August 26, 2016


The patron saint of impossible causes can never be stopped!  That would be improbable impossible!

From the Jennifer Fulwiler Show...

Was listening to radio show host Jennifer Fulwiler with guest William McKenna,  a doctoral resident in clinical psychology, family counselor, Catholic, etc...

Fulwiler says she's been muting people on social media fearing she will waste all her time on election arguments, which tend to be very unproductive. 

Partial transcript:  
Jen: It's so easy to make some snippy comment in response to something I don't agree with.  How do you not? 
McK:  Conversations, in my view, are fundamentally about education, not about winning.  I'm not there to win the argument, I'm there to understand, "why do you say that? help me understand?" .... We build empathy by listening.  It's not my job to change people, that's God's territory. My job is just to walk with you through in this journey we call life.
Jen:  It's tempting to think "I have to win, I have to show him that he's wrong" but that doesn't seem to get us very far does it?
McK: No it doesn't, look at it this way, when I work with marital couples it's the exact same thing only in a more intense way. The research shows us that in terms of marital conflict about 69% of marital conflict is a 'perpetual problem'.  Meaning it's not going to get solved. Meaning if I take a couple at the age of 30, they will be arguing about the exact same things when they are both 80.  The question isn't are we going to change here, but are we going to soften towards each other.  Instead of getting mad at your spouse when he does x or y, you kind of shrug it off and say, oh that's just Joe or that's just Jane and that's just what they do and I love them in spite of it. 
McK:  I have friends all over the spectrum. I have friends who are committed Communists and one who is a committed monarchist.  And the thing is I don't care about their beliefs, I care if, you know, they make me a better person and I always try to see the good in them.  Focus on their strengths and on common ground.  Politics is a dead end as far as arguing with family members. It's never worked and never will.

August 24, 2016

Images of a Trip

It's like a wake-up from a dream to a dream whenever I get up and open the slatted blinds - like theatrical curtains - to reveal the mood-altering vista of swaying palms and rolling sea.

It's Hilton Head time again and we made the drive in what must be the record time, time made enjoyable in part by the inestimably great Brian Lamb interviewing the inestimably great historian James Robertson, biographer of the inestimably great Gen'l Stonewall Jackson. That's just as good as C-Span gets.

Just now, via the magic of modern technology, I belatedly watched the wunderkind-swimmer Ledecke swim by herself for over half her 800 meter race, looking for all the world like Secretariat at the Belmont. Racing against herself without competition against the best of the world. Incredible.

I then check the WaPo and read an inspiring article about a woman with warts all over her body due to a long-term illness and her body. She learned to love herself despite it, with help of brain injury!

First “fun activity” of the afternoon was a needed run, a purgative thirty minutes on the beach followed by a heady half-hour bike along the dappled Hilton paths. Lushness personified, the trees are covered in vines and look like tall green papier-mâché men. As I age I notice I appreciate dappled light more, such as was found on the ride.

Day 2:

Another interstellarly awesome weather day, though hot as pancakes. “Feels like 99 degrees” offers the weather website. Gust sea air, gust like the wind!

I drop in on the beach at high noon and spend an hour while jazz plays.  A wide expanse of beach courtesy high tide. Slight sheen of sweat combined with wind provides relief.  Life in a Corona commercial.

Day 3:

Another bright shining morning as if fresh from a heavenly assembly line. Resolutely sunny and warm, 82 degrees at 7:45.

I leisured breakfast - phoned it in - by just making cereal and eating some cheese danish. My that danish was good. Who said the Danes have given us nothing by violent Vikings?

Read indoors and out, erring slightly with too much political news. Lunch back at the condo and then more reading – historical fiction written from the perspective of Thomas Jefferson's daughter. I'm learning more about Jefferson, how deep his depression after his wife Martha died after ten years of marriage. And of his temper.

I certainly had no idea Jefferson was so emotional. Jefferson, Adams, and Washington all had tempers and emotional storms.

"O whale! the mad fiend himself is after ye! blow your trump—blister your lungs!“  –Moby Dick
Yes, blow that Trump!

And in the novel, Melville mentions how they were desperately seeking the whale:
"Ah! how they still strove through that infinite blue-ness to seek out the thing that might destroy them!”
Melting Scripture today:
Consider how Christ endured such opposition from sinners, in order that you may not grow weary and lose heart.
And I thought of how that must be our attitude towards ourselves, that though we endure such opposition from ourselves and our sins, Christ endured ours so so must we.

The psalm at Mass was 23: “there is nothing I shall want”. I generally read this as a promise of God not leaving us in lack, but I could turn it around and say there is “nothing I shall crave” in lieu of Him.


Looking at the home IP camera I see the dogs looking out the window and think, surely falsely, that they are waiting for us. And that makes me miss them.

Good day was had by all - lunch at 2pm (frozen pizza and ham) and jambalaya at 7.

How scientifically illiterate be my wife and me? Enough to wonder why the moon causes ocean tides. Doesn't seem like that should be in the lunar job description. But then I always liked math and English and not science.

Steph at Walmart now picking up an open-sided tent. Wants to pitch one on beach for shade purposes. Makes sense given that it is blistering hot down here this time.

Day 4:

The water is the warmest I've ever seen it - bath water warm. It can't even cool your core temp because it's at your core temp.

Timing wise this has been sweet: rainy and cloudy in Cloudumbus while sunny and mild here. Plus I admit to not being crestfallen that Saturday, had we'd been home, we'd be helping someone move. God never gives more than we can handle.

I retrieved a portable speaker and put on some jazz as alternative programming to “cell phone lady”, the woman we so named who bitches loudly about work and people at work on her cell at the beach. Obviously we pitched our tent in a bad neighborhood.

I'd like to go on a historic tour of nearby Beauford but Steph seems rather satisfied just crashing here and why not?

Last night gave us time to walk a moon-and-starlit beach. It was a scene of otherworldly wonder: the full moon shining on the water, the clouds lit up all over the huge sky. Very dramatic, and lends a sense of the smallness and insignificance of man, including Trump & Shrillary. A good antidote for self-seriousness.

Today is the anniversary of Black Elk's death, a Lakota medicine man and warrior who survived Wounded Knee. From a meditation:
"In 1892 Black Elk married a Christian woman, and their three children were baptized. In 1904, after his wife’s death, Black Elk himself became a Catholic, taking the name Nicholas. Eventually he became a catechist and traveled widely, spreading the Catholic faith."
He was also devoted to "the rosary, Mass, and offered powerful preaching on scriptural passages”.

A former commissioner of Indian Affairs said that Black Elk had something within him, religious strength, that the world has lost and “must have again, lest it die.”


We lazily let the day slip from the bonds of the azure sky, letting 10am morph into 4pm with only a half-hour walk in between. As Herr Trump would say, a low energy day.

Day 5
"What a lovely day again! were it a new-made world, and made for a summer-house to the angels, and this morning the first of its throwing open to them, a fairer day could not dawn upon that world." –Moby Dick
Today did a thirty minute run followed by almost hour walk. 5.3 miles covered in da blazing heat. Yesterday went in the water for a very brief respite and received a jellyfish bite on my foot.

At night we we picked up some Mexican food at Fiesta Fresh (picture of St. John Paul II in their shop!) and enjoyed a late dinner at home.

Day 6

Cloudy finale down here; chance of thunderstorms later. Well we've had a great run of great days. Superabundant sun with no rain from Sunday through Thursday - five consecutive days.

Lazy morning after Mass - three hours of reading tweets and eating breakfast, drinking coffee. 12:42pm and it feels like the day just started.

(Later) Well surprisingly (not!) the weatherman was wrong - sun galore. And I relished the long traditional ride to Grant market and beyond. Just 13 mile ride - I could've done a lot more - but the last day of beach was calling and I had the capital idea (if sorely belated) of just walking farther in order to get to a private beach front.

I rode under the pine trees and past the golf course. Listened to country music and Dan Fogelberg. Bought peaches and a tomato at the ma pa shop. I admired the sheer lushness of landscape.

From Fogelberg, love these last two lines:
   "Born in the valley
    And raised in the trees
    Of Western Kentucky
    On wobbly knees
    With mama beside you
    To help you along
    You'll soon be a-growin' up strong
    Oh, the long lazy mornings
    In pastures of green
    The sun on your withers
    The wind in your mane"

EPILOGUE: I'm regretting my sunburn but it was almost totally unavoidable given how I put enough sun protectant on to cover ten samurai warriors for a month in Rio.

August 11, 2016

Coptic Monk

Desert monk used to be atheist professor.   (An Into Great Silence sort of short film.)

August 10, 2016

A Long, Long Time Ago...

In early July of 1997 I read a NY Times article about book lovers titled When a Love of Books Means a Life in Stacks. It featured NYC authors who have huge libraries and pictured Ann Douglas (who wrote a book about Manhattan in the '20s), as well as Edward Robb Ellis, who boasted of five sets of Britannica Encyclopedias among us 10,000 volumes.  Why you'd need that even in the pre-Google days defies explanation.

I cut the page out and framed it, and it's yellowed over the nearly two decades but still represents a treasured book room item if only out of nostalgia.

I took another look at it tonight and decided to google this Edward Robb Ellis character, a man with three names. And coincidentally I find I own one of his books (A Diary of the Century). So I own books of both of the authors prominently featured in the piece.

Ellis has the distinction of having kept a diary for a record 70 years with some 22 million words. He's got me beat, with my 18 years and 3 to 4 million words. Steven Riddle surely has has double want I've done in terms of years and words.

The Arms of Krupp / Trump

August 09, 2016

Pop Culture's Fascinating with Survivor Shows

I suspect the success of survivor type shows, which proliferate now, is subconscious testimony to people recognizing that a culture that encourages weakness and victimhood over self-reliance and Stoicism is not a good foundation not only for society in general (witness the financial bankruptcy path we're on) but even for our own individual happiness and well-being. I'm reading The Porch and the Cross: Ancient Stoic Wisdom for Modern Christian Living by Kevin Vost (his book on Dominicans was recommended to us at Mass).  The “offer it up” mentality that the Church used to emphasize with regard to suffering and discomfort seems like that's the only viable way of life in this vale of tears, especially as we enter the valley of the shadow of death in our old age - that fearsome time when most everything gets stripped from us. (The survivor show Naked and Afraid is a literal stripping; Alone is a stripping of all friends and society.)

The ancient Stoics were able to withstand (cheerily!) the most heinous imprisonments and tortures, and it must be incredibly comforting to know you can handle whatever life throws at you.

It certainly feels like God's trying to tell me something given that my at the same time I'm reading Hillbilly Elegy, a memoir of a guy who escaped the grinding poverty and feelings of helplessness that paralyze Appalachia. He writes of his time in the Marines:
The trials of my youth instilled a debilitating self-doubt. Instead of congratulating myself on having overcome some obstacles, I worried that I’d be overcome by the next ones. Marine Corps boot camp, with its barrage of challenges big and small, began to teach me I had underestimated myself…I’m not saying ability doesn’t matter. It certainly helps. But there’s something powerful about realizing that you’ve undersold yourself—that somehow your mind confused lack of effort for inability. This is why, whenever people ask me what I’d most like to change about the white working class, I say, “The feeling that our choices don’t matter.” The Marine Corps excised that feeling like a surgeon does a tumor.
Also reading the Russell Kirk bio and he was a great devotee of the ancient Stoic philosophers. Christianity is Stoicism that can "touch the heart" and not just the mind, I've heard it said.

August 01, 2016

WFB on Trump

As if from the grave, William F. Buckley speaks of Trump, written 16 yrs ago:
Look for the narcissist. The most obvious target in today’s lineup is, of course, Donald Trump. When he looks at a glass, he is mesmerized by its reflection. If Donald Trump were shaped a little differently, he would compete for Miss America. But whatever the depths of self-enchantment, the demagogue has to say something. So what does Trump say? That he is a successful businessman and that that is what America needs in the Oval Office. There is some plausibility in this, though not much. The greatest deeds of American Presidents — midwifing the new republic; freeing the slaves; harnessing the energies and vision needed to win the Cold War — had little to do with a bottom line.
In the final analysis, just as the king might look down with terminal disdain upon a courtier whose hypocrisy repelled him, so we have no substitute for relying on the voter to exercise a quiet veto when it becomes more necessary to discourage cynical demagogy, than to advance free health for the kids. That can come later, in another venue; the resistance to a corrupting demagogy should take first priority.
So what else can Trump offer us? Well to begin with, a self-financed campaign. Does it follow that all who finance their own campaigns are narcissists? At this writing Steve Forbes has spent $63 million in pursuit of the Republican nomination. Forbes is an evangelist, not an exhibitionist. In his long and sober private career, Steve Forbes never bought a casino, and if he had done so, he would not have called it Forbes’s Funhouse. His motivations are discernibly selfless…