Election Day, August 2014

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Over the course of the past 2 months, I have fielded dozens of calls and messages from associates and old friends offering me support for my election campaign.  Of course, I’m not running for anything, despite the name on the ballot. I’ll repeat, I am NOT running for Brevard County Commissioner in District 4.

I did quite a double-take the first time I drove by one of “my” roadsigns.  I’ve waved to him numerous times as he stands at the intersections holding “my” signs in an attempt to garner support.   Sometimes I even honk enthusiastically, even though the likelihood of success in a field of seven is anyone’s guess.  I just hope we don’t get embarrassed, with like 3 votes.  And in the long-shot that I do win, I surely hope I’m not a crook!  Heck, I can make myself look bad all by myself!  I don’t need some other guy making it worse.  He probably thinks the same thing as he sees the lines of people waiting to see me on Saturdays.  “Crap, I sure hope that vet knows what he’s doing!”

I realize this is all quite silly, and my wife Sharon thinks I’m nuts. “Just last night, she said, “Babe, you do realize you’re not running, right?”

So what’s in a name, anyway?  What if your reputation really did depend on someone else?  I imagine Daddy looking down at me, with his brow furrowed much of the time, wondering just what the hell I think I’m doing.  He shook his head in bewilderment, and thought we were so different when he was alive.  Mostly, I hope he’s smiling because lots of my good stuff come from him, I think now he’s OK with those things we were so different on.  I hope he’s happy with how I’ve carried his father’s name, with the reputation, the image our family name is remembered with.

And of course, I was Mom’s baby boy, and so I could do no wrong in her eyes.  Now that she has her Beatific Vision” of Heaven, she sees right through me!  I’m embarrassed at the times I look back and did the wrong things.  I was so relieved that she didn’t know; I didn’t want to disappoint her!  Now she’s laughing out loud – of course she knew all along.  Somehow she pointed me in the right direction, guiding me to get back up and learn from my mistakes, without even letting on that she knew everything I was up to.

Good parenting requires knowing your children. An insightful father knows his children long before they know themselves.

And I’m quite sure my son Cullen also watches us.  You know that feeling you get when you’re “alone,” but you just feel someone watching you? I get that all the time.  Sometimes I lose my cool or get short with someone, or say something out of frustration,  and I swear I can hear him laughing at me, saying, “That’s my dad!”  But other times, when I find myself correcting someone’s close-mindedness or bigotry, I get really warm all over, and I smile.  I realize that I’m not the same man I was, and I hope he’s proud of me, because so much of what’s better in me is because of him.

I also think of my Heavenly Father looking down on us.  One of my contemplations involves the Trinity looking down at our globe, and discussing how things have turned out.  Are they pleased with us?  I’m unable to judge others through Their eyes, so I’m just talking about myself, and mine.  If I call myself a Christian, I’m representing Him in everything I say, and do.  Of course I don’t hold myself to this standard of perfection, but others may hold me accountable.

As a visible Christian, I am the only Christ some people will ever see.  In that context I carry a huge responsibility.  Of course I’m just a human with all human weaknesses and failings, but to many that I encounter, I represent Church, and all things Christ.

Regardless of whether or not Gandhi actually said the words, lots of people claim he said, “I don’t reject Christ. I love Christ. It’s just that so many of you Christians are so unlike Christ.”

I can only imagine Jesus looking down at us, shaking his head in frustration, at one time or another, in frustration.  Just like my parents.

So again, what’s in a name, anyway?  What if your reputation really did depend on someone else?

Which reminds me of a prayer led by a Jesuit mentor:

Most of all, Lord, Let nothing that I shall ever do, serve to keep any of my brothers from finding you.

Much Love.

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What I learned about my father from a Jewish Girl

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I look back at college days at Mizzou and think I was a pretty typical frat boy.  But I was never really that typical.  Once, when everybody else was trying to get the hookup talking about classes and what they do for fun, I distinctly remember talking to Diane Bau about theology.  I suppose it’s not a surprise to any of you that this was never an area I considered taboo, even with a Jewish girl.

So we were about four beers into our TGIF mixer, and I vividly recall her astonished look when she repeated what I had just revealed to her.  “Seriously? You think you should be good because you don’t want to go to hell?  That’s why you try to avoid sin?”  I thought it was a good thing.  And admirable.  And I was apparently proud that I was considered myself “religious.”  And considered myself pretty righteous, in the midst of all these jerks that just wanted to get laid.  I was better than that.  Haha, right.  I puffed my chest out and was a hypocritical Pharisee.  I’ll leave that alone for now, because at 19, of course I wanted that also.

Anyway, she was simply incredulous, and genuinely fascinated that this was a Christian’s philosophy.  I asked her why that was so surprising.  I was proud that I believed in God and hell, and therefore wanted to do what was right.  She looked at me with deep, dark olive eyes and said, “So the reason you try to be good is because of fear?  Why not be good out of lovebecause God is your Father and He loves you, and that’s why you love Him?”  I don’t remember whether I was surprised, or embarrassed, or oblivious, but I do remember that conversation like it was yesterday.

So here’s the funny part of the story.  I dated Diane Bau for weeks before I learned that she had an identical twin (and I do mean identical!).  I did think she was pretty moody sometimes, and really, really acted differently on some dates, but I pretty much wrote that off because she was just drop-dead gorgeous in an exotic, ethnic kind-of way.  Anyway, about the time I really started digging her (them), she (they) informed me that she (they) was kind-of into me also, so she (they) really should stop going out because I wasn’t a Jewish guy.  I was kind-of (really) insulted.  This was my first experience of being discriminated against because of my professed religion.

But here’s the deal.. The girl was right.  I was catechized by a Jewish Girl.  Truly this is the essence of our relationship with our heavenly Father.  And since today is Father’s Day, it does seem like a pretty cool day to remember this story.

This is also “Trinity” Sunday, and I imagine the three of them looking down at Earth, and the Father saying with such disappointment, “They still don’t get it.  They simply don’t understand how much we love them.  He looked over at His Son and motioned down to us and said,  “One more time.  This time let’s not just tell them about our how we want them to live, lets show them how to live, how to love.  Let’s show them what love is.  Our Father motioned over to Jesus and explained, “You go down and love them.  Show them how much I love them, what love is.”

Diane was right.  It never would have worked out.  Her “father” would not have approved of me.  Although I was surrounded by it all of my life, I realized it, what love “is” much later in life.  I never really knew my father when I was growing up.  Either of them.  I do now.  And how much he loved me, they both love me, in ways I only now can understand.

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MLK Day, Irony at Half Mast

halfmastI’ve always flown a flag over my home and my animal hospitals because I enjoy proudly expressing my patriotism and love of the freedom we have in this country.  I’ve been fortunate to travel many places where the freedoms weren’t quite so evident.  Guns have literally been inches from my family’s faces in Northern Ireland, Mexico City, and most recently China.  I often add a second flag beneath the Stars & Stripes to commemorate an occasion.  The Black & Gold of my beloved Missouri Tigers on game Saturdays, Miami Dolphin Aqua & Orange on game Sundays, and the Irish Tricolor on St. Paddy’s and Bloody Monday.  Less frequently you’ll see her flying at half mast to memorialize fallen heroes or tragedies.

Over the years, many clients and neighbors have commented on my lowering Old Glory the third week of January.  Most are pleasant surprises of my honoring Martin Luther King, and numerous black clients expressed their appreciation.  One elderly woman did so just today.

Jean Murray Klein was born in Southeast Missouri on October 4th, 1921 to a family involved in farming for generations.  He graduated from Mizzou, came home from WWII a decorated war hero, married my mom, and overcame the demons of alcoholism and cigarettes.  He always enjoyed game day in the man-cave with his best friends Lee Bowman, and Dick Tongate, and he treasured that football I had Dan Marino sign at our children’s shared pre-school.  But Daddy was a product of his environment and Jim Crow culture.  Let’s just say he didn’t have the tolerant world view his children have adopted.  I don’t think he even knew any black people, or if so he never spoke of them.  Mom had a “colored woman” (Dad’s words) help her around the house while I was young, and I became very close to Beulah.  My earliest childhood memories include her ironing while I was “rockin” next to her on my spring suspended horse, while “Charlie Brown,” by the Coasters played on the radio.  The old man really did the best he could – I later found out that every holiday he would bring her family a turkey or a ham.

Anyway, Dad certainly didn’t have any problem cheering for the black athletes who led the St. Louis Cardinals and the Missouri Tigers to success, but that was pretty much the extent of his comfort zone.  I belly-laugh when I remember my sister Maureen showing him a picture of her with a huge black man, whom she told him she had been dating.  It was actually a picture of  a football player she had taken for him, but the narrative changed, “Because it would be really funny.”  Daddy almost had a heart attack, then forced a laugh about it, pretending he had known all along that it was a joke.

Cancer took my daddy 7 years after he had laid down the non-filtered Camels, on January 16, 1998.

So you see the obvious irony.  Daddy was buried the third week of January, which “co-incidentally” turns out to be Martin Luther King day.

Yes ma’am, I do fly our flag today in memory of one of this country’s finest men, I’m as proud of him as you are.

Dear God, Thank You for this Family

Father’s Day, 2013

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My girls here with me.  We took up an entire row at Mass – the only thing I asked for today.

So much love and support from Sharon, Kayla, Noah, Camille and Emily.  What have I done to deserve this?  I am humbled by my gifts in this life.  I miss my son so much it hurts, but I would be selfish to ask for him back.

I have this warm faith inside that Daddy is with Cullen today, together with Mom; all in our Lord’s embrace, sending out love.  Actually makes me smile.

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I prayed for three things today.

Thanksgiving for all I have.  My family is the personification of Your love, supporting each other every moment.

That my God cradle and hug him, and let him know how much we love him.

For healing, faith, and consolation for my wonderful family.

We are sad for us, but so very hopeful in our faith and love that our God has him in His loving embrace.  This father’s day is so different than last year.

Perhaps it’s the Camino.  Perhaps it’s just time.  Perhaps it’s the Holy Spirit.

Thank you dear Lord for the confidence that my dear son is ok.  And that you allowed me to know him for 19 years. And that you inspired him to do so much good.  Much Love.

Happy Father’s Day 2013

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