to exist, I’ll also be utterly forgotten, just like you will, dear reader.

But that kind of thinking isn’t useful.  It leads to the conclusion that we might as well all kill ourselves and be done with it.

Again - not useful.

Even with the constant undercurrent of melancholy, hope and joy are possible.  My life is filled with moments and blessings worth embracing.  My son, my wife, my father, my sister, my brother, a few friends, some warm pets - these fellow mortals face the same oblivion as I do, and yet they make my life good.

I like the experiences I get to have, the people whose paths I get to cross, and the thoughts I get to think.

I guess I’m not sure what hope IS, but my life is full of “holy moments”, and I’d gladly be 56 for another thousand years or so.

I’m a few minutes closer to my death than I was when I started writing this, but I enjoyed those minutes.  Good enough.

Receiving Guests

People undoubtedly have looked on me as pretty gullible over the years, welcoming seemingly random people into my life and my home (and indeed, it has perhaps been more out of gullibility than out of noble Christian principles).  Yet, I feel I fall GREATLY short of what a true Christian should do. 

Here's what St. Benedict of Nursia had to say in the Sixth Century in the Rule of Benedict, the document which to this day governs how Benedictine and Cistercian monasteries operate.  Much of it could be applied to non-monastics, as well.  I'm not sure how I would feel about making guests pray with me, or washing their feet, but the principle is simple - treat them well, as if they were your brothers or sisters. (Because they are.)

Chapter 53: On the Reception of Guests

Let all guests who arrive be received like Christ, for He is going to say, "I came as a guest, and you received Me" (Matt. 25:35). And to all let due honor be shown, especially to the domestics of the faith and to pilgrims.

As soon as a guest is announced, therefore, let the Superior or the brethren meet him with all charitable service. And first of all let them pray together, and then exchange the kiss of peace. For the kiss of peace should not be offered until after the prayers have been said, on account of the devil's deceptions.

In the salutation of all guests, whether arriving or departing, let all humility be shown. Let the head be bowed or the whole body prostrated on the ground in adoration of Christ, who indeed is received in their persons.

After the guests have been received and taken to prayer, let the Superior or someone appointed by him sit with them. Let the divine law be read before the guest for his edification, and then let all kindness be shown him. The Superior shall break his fast for the sake of a guest, unless it happens to be a principal fast day which may not be violated. The brethren, however, shall observe the customary fasts. Let the Abbot give the guests water for their hands; and let both Abbot and community wash the feet of all guests. After the washing of the feet let them say this verse: "We have received Your mercy, O God, in the midst of Your temple" (Ps.47:10).

In the reception of the poor and of pilgrims the greatest care and solicitude should be shown, because it is especially in them that Christ is received; for as far as the rich are concerned, the very fear which they inspire wins respect for them.

Liturgy of the Hours (My Thoughts on the Divine Office)

My thoughts on the Liturgy of the Hours as prayed by the Catholic Church (also known as the Divine Office, and abbreviated here as LotH)...  Keep in mind that I am NOT a theologian...

At a certain level, the LotH is kinda cheesy.  First of all, its structure can seem overly complex.  If you don't have an app to guide you, it involves a large amount of flipping back and forth in one 2000-page volume of a four-volume set (different volumes for different parts of the year - the LotH is slightly different every single day).  That's why I donated my books, and use an app on my iPad/iPhone.  I let someone else do the hard part.

Second, you may notice that a bunch of it is fairly ridiculous text (from a 2019 perspective), which happens to be from the Book of Psalms.  In fact, the heart of the LotH is built all around the psalms. If you say all of the little offices that make up the LotH (Invitatory, Morning Prayer, Office of Readings, Midmorning Prayer, Midday Prayer, Midafternoon Prayer, Evening Prayer, and Night Prayer), over a four-week period you will have said essentially all 150 of the psalms.  The question I frequently had in my early days with the LotH was "Why would they choose the Psalms, some of which are bizarre, and not something more clearly relevant?"  Then one day I heard someone make a comment that led me to really appreciate having the psalms at the heart of it.

The person said "The psalms are the song/prayer of the Church".  That statement didn't do much of anything for me.  Then they explained a little further.  My version of this explanation goes like this: The Church, in its infancy, was made up primarily of a bunch of young Jews.   The Psalms date from hundreds of years before Jesus, and would have been well-known to earnest, pious Jews.  Thus these were some of the texts/prayers/songs that were closest to the heart of the early followers of Jesus.  And indeed, Jesus himself was a "good Jew".  Jesus himself would have been familiar with the Psalms!  The New Testament (as a text) wasn't a part of Jesus' daily life, because it hadn't been written yet.  But the Psalms had been.

Once I had processed all of that, I immediately had a greater appreciation for having the Psalms at the heart of the Liturgy of the Hours.  When I sing it, say it, read it, or just listen in my car, I feel I am joining my voice to that of a young James, Peter, Andrew... and even a young Jesus, with his parents Mary and Joseph.  The Church (as people) came to see Jesus Christ as the fulfillment of what was written in the Psalms. Thus in a sense the Psalms really WERE the "prayer of the Church", from its very earliest days.

The parts of the LotH that are not Psalms, those parts are easier for me to appreciate.  General prayers, short readings from the Bible, readings from the sermons/letters of various bishops, saints, etc., twice a day the Our Father, and generally one hymn per "little office".  Giving my day little infusions of these things throughout the day undoubtedly will make me a better person, eventually.

If you are reading this, and are curious to know more, let me know - I'd be happy to chat more about my own experiences.  I only rarely say ALL of the little "offices" that make up a given day's LotH, but I do my best.  I've found that my morning commute is more than enough time for Invitatory and Office of Readings, and if there is a large line at the gate, my commute is sometimes enough for Morning Prayer as well.  I do all of these by playing an audio app (the app includes written text as well, but I obviously can't do anything but listen to the audio, while driving).  Similarly, I'll do Evening Prayer on my commute home.  I always intend to do Night Prayer while lying in bed, but usually forget.  As for the three "daytime" offices, sometimes I get to listen to those at lunch.  Sometimes not.  But I keep trying, each day.

Dating After Divorce - Fiftysomething Edition

Ah, dating, after divorce, in one's fifties...

I've spent a lot of time reflecting on what I'm looking for in a partner, and reflecting on why I would even want a partner.

The "why" is relatively easy.  I get desperately lonely.  Perhaps now that I'm divorced and my son is mostly grown, things are catching up with me - a lifetime of not having close friends, not being comfortable meeting people, choosing to sit alone in public (but then overjoyed on those rare occasions when someone sits beside me).  That stuff adds up to eventual loneliness.  Understanding this, well, it doesn't make it any easier for me to break through any of those things.

The "what" I'm looking for in a person, that's difficult.  And I don't see it happening, if I do figure it out, so I sometimes wonder the point of figuring it out.  I suppose at my core, I remain an optimistic romantic, which makes it all worth figuring out.

I'm on a small number of dating sites, and it's amusing to see all the women's profiles in which they describe what they like to do with their time, and post pictures to prove it.  Almost invariably, there's a pic of them hiking, a pic of them fishing, a pic of them wearing a sports jersey (usually the Indianapolis Colts, in my area).  Maybe a picture of them hunting, standing by a large pickup truck, or straddling a Harley.  Clearly all the stuff they think their future big strong man is gonna want them to like.  Do they like these things?  Maybe, but in some of those pics it's clearly the first time they've ever held a fishing pole.  Am I the man they are looking for?  Not if those things are true interests (except for hiking, and watching the Colts, both of which I'm totally down for).  It's a weird and fake world.

I remember that feeling of seeing someone and being instantly overwhelmed by something about her.  Usually her smile, or eyes.  Of course I'm mature enough to realize that that path really doesn't go anywhere, if there's no substance behind the eyes - "yes, you have pretty eyes, but it turns out you are an awful person".

Before I married, a billion years ago, I'd never really had a serious relationship.  A small number of things that may or may not have counted as "dates".  Certainly not a serious girlfriend.  Since my divorce, three dates, no relationships.  While married, obviously no girlfriends. although there were a few women over the years I adored from a small distance.  Generally they were lesbians, so I somehow didn't feel too bad about liking them.  My three dates since divorce were with lovely people, no doubt, but for me they were 1) awkward, 2) awkward, and 3) awkward.  I'd blame it on the women, but the common factor in all three dates was "me", so...

I'd like to find...

- Someone to hold my hand - on the sofa, in the car, walking down the sidewalk. God that's so basic, yet it brings tears to my eyes.
- Someone who's really smart, but not an asshole about it.
- Someone who's shorter than me (because I'm shallow about that, and am a hobbit).
- Someone who is into big band music enough to support the fact that I lose about two Sundays a month to jazz band gigs in Evansville.
- Someone who can teach me stuff.  Like knitting, or cooking, or small engine repair, or philosophy.
- Someone who loves to listen to all sorts of music, but not Country.
- Someone who's a leftist, not a Democrat, and knows the difference.
- Someone who is complete, and doesn't need me to make her a whole person.
- Someone who isn't afraid to cry.
- Someone who likes people (in general - some people truly are deplorable).
- Someone who also likes low-key (non touristy) travel outside the USA.
- Someone who understands what I mean when I say I don't understand the social dance around dating/relationships in the "dating scene".  As a result, someone who is assertive, and not offended by the fact that I'm not.  Don't mistake lack of assertiveness for a lack of 😈 or a lack of 😍.
- Someone who's into 51 year old men who aren't pickup-truck-driving hunter-types: I'm fairly short, well educated, Socialist/Catholic, moved to tears easily by the oddest of things, think deeply and feel passionately, and really DO like to sit in coffee shops and talk or read (I have witnesses).

I watched a video lecture recently in which the guy offered his thoughts about relationships that kind of balance a little romanticism with a healthy dose of practicality.  He described things that sounded very good, and very rewarding.  However, it also leaves me as lost as ever, as far as actually finding a partner who is interested in me and worth my interest as well.  I believe I HAVE mastered his related point about accepting that I'm fundamentally crazy. :)

I don't know, this is just a bunch of impotent rambling and self-pity, perhaps, as usual.

The Apostolate of the Laity

From the Second Vatican Council's Decree on the Apostolate of Lay People: "Wherever men are to be found who are in want of food and drink, of clothing, housing, medicine, work, education, the means necessary for leading a truly human life, wherever there are men racked by misfortune or illness, men suffering exile or imprisonment, Christian charity should go in search of them and find them out, comfort them with devoted care and give them the helps that will relieve their needs. This obligation binds first and foremost the more affluent individuals and nations."

This is what I believe. I've rarely seen it presented so concisely and thoroughly. This paragraph leads DIRECTLY to my beliefs on universal healthcare, education of my fellow man (including education of those in prison), the treatment of veterans and refugees, and the taxes to be paid by the wealthy.