I haven't been writing here much lately. Part of it is that I'm trying not to get to riled up about all the nonsense out of Washington. But part of it is that I'm just loving the cool weather.
We've slept with windows open two nights now and will tonight at well, here at the end of July. The last few days have felt like early spring or mid-fall, not deep summer.
The dog has even been willing to be outside on the deck with me for more than a few moments.
Yesterday, I was on the bed reading a book Sherlock Holmes' Daughter (I recommend it if you like things Sherlockian) and had to get a blanket to keep from being chilly. How often does that happen in July?
Another thing I recommend, go to Youtube and search for The Marconi Group and their song/music called "Weightless". I can tell you if you listen to the 8 minute or 10 minute version (there is a 10 hour version I've never tried) it will lower your blood pressure and slow your heart rate and make you feel like you just had a wonderful nap. Really. It was written in consultation with music therapists and designed to s l o w y o u d o w n .
I listen to it at least once a week and watch the video which is rather hypnotic.
Here in Trump-world we need all the good books and mood altering music we can find.
At least I do....
Thursday, July 27, 2017
Monday, July 24, 2017
Sometimes I just sits...
I used to have a poster on the wall of my office at St. Paul's in New Haven with a drawing of a rocking chair and the words: "Sometimes I sits and thinks. And sometimes I just sits...."
That's where I am tonight, just sitting, not much to say.
I could tell you about Eleanor and Tim and Mimi's visit--but I'd just bore you with proud grandfather and even prouder father and father-in-law stuff.
I could whine and complain about He who cannot be named and all the nonsense in Washington that is making the US irrelevant in many international ways and challenging the very meaning of the Constitution. But I do that enough and there's always--unfortunately--times to do that.
I could tell you about some of the amazing books I've read this week--but go to your local library and find them yourselves.
I could pontificate on how the institutional Church doesn't trust lay people enough and is entirely too 'clerical' but most of you wouldn't necessarily want to know about all that and how 'un-clerical' I've become in my retirement.....
I could write about our beloved dog, Bela, who is 12 and has, we think, doggie dementia. But I recall something about that in an earlier post and I really want to mourn for him in private right now.
The rain and the wondrous cool today after days on end of heat and humidity--I could parse that into a post. But, if you're in Connecticut you know about it and if you're somewhere where it's not 55 degrees on July 24 I don't want to make you feel bad.
Sometimes I sits and thinks and writes a post....
Tonight is one of the sometimes I just sits.....
That's where I am tonight, just sitting, not much to say.
I could tell you about Eleanor and Tim and Mimi's visit--but I'd just bore you with proud grandfather and even prouder father and father-in-law stuff.
I could whine and complain about He who cannot be named and all the nonsense in Washington that is making the US irrelevant in many international ways and challenging the very meaning of the Constitution. But I do that enough and there's always--unfortunately--times to do that.
I could tell you about some of the amazing books I've read this week--but go to your local library and find them yourselves.
I could pontificate on how the institutional Church doesn't trust lay people enough and is entirely too 'clerical' but most of you wouldn't necessarily want to know about all that and how 'un-clerical' I've become in my retirement.....
I could write about our beloved dog, Bela, who is 12 and has, we think, doggie dementia. But I recall something about that in an earlier post and I really want to mourn for him in private right now.
The rain and the wondrous cool today after days on end of heat and humidity--I could parse that into a post. But, if you're in Connecticut you know about it and if you're somewhere where it's not 55 degrees on July 24 I don't want to make you feel bad.
Sometimes I sits and thinks and writes a post....
Tonight is one of the sometimes I just sits.....
Friday, July 21, 2017
ok, people looked at this
Half a dozen folks viewed this post today for reasons I don't know. But I remember it vividly and will share it again.
I officiated at a funeral today. That's not a new experience for me. In
my 21 years at St. John's in Waterbury, I averaged a tad over 40
funerals a year. All told, I'm closing in on 1000 funerals. Not the kind
of achievement you set out to accomplish....Yet, I am honored and
humbled each time I'm involved in a funeral, no matter the
circumstances. I've told the 30+ seminarians I've supervised and
mentored that the most important things they'll ever do as priests is
funerals.
I mean that. And I am privileged to have been a part of so many--for one thing, I'll never say dumb shit like "he's in a better place" or "God wanted her home....". I'm reliable for not saying dumb shit because I have no words at all to say in the face of death. I just sit with the survivors, help them plan the service and hold them if they want to be held.
Ben's mother called me yesterday--we've talked a lot since Saturday when Ben died in a horrendous accident while working on the family's property in New Hampshire--and she said "I feel out of control!" I told her--which is the limit of my conversation with people who have lost someone they love like a rock, "you are out of control. You are ultimately out of control." I wondered if I had tread too near the edge, but she sighed and said, "I am out of control. I have to give up being in control."
Oh, yes, beloved, when people die there is no 'control' to be in control of. When people die, a dear friend of mine wrote over 40 years ago (where does the time go?) when a friend of hers died in Viet Nam, "it's like a bird flying into a window on a chill morning....."
Fix that, if you can.
You can't, give it up, no control/no control/no control....
In that approaching 1000 funerals, I've never be a part of one quite like Ben's.
He was only 19 when he died. Wednesday, the day before his funeral, he would have been 20. Imagine what that day was like for his parents---no, don't, you CAN'T imagine it and you shouldn't try. You just shouldn't. You and I cannot for a moment imagine what that was like unless you too have lost a child to death. And if you have done that, don't try to imagine because it would be too painful....
Anyway, I was going to the funeral home Wednesday night to pray the prayers for a Vigil with the family. I was to be there at 4:45 but a wreck in Middletown got me redirected and I didn't get there until 5:05. When I arrived there were several hundred people in line to speak to the family. I was carrying a Book of Common Prayer, which serves as my calling card since I haven't worn a clerical collar for decade or more, so people let me cut line. I told the family it was nonsense to try to do the prayers and told them we'd meet in the morning.
The service was at Holy Trinity in Middletown, thanks to their generosity, because St. James in Higganum wouldn't have held the crowd. St. James can seat 80 or so, packed in, and nearly 400 people showed up for the funeral.
At huge funerals like this, often only a few people receiver communion. But I ran through over 350 wafers as a disc of Ben's favorite music played. That and the fact that most everyone at the rail had wet eyes if not tears running down their faces, I realized this funeral was in the top 5% of all the funerals I have done for authentic grief.
Ben's aunt, who is a pediatrician, talked about how special he was and handed out stickers that said, "WWBFD?"--what would Ben Foisie do?
I never met him, but I do think, after all I heard and was told about him, that was a reasonable question. One to ponder. He was so authentic, sweet, accepting, loving, honest--'special', indeed--that trying to live as he would have lived had he been able to--might be a superlative way to live.
Altogether, a remarkable burial office. Altogether something that made me better, stronger, kinder, more open.
Just the gift that death should give. If we are only open to the giving....
Friday, November 16, 2012
His name was Ben
I mean that. And I am privileged to have been a part of so many--for one thing, I'll never say dumb shit like "he's in a better place" or "God wanted her home....". I'm reliable for not saying dumb shit because I have no words at all to say in the face of death. I just sit with the survivors, help them plan the service and hold them if they want to be held.
Ben's mother called me yesterday--we've talked a lot since Saturday when Ben died in a horrendous accident while working on the family's property in New Hampshire--and she said "I feel out of control!" I told her--which is the limit of my conversation with people who have lost someone they love like a rock, "you are out of control. You are ultimately out of control." I wondered if I had tread too near the edge, but she sighed and said, "I am out of control. I have to give up being in control."
Oh, yes, beloved, when people die there is no 'control' to be in control of. When people die, a dear friend of mine wrote over 40 years ago (where does the time go?) when a friend of hers died in Viet Nam, "it's like a bird flying into a window on a chill morning....."
Fix that, if you can.
You can't, give it up, no control/no control/no control....
In that approaching 1000 funerals, I've never be a part of one quite like Ben's.
He was only 19 when he died. Wednesday, the day before his funeral, he would have been 20. Imagine what that day was like for his parents---no, don't, you CAN'T imagine it and you shouldn't try. You just shouldn't. You and I cannot for a moment imagine what that was like unless you too have lost a child to death. And if you have done that, don't try to imagine because it would be too painful....
Anyway, I was going to the funeral home Wednesday night to pray the prayers for a Vigil with the family. I was to be there at 4:45 but a wreck in Middletown got me redirected and I didn't get there until 5:05. When I arrived there were several hundred people in line to speak to the family. I was carrying a Book of Common Prayer, which serves as my calling card since I haven't worn a clerical collar for decade or more, so people let me cut line. I told the family it was nonsense to try to do the prayers and told them we'd meet in the morning.
The service was at Holy Trinity in Middletown, thanks to their generosity, because St. James in Higganum wouldn't have held the crowd. St. James can seat 80 or so, packed in, and nearly 400 people showed up for the funeral.
At huge funerals like this, often only a few people receiver communion. But I ran through over 350 wafers as a disc of Ben's favorite music played. That and the fact that most everyone at the rail had wet eyes if not tears running down their faces, I realized this funeral was in the top 5% of all the funerals I have done for authentic grief.
Ben's aunt, who is a pediatrician, talked about how special he was and handed out stickers that said, "WWBFD?"--what would Ben Foisie do?
I never met him, but I do think, after all I heard and was told about him, that was a reasonable question. One to ponder. He was so authentic, sweet, accepting, loving, honest--'special', indeed--that trying to live as he would have lived had he been able to--might be a superlative way to live.
Altogether, a remarkable burial office. Altogether something that made me better, stronger, kinder, more open.
Just the gift that death should give. If we are only open to the giving....
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
family
Growing up, I had lots of family. I had 14 Jones first cousins and 4 Bradley first cousins, plus 12 aunts and uncles and Mammaw Jones.
Having moved around like I have, I lost contact with most of my cousins---all of whom were older than me. And, as time will do, all my aunts and uncles died off, Aunt Elsie Ours, my mother's youngest sister just last year at 92 was the last to die.
I'm an only child and Bern had a brother and sister who never married or had children. So, Josh and Mimi have no first cousins. Bern's sister died and her brother, Fr. Dan, is coming to visit on Friday.
Dan was a P.hd. psychologist who taught at Temple University and when his parents died decided he should be a Roman Catholic priest. He has a church in Wellsburg, WV, which is in that northern panhandle of the state that pokes up into Pennsylvania. He is closer to Pittsburgh than to any of the few major cities of WV.
He's never met granddaughter #4, Ellie McCartney. So Tim and Mimi and Ellie are coming up on Saturday to meet Uncle Danny.
Our tribe is small. Two children, 4 granddaughters, uncle Danny and Bern and me.
It will be good to be 'family' for a day or two.
Having moved around like I have, I lost contact with most of my cousins---all of whom were older than me. And, as time will do, all my aunts and uncles died off, Aunt Elsie Ours, my mother's youngest sister just last year at 92 was the last to die.
I'm an only child and Bern had a brother and sister who never married or had children. So, Josh and Mimi have no first cousins. Bern's sister died and her brother, Fr. Dan, is coming to visit on Friday.
Dan was a P.hd. psychologist who taught at Temple University and when his parents died decided he should be a Roman Catholic priest. He has a church in Wellsburg, WV, which is in that northern panhandle of the state that pokes up into Pennsylvania. He is closer to Pittsburgh than to any of the few major cities of WV.
He's never met granddaughter #4, Ellie McCartney. So Tim and Mimi and Ellie are coming up on Saturday to meet Uncle Danny.
Our tribe is small. Two children, 4 granddaughters, uncle Danny and Bern and me.
It will be good to be 'family' for a day or two.
Tuesday, July 18, 2017
Partner! Lordy, Lordy!
My son, Josh, today was made a partner in his law firm of Rosenberg, Martin and Greenberg, one of the largest and most prestigious firms in Baltimore. He went to Brooklyn School of Law, where he met his wife, Cathy Chen, who is a prosecutor for the City of Baltimore.
He does tax and bankruptcy law--his unit kept R,M,G above water during the recession.
I am sure he is super good at what he does. And now that is proven.
I just looked at the web page for R/M/G and saw that they have a lot of women lawyers and several lawyers of color. I've never looked before. Glad I did. Makes my feel even better about my son, The Partner.
Josh is 41 years old, 42 soon, in August. I've never really worried about him. He is frighteningly smart--always has been--and though a little loudly extroverted, a gentle and caring man.
His three daughters--Morgan and Emma (11) and Tegan (8) are brilliant and wonderful. Emma is more outgoing than her two sisters but all are remarkably friendly and kind.
Cathy Chen is beautiful and smart as well.
God, I love my kids and all that came from them, babies that they were once upon a time.
Law partner at 41--not shabby....not shabby at all.
He does tax and bankruptcy law--his unit kept R,M,G above water during the recession.
I am sure he is super good at what he does. And now that is proven.
I just looked at the web page for R/M/G and saw that they have a lot of women lawyers and several lawyers of color. I've never looked before. Glad I did. Makes my feel even better about my son, The Partner.
Josh is 41 years old, 42 soon, in August. I've never really worried about him. He is frighteningly smart--always has been--and though a little loudly extroverted, a gentle and caring man.
His three daughters--Morgan and Emma (11) and Tegan (8) are brilliant and wonderful. Emma is more outgoing than her two sisters but all are remarkably friendly and kind.
Cathy Chen is beautiful and smart as well.
God, I love my kids and all that came from them, babies that they were once upon a time.
Law partner at 41--not shabby....not shabby at all.
Sunday, July 16, 2017
Showing some restraint....
It's been over 2 weeks since I've mentioned He Who Should Not Be Named (our President,by his other title) in a post.
That shows, given the 24 hour cycle of craziness out of 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., more restraint than I'm usually up to showing.
I'm, not even going to 'go off' on He Who Should Not Be Named, Jr. He doesn't need anyone to air his dirty laundry...he can handle that himself quite nicely.
Neither will I discuss Darth Vader (Steve Bannon in drag) or Pee Wee Herman (Jerad Kushner's look-alike). I leave that to those less dignified and restrained than I.
Nor will I demean either Kelly Ann (who should be demeaned just on principle!) nor Sarah Huckabee whatever though there isn't a bus that should be tarnished by her being thrown under it.
No, all I want to do is tell you about a poll I read today.
It's an NBC/Wall Street Journal poll just out that covers 439 counties in 16 states that either switched from Obama in 2012 to Trump in 2016 OR Trump won more handily than did Mitt Romney. Most of those counties went for Trump by 15-20 points in the election. Now his approval rating is only 50% in those counties that voted for him by 65-35 in most cases.
The very people who elected him are the very ones who, to this point, everything he does (especially around the environment, the rich and health care) has mitigated against.
Amazing, isn't it, how folks can (just like scripture tells us) 'believe a lie and be damned....'
Alas and alack, 'forgotten Americans', he's forgotten you again already....
That shows, given the 24 hour cycle of craziness out of 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., more restraint than I'm usually up to showing.
I'm, not even going to 'go off' on He Who Should Not Be Named, Jr. He doesn't need anyone to air his dirty laundry...he can handle that himself quite nicely.
Neither will I discuss Darth Vader (Steve Bannon in drag) or Pee Wee Herman (Jerad Kushner's look-alike). I leave that to those less dignified and restrained than I.
Nor will I demean either Kelly Ann (who should be demeaned just on principle!) nor Sarah Huckabee whatever though there isn't a bus that should be tarnished by her being thrown under it.
No, all I want to do is tell you about a poll I read today.
It's an NBC/Wall Street Journal poll just out that covers 439 counties in 16 states that either switched from Obama in 2012 to Trump in 2016 OR Trump won more handily than did Mitt Romney. Most of those counties went for Trump by 15-20 points in the election. Now his approval rating is only 50% in those counties that voted for him by 65-35 in most cases.
The very people who elected him are the very ones who, to this point, everything he does (especially around the environment, the rich and health care) has mitigated against.
Amazing, isn't it, how folks can (just like scripture tells us) 'believe a lie and be damned....'
Alas and alack, 'forgotten Americans', he's forgotten you again already....
Wednesday, July 12, 2017
I always check
I always check on what people are reading on Under the Castor Oil Tree. I noticed today that several people had read a post from 2010. So I read it. And almost wept. Dogs make me weepy. And Luke, the dog, truly did.
Thought I'd share it with you again.
Luke Plunski--Luke the dog--died today.
He was Michael's dog first...saved Mike's life once and made Mike's life so much finer, brighter, happier. Then, after Michael died Luke became JoAnn's dog, saved her life in a different way, making it possible to move on after her son's death.
I'll never forget how someone with great good sense allowed Luke to be in Michael's hospital room during his last illness--even in Intensive Care. Mike had lost both his legs to his disease and Luke was his legs for him. Mike didn't take up the whole bed, so Luke would lay where Mike's legs should have been had the world been kinder. Sometimes a medical person would come in and be horrified to see a dog in a hospital bed. Luke would just look at them with those endlessly deep brown eyes and most of the time, the person would just melt.
Luke made you melt. He was a Golden Retriever and a beauty of one. How could you resist that look that said--"I'm laying here where I belong, next to my human...."
Luke became a therapy dog after Michael died and brought joy to hundreds and hundreds of people in hospitals and nursing homes. He was never assertive, always patient, always waiting for the human to make the first advance. And as gentle as a spring breeze, as sweet as the smell of honeysuckle, as healing as magic chicken soup.
He always came up to communion with Jo, mostly because he knew his job was to be near her always and he did his job to perfection. And one day, his great head leaning against the altar rail, I simply gave him communion--just a wafer like everyone else. After that, he was my great, good friend. If I'd forget and someone else gave out the bread on that side of the altar rail, I'd glace over and he'd be looking at me with those eyes that made me melt and I'd feel like I'd been rude to the Christ Child...which isn't far from true. Luke was about as Christ-like as any creature I've known.
I suppose some people might have objected to my giving him communion--but I never asked and, most likely, wouldn't have cared. It was only right and proper and in good order.
When Jo and Luke got into the library on Sunday mornings for the adult forum--they were there almost every week for years--he'd want to come greet me. Jo would give him his short little leash which he would carry in his mouth and he'd come to say hello. (He'd also take the chance to roll on the Library rug, but who can blame him for that?) It was one of the highlights of every Sunday, that little lick and rubbing against me.
My grandmother divided the world into two distinct groups "church people" and people who, well, were not 'church people'. I tend to divide the world into 'dog people' and everyone else. Loving a dog is like holding your heart in your hand and feeling it beat for a while. You all know the "DOG"/"GOD" stuff...well, I'm not sure it isn't true.
Lord I will miss him....
Jo held him as he died. I've held dogs as they've died and there is very little more profound and humbling than that. The pain of a dog's death is sharper and cleaner than even the deaths of people you love. I don't know anyone who, when someone they love dies, doesn't have some unfinished business or some guilt or some unanswered questions...mixed up stuff. With a dog, it's just pain. You know they never blamed you for anything, were never disappointed in you, never thought you should change your ways....they simply, purely loved you. Just like you are. Just like that. That's a Dog/God thing--there is no other creature besides a dog who can find that Agape Love, that redemptive Love, that Love that knows no bounds, that love that mimics God's love for each of us.
I weep for Luke tonight...but more for Jo. I know the pain she feels. I've been blessed and privileged and made a better person by the love of dogs....
Thought I'd share it with you again.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Luke
He was Michael's dog first...saved Mike's life once and made Mike's life so much finer, brighter, happier. Then, after Michael died Luke became JoAnn's dog, saved her life in a different way, making it possible to move on after her son's death.
I'll never forget how someone with great good sense allowed Luke to be in Michael's hospital room during his last illness--even in Intensive Care. Mike had lost both his legs to his disease and Luke was his legs for him. Mike didn't take up the whole bed, so Luke would lay where Mike's legs should have been had the world been kinder. Sometimes a medical person would come in and be horrified to see a dog in a hospital bed. Luke would just look at them with those endlessly deep brown eyes and most of the time, the person would just melt.
Luke made you melt. He was a Golden Retriever and a beauty of one. How could you resist that look that said--"I'm laying here where I belong, next to my human...."
Luke became a therapy dog after Michael died and brought joy to hundreds and hundreds of people in hospitals and nursing homes. He was never assertive, always patient, always waiting for the human to make the first advance. And as gentle as a spring breeze, as sweet as the smell of honeysuckle, as healing as magic chicken soup.
He always came up to communion with Jo, mostly because he knew his job was to be near her always and he did his job to perfection. And one day, his great head leaning against the altar rail, I simply gave him communion--just a wafer like everyone else. After that, he was my great, good friend. If I'd forget and someone else gave out the bread on that side of the altar rail, I'd glace over and he'd be looking at me with those eyes that made me melt and I'd feel like I'd been rude to the Christ Child...which isn't far from true. Luke was about as Christ-like as any creature I've known.
I suppose some people might have objected to my giving him communion--but I never asked and, most likely, wouldn't have cared. It was only right and proper and in good order.
When Jo and Luke got into the library on Sunday mornings for the adult forum--they were there almost every week for years--he'd want to come greet me. Jo would give him his short little leash which he would carry in his mouth and he'd come to say hello. (He'd also take the chance to roll on the Library rug, but who can blame him for that?) It was one of the highlights of every Sunday, that little lick and rubbing against me.
My grandmother divided the world into two distinct groups "church people" and people who, well, were not 'church people'. I tend to divide the world into 'dog people' and everyone else. Loving a dog is like holding your heart in your hand and feeling it beat for a while. You all know the "DOG"/"GOD" stuff...well, I'm not sure it isn't true.
Lord I will miss him....
Jo held him as he died. I've held dogs as they've died and there is very little more profound and humbling than that. The pain of a dog's death is sharper and cleaner than even the deaths of people you love. I don't know anyone who, when someone they love dies, doesn't have some unfinished business or some guilt or some unanswered questions...mixed up stuff. With a dog, it's just pain. You know they never blamed you for anything, were never disappointed in you, never thought you should change your ways....they simply, purely loved you. Just like you are. Just like that. That's a Dog/God thing--there is no other creature besides a dog who can find that Agape Love, that redemptive Love, that Love that knows no bounds, that love that mimics God's love for each of us.
I weep for Luke tonight...but more for Jo. I know the pain she feels. I've been blessed and privileged and made a better person by the love of dogs....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)