On the walk into work listened to blogger Msgr. Pope being interviewed by another blogger. Pope said that he is amazed at how many Catholics expect more from a Tylenol tablet than they do the Eucharist. He says his parish is convinced, at every Mass, that the Holy Spirit is going to do something that day. Nice corrective lens.
I was reading some ancient Irish poetry recently and came across a few lines that reminded me of the Mick, particularly the picture that graced the 1961 Mickey Mantle Topps card gifted to us by my best friend's uncle:
No wonder though their strength be great:
Sons of queens and kings are one and all;
On their heads are
Beautiful golden-yellow manes.
With smooth comely bodies,
With bright blue-starred eyes,
With pure crystal teeth,
With thin red lips.
Good they are at man-slaying,
Melodious in the ale-house,
Masterly at making songs,
Skilled at playing fidchell.
Le' sun has re-arrived and bright buoys my hopes with each refreshing draught from the lake of beer, even while time tick-tocks with a stubborn, if admirable, steadfastness. I dream of those days at Hilton Head, biking in the Hildegarden sun, baking in the heedless sun, rushing to the onrushes of those ocean surges. Freedom breathes so lithely in those climes, the sun proof against all enemies foreign and domestic. And yet even Hawaiians are not free from reality, as stated baldly in the latest George Clooney movie.
I tend to be disdainful of New Year's resolutions for the fact that they are so often so quickly flouted. People work outt in January and early February, making the gym too crowded, and then quit by March. But self-improvement is not to be mocked, nor are the Lenten projects that many bloggers engage in. Whatever the lack of longterm effects, it seems like a good thing that so many give up something or do something extra. It seems like no prayer or good work or fast (the latter two being prayer in a different guise) are wasted.
Morning at the zoo. Not bad at all. The weather held out; no real rain until after we got home around 4, and I enjoyed the "artworks of God", from the 15,000 lb elephant "Hank the Tank" to the sleeping lions to the pacing tigers. Saw a python, astonishingly large, and a small colony of the world's largest bats. They were mesmerizing, hanging there sometimes with just one claw, some with their gigantic, veined wings extended, others creating their own micro-environment by closing their wings around themselves. Self-shelter. A baby elephant humorously hosed himself off via spouting water from his trunk, and later made a trumpet call when comically going after the Canadian geese who took residence in the elephant domain. The bears always startle simply for their size. (A Grizzly slept on a log, which didn't seem too comfortable but then I'm no Grizzly.) The ever active wolverine was entertaining, and I could've watched the otter swim for quite some time. The Mexican wolf and Timber wolf also made an impression. I think grandson Sam, 2 years old, had a good time - he seemed to know where we were going before we got there. He rode in the wagon for a short while before he walked to walk freely, and walk freely he did, constantly on the verge of walking off.
Reading from Wisdom chapter 2 today seems Christ writ large. Even the New American Bible notes - written by near-heathens apparently deathly afraid of being seen as "homers" - say it was "seen as prophetic of Christ". (Of course they're not willing to confess to seeing it as such.) Regardless, I feel sad for my Protestant brothers and sisters not to believe such Scripture as Wisdom is inspired, since they've lost one of my favorite books of the Old Testament. Speaking of Old Testament books, Scott Hahn has a new one out about First and Second Chronicles. Now there's a brave author and publisher!
* - or it could be the beer.